So… here it is. Kendall and Logan, mostly, no slash. Angst. Like, seriously, MAJOR angst. Enjoy.
It is indefinite how it happened. Nobody knew whether he was just hit, or if he walked out in the road, not paying attention, or if he tried to get hit. On purpose.
Kendall really hopes that the last option isn't true. Of course, he doesn't want to think of the first two as reality, either, but if he absolutely had to choose, then it would have been one of those, for sure.
The hospital waiting room is the stupidest thing he's ever seen. They're in the children's wing, and there's colorful pictures on the walls, images of kids and animals playing, running around, smiling, and having the best fucking time of their lives. The toys in the corner are bright and shining, the plastic clean and inviting. Carlos is looking over at it, kind of jittery, as if he wants to go sit down and play with them, but he knows this isn't a very good time for that.
It's so idiotic, how this room is so warm and comfortable, because it's all fake. They're giving these little kids false hope and kindness, when they're too young to really even comprehend what's happening to them.
He looks to his left, and sees James, head bowed, face covered by his hands. Kendall exhales slowly, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder. James snaps up, almost like someone electrocuted him, and there's red rimming his hazel eyes, which are shining with unshed tears. He's as pale as a ghost, lower lip trembling, and Kendall clamps his jaw shut painfully at what he sees.
James never cries.
Kendall turns his head to see a little boy walk through the door, looking frightened to death, eyes wide. He's clinging to his mother's hand, looking around, nervousy clouding his childish features. Kendall watches as James catches the kid's view and grins reassuringly, and the kid falters a little, giving a toothy smile that shows he's missing his two front teeth.
Then, there's another blur of movement as Carlos stands up. Kendall doesn't have time to ask where he's going before the Latino is over at the mother's side. She looks frantic, scared, but at the same time tired and worn, maybe just by the very atmosphere of the hospital. Carlos says something, so quietly that Kendall can't hear what he's saying. He glances over at James, who shrugs in return. Kendall's heart aches painfully when he doesn't see Logan, like he always does.
But, of course, if Logan were next to him, they would have no reason to be at this damn hospital in the first place.
And then, when he looks back at Carlos, the mother of the boy is hugging him profusely, and her lips move continually to form the words thank you, over and over again.
And Carlos is bending down to the boy's eve level, smiling kindly and saying something before taking his hand and leading him over to the basket of toys.
Kendall grins tearfully as he watches Carlos put a hand puppet over his palm, making it bite the child's nose.
Carlos had always been good with little kids. Kendall, James, and… he swallows painfully, Logan, figured that it was because he could relate to them better than he could to kids his own age sometimes. And, the fact that he had that youth about him, the childish aura that set him apart from other people. Carlos always made it seem like it was okay to blow bubbles in your chocolate milk, or revel in the feeling of wind on your face as you go down a slide. He was special.
About fifteen minutes later (fifteen minutes of comforting James –and himself-, fifteen minutes of worrying, fifteen minutes of fearing the worst, the absolute worst fifteen minutes of his entire life), a doctor comes out, a tall African-American man clothed in a light blue button-down shirt and khakis, over that the stereotypical white coat and a clipboard in his hand. At the sight of him, Carlos shrinks back a little, but extends his fist for his new friend to pound. The boy smiles, and instead throws his arms around Carlos' neck. The Latino startles for a moment, but then returns the hug, before, very gently, pushing him away.
Kendall and James stood up slowly, as if the world were teetering on the head of a pin, and the slightest movement would cause them to come crashing down. Carlos walked over to join them, shaking just slightly as he took his normal position, next to James.
"Is-Is he okay?" James asks softly, eyes wide with fear and anticipation, obviously pleading this man to tell him that, yes, Logan was, in fact, just perfect, and that he was ready to come home.
But instead, he shakes his head slowly, as if he's trying to figure out how to break this news to three teenage boys, who seem too young to have to face the truth, who have probably known Logan Mitchell since birth, or at least shortly thereafter.
"Your friend has suffered a lot… three broken ribs, skull fracture, severely broken leg. He's-He's still in a coma, and he… can't breathe, not on his own."
Carlos voice comes very quietly, cracking several times throughout the short sentence.
"Is-Is he going to be all right?"
"Honestly, boys, I really don't think he's going to make it through the night. I'm so sorry. I'll arrange for your mothers-"
"Can we see him?" The words spill out of Kendall's lips, so quickly, yet surely, and it hasn't really sunk in, what the doctor just said. "Please?"
The older man sighs, shakes his head again. "I'm sorry, boys. As long as he's in intensive care, I can only allow immediate family-"
"He's been our best friend for over a decade! We need to see him! He's, like, our-our brother!" Kendall's voice breaks on the last word, and he realizes that he's really begging now, really pushing past the limits that he knows are reasonable, but this is Logan, Logan, and if he's not with him in the next four seconds, then he's going to have a freaking breakdown, right there in the middle of the waiting room.
"Like I said, I can't let you back into the ICU. It's strictly-"
"I don't fucking care! He's my best friend!"
And then Kendall is off, running through the double doors, and he really has no idea what he's doing, but his legs move of their own accord as they take him up the familiar staircase, and down the hallway. He's been in the ICU before, sure. So have his friends. But that was always from some hockey injury, or the results of some crazy stunt that they pulled without really considering the possible outcome. It had never been like this, never had some doctor come right out and say that Logan was going to- die.
He was hit by a car. That's it. That's all Kendall remembers. He just saw Logan beginning to cross the street, and then there was squealing brakes, but nothing else. Logan hadn't screamed. There was just the thud as he fell to the ground, bruised and bleeding, crumpled into a heap. And then the shouts of James and Carlos as they raced out to the middle of the road, trusting that the oncoming traffic had stopped.
But Kendall himself hadn't been able to move. He was frozen to where he stood, unable to even cry out. He just was- stuck, paralyzed. The reality of what happened hadn't really hit until he heard the sirens of the ambulance, but, even then, the EMS crew didn't allow them in the back with Logan; they didn't see him. Well, Kendall hadn't.
He walks quickly down the hall, looking in the rooms for any clue of his best friend. He knows that this is crazy, irresponsible, just flat out stupid, but Logan was worth it. He always had been. Always would be.
Finally, he slows to a stop in front of room 318, taking a second look inside the door before entering.
It's Logan, all right. His hair is, oddly enough, the first thing Kendall notices. Because, usually, Logan takes such good care of his hair. He's always gelling the bangs up just so, taking care that they don't fall across his forehead. Of course, when they did, he still managed to look sophisticated and smart, like always, but now it's all tangled and flat, and there's a few dark brown strands that are actually long enough to get caught slightly in the tube under his nose.
There's blood on his face and under his fingernails, and it's really, really, surreal, just not in a good way. Because, from the time he was five years old, Logan was always so calm whenever blood was involved. If Kendall, James, or Carlos got a scratch from some squirrel they were trying to tame, or a scrape from trying to jump Mrs. McCowsky's fence, Logan was always right there with a band aid and some disinfectant. Kendall remembers the time he found an entire stash of medical supplies in Logan's closet, and not just simple stuff like bandages. It was like he was looking at the secret storage area of the Red Cross.
The artificial breathing. That is definitely the worst part. It's just a constant gasping sound, and it sounds too frantic, too rushed, for it to be helping Logan. Logan's always so calm under huge situations –yet panicked in the little ones- and he… he just doesn't breathe like that. It's too… too… artificial. Not him at all.
Kendall barely gets the chance to walk over, to take Logan's bruised hand in his and there's blood under his fingernails, making Kendall suddenly get the urge to do something really, really drastic… although he isn't sure what.
Kendall rubs gently, slow, smooth circles into Logan's skin with his thumb, whispers encouragement, even though he's fairly sure that he can't hear anything.
"I-I love you," he says softly, and with a pang, he realizes that the words are true. But it's nothing more than he feels for Katie, for example, simply the desire to protect, to spend time with, to be there for.
And then, the hospital security is in the room, holding Kendall by the arms and pulling him back, away from Logan, further and further until he's screaming, fighting against their firm grasp, because if he doesn't get to Logan right now, then he's going to die.
And the worse thing is, that's actually a possibility.
That night, Kendall finds himself curled up in Logan's bed, under the covers, and he's surrounded by warmth, surrounded by Logan, and nothing but Logan. Kendall actually tried reading one of his medical books, in hopes that there was a section on car accidents, but he'd got a pretty intense headache after a little over ten minutes. The text was so small, and there really weren't any pictures, not counting the several pages of diagrams in the back.
Instead, he's crying quietly, and he feels like this is the only place where it's safe to do so, where no one can see him. He had to be strong, had to be the rock for James and Carlos and Katie, for his own mother. He was so used to being the man of the house, and he just wanted to take everybody's pain.
"Kendall?" comes a soft voice from the doorway, and he looks up to see Carlos and James behind the door, peeking inside. "Can we come in?" This time, it's Carlos who speaks, and his voice is so small, so uncertain, and Kendall's heart falters.
"Sure," he says, because, honestly, he doesn't want to be alone. Not tonight.
His friends walk over to the bed, and he moves over to make room for them. This was how they expressed that they truly cared for each other, with platonic touches. They had no problem with sharing a bed, sitting on each other's laps, sharing clothes. No problem getting dressed or undressed together. For anyone else, it might have been awkward, but they were just genuinely comfortable with one another. Besides, if girls could do all that, why couldn't they?
And James and Carlos don't hesitate in getting close, and after a few seconds of shuffling around, Carlos ends up in the middle, his head resting on Kendall's chest, and legs entwined with James'. James has his arm stretched around Kendall, so the blonde's head rests gently over it.
And, maybe just from the very fact that they were doing this, cuddling in Logan's bed in his absence, when he should be right there with them, Carlos begins to cry, softly at first- Kendall doesn't even know until he feels hot tears soak through his t-shirt, and then it's just too much, too much, seeing Carlos in such a fragile, vulnerable state.
Then, James starts up too. Kendall can tell that he's trying to hold back, trying to be the strong one, but he just breaks, all at one second, and, just like before, Kendall's tears continue, just like they were before.
They cried themselves to sleep that night- the only comfort they had supplied by each other.
They got the call around nine forty five the following morning. The five minutes that his mother spent on the phone with the hospital was the longest three hundred seconds of Kendall's life.
But then, she hangs up, turning to look at her sons with tearful eyes as she says,
"L-Logan… he's… around… two thirty four in the morning… he's gone, boys. He's gone."
-Kendall is off, running down the stairs, through the front doors, down the street, and he doesn't know where the hell he's going, but maybe it's for the best, because he really doesn't want to think about anything at all right now.
Then, on top of it all, it starts raining, pouring, and he just lets loose. He throws back his head, opens his mouth, and screams, long and loud, up to the sky. People slow down to stare, but he doesn't care, because he's dead, he's dead.
Logan is dead. Gone. He would never see him again. Logan would never become a doctor, never marry Camille, never again be a member of a boy band.
Gone. Four letters, an ordinary word, yet with so much meaning.
Gone.
He's gone.
-It's a few days after the funeral, three, to be exact, when they begin going through Logan's things. It's painful, really, it hurts beyond belief, but it had to be done.
Carlos is on Logan's computer, just messing around, when he stumbles upon the web history. He scrolls through a few of the pages that Logan had been on, and his eyes widen, he covers his mouth with his hand. He can barely croak out, "Guys," before his breath leaves him completely.
Kendall and James rush over, looking over his shoulder at the screen. Their expressions match his after reading the URL alone.
It was a website… a website meant for depressed people. There were user-written articles on how they planned on killing themselves, and comments consisting of ideas and "creative" ways to do so.
Kendall couldn't stand it after reading the first three sentences. "He… Logan really did kill himself," he whispers, the tears already coming.
Suicide.
And Logan.
Those two things, couldn't fit together, no.
"Why would you do that? Jeez, Logan, why would you kill yourself? Is it something one of the guys did? Something I did? You seemed so happy! You were eating fine, sleeping all right, and you were talking like normal! What went wrong? Could I have fixed it? You know I could have at least helped, Logan, you're so stupid! Why? Why? WHY?"
Kendall falls to the grass in front of Logan's tombstone in a fit of tears and wrenching sobs, and he really can't figure out what's happened in the past week. His life just fell apart at the seams, all because of Logan. Logan. The voice of reason. The guiding force that kept them from doing careless things on a daily basis. And then, he went and committed suicide.
Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?
"Hey," Kendall hears a very soft voice from behind him, sounding worried, tired, but at the same time frantic and scared.
Carlos.
"We couldn't find you," he says, sitting next to Kendall in the grass, "me and James. We thought that maybe you… you…"
He doesn't finish the sentence, for which Kendall is grateful. "No. I wouldn't do that to you guys. But then, I didn't think Logan would, either, but he did." Kendall laughs shakily. "I guess you can't trust anyone."
"But I trust you," Carlos whispers, putting a hand over his friend's. "I trust you with my life."
"Don't say that," Kendall snaps, pulling his hand away, ignoring the hurt and surprise on Carlos' face. "Don't ever say that. I couldn't save Logan. I didn't even see that anything was wrong with him. And, if it happened again, I couldn't save James, or Katie, or my mom, or you, or even myself. No one should trust me. I let my best friend die!"
And then he collapses forward into Carlos' arms, and he's sobbing, letting out all his inhibitions and weaknesses, and he's not afraid. Carlos won't judge him. Carlos won't leave him. Carlos is loyal as a three month old golden retriever puppy.
And then, Carlos is crying too, and he's leaning forward to whisper, "You can do anything, Kendall. I know you can. Nobody saw what was going on with Logan. It's not your fault. Never your fault. Logan was too sick to do anything to stop himself. It's not your fault. Not my fault. Not James' fault. This one was all Logan. Nobody else."
Kendall's sobs are reducing to tears and sniffles and whimpers, and Carlos is grinning tearfully, lacing their fingers together. "There you go. We're going to get through this, Kendall. I promise."
"Kendall?" Logan whispers as they're climbing into bed, the night before the incident.
"Yeah?" the blonde replies, sitting up on his elbow to face his best friend. "What's up?"
"I-I just wanted to know… if I did something really, really stupid, would you still like me? For me?"
Kendall snorts, nods. "Of course I would, stupid." The words are laced with affection, tender yet platonic care. "I care about you. I would do anything for you."
"Okay," Logan says softly, and Kendall can't see the tears coming down his cheeks.
"Logie, is there something wrong? Anything you want to tell me?"
Logan hesitates before saying, "No, no. I was just… wondering."
Kendall shrugs. "Well, all right then. Night, buddy."
And, after Logan is sure that his roommate is asleep, he walks silently over to his bed, leans down and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. "Good bye, Kendall."
… well. Hope that didn't make you too depressed. It was going to be a bit longer, but I'm really tired for once. Review, please. I really, really need to know how I'm doing. Criticism is welcomed. Thanks for reading! 3