Hello, everyone. This will be a short story, probably a two or three shot story, AU BTR and kind of descriptive in terms of psychological disorders and adult situations. It's something new I'm trying in terms of telling a story, but I do hope I get some feedback to either continue and improve or take down and re-write. Please sit back, read, review and enjoy. :) Disclaimer: I own only the two shot's plot! Nothing else! And Shay and Jack aren't OCs! They are actually characters Kendall has played as in other shows! Their backgrounds, and Jack's last name, have been altered slightly but again they are NOT OCs! They are characters Kendall has played as, Shay from 'Without a Trace' and Jack from 'Ghost Whisperer' I think!

Hey there. I'm not sure if anyone is reading this or not, because society today doesn't see past it's own agenda, but my name's James.

James Diamond.

...Yeah, I know what you're thinking. It's a pretty strange last name; you don't hear Diamond that often when addressing a person, most likely a shiny, precious stone that most girls go dreamy-eye over. Well I'm not playing with you, that's my name. James Dylan Diamond, the son of Brooke Sabrina Diamond.

...Ha, I got you now!

Now that's a name you're most likely familiar with, right? My mom is the head, no make that the Queen, of Diamond Cosmetics. It dominants a majority of the competition and marketing in the Mid West, and over the years has expanded to California, Florida, even New York in small empires. My mom build DC from the ground up all by herself; my dad Alec wasn't one for make-up so he did most of the background work: setting up the company's website, inventory, you name it he did it. After my parents divorced when I was eight though, Dad moved away and married a lady fifteen years younger than him.

Let's just say Mom's still a bit bitter about that. But anyway, moving on.

A lot of people thought that Mom hasn't lost a lot after the divorce: it was only her husband, a friend and the father of her only son. My mom wasn't made of stone though; behind the sharp brown eyes and kind of control freak personality, she did have those rough nights after Dad left. I'm assuming that like me Dad was too afraid to stand up to her, but unlike me chose to leave before he lost his sanity. My mom wasn't hard to live with, but she could be a little...intimidating.

Intimidating to the extreme, but all in all she was still a great mom.

I mean, I'm a seventeen year old boy who's still a virgin (go ahead, laugh), doesn't drink or do drugs, party like crazy or ditch school to hang out with friends. I'm smart (and a pretty boy), driven, friendly (when I'm not being shy) and downright likable I hoped. I focused more on my studies (did I mention I'm a freshman in college?) and work (at the campus library) than dating or being "cool". I wasn't anti-social or anything, but I'd rather have a future than a bottle of vodka.

That, and because it's hard to find a good, decent person in this world when all everyone's focused on is sex. I'm pansexual (which thankfully my mom was okay with) so gender doesn't really apply here, but personality? That was a BIG thing for me; to date a bad boy or sweet goody two-shoes? Doesn't sound like much, but to me it was everything.

Mom, and deep down I agreed, didn't want me to go through what she did. Whoever I brought home she picked apart like a puzzle, to see if that person was really "worthy" of her son.

Of her socially awkward, schizophrenic, bi-polar, introverted son.

...Yeah, I have a list of "unique" quirks. I was diagnosed with bi-polar disorder when I was thirteen, diagnosed with schizophrenia two years later. Mom suffered another big blow when my doctor gave her the news: schizophrenia was hereditary, something my grandpa and uncle on Dad's side had. Grandpa Jameson, who I was named after, made it through life okay but Uncle Bradley committed suicide at twenty-five. He was not that much older than me when he drowned himself at the beach during a family outing.

First the divorce, and now this.

How did my mom manage to keep it all together was beyond me...

...

The fear of me doing the same was clear on my mom's face that day. I was fifteen then, had no clue what was wrong until Doctor Stone and Mom sat me down and explained that I'd have to take certain medications for the rest of my life and attend therapy with Dr. Wainwright. She's my therapist to this day, I'm always on time for our weekly meetings every Friday afternoon at five.

You can say that finding out her son had both bi-polar disorder and undifferentiated-type schizophrenia made Mom even more protective of me than she already was.

I mean, she taught me how to be social, confident and driven. The driven lesson I got down, since at seventeen I was on a full scholarship at one of the best universities in Minnesota. That, and my test scores, back when I was only in eighth grade, said I had the brains of a college junior. I was smart, very smart which was a surprise mostly to me. My disorders didn't break my strife, didn't make me think less of myself as a person. Life is hard but it's only Hell if you let it be.

It was the fact that...sometimes they got in the way of things.

I had to fill out a bunch of medical documentation when I started college this year, the nurse pressing me not to leaving anything out. She wasn't allowed to give me medication but I WAS allowed to have it as long as they knew why I needed it. I was allow to self-medicate and keep my regular therapist, not change to a counselor on campus but that didn't mean I didn't feel picked out. Plenty of kids had their own challenges to face, it's just that schizophrenia was something usually painted as "dangerous, unstable". True, I could get a little out of hand when I didn't take my meds, but I rarely forgot to and while on them I was lucid. I functioned like a "normal" individual, nice and respectful of everyone.

My type of schizophrenia had symptoms that could fall under one or all four types. That must have made people think I was unstable even on medication, through and through.

Everyone seemed to un-acknowledge that I was bi-polar too. I guess in the back of their twisted minds, schizophrenia was ten times more of a horrible experience than bi-polar II.

Such a lovely world we live in, so closed minded and ignorant.

Which in no time resulted in me...being left alone.

Mom wasn't with me on campus. She visited every weekend and called every day, but it wasn't the same. There was just so much she could offer as company to me. She had her life, I was starting mine. Even though I was a minor I had begged her to let me move out and she agreed, on the conditions that I'd do my best and let her check up on me. She didn't see that every week I spent alone.

I didn't have a roommate, so I got the small, low-ceiling room made of prison gray bricks to myself. A few people knew about my "problems" and tended to avoid me, others just didn't notice me period. I ate breakfast alone, I went to class alone, I worked out alone, I did homework alone, I walked to my dorm alone.

Lessons in sociality and confidence had slipped through the weary cracks in my skull from there.

Everything I did, I did alone. And it did bug me, being treated differently because of my disorders. Mom kept saying that things would get better, that it's only the first few weeks but honestly I didn't buy it. I saw no improvement in the situation, and thought for a while that I'd graduate without any friends to miss, stories to tell, nothing at all to share.

Keyword: for.

For a while I thought that was the case. But after about a month into the school year, my quiet, loner freshman life was shattered. By a dirty blond problem.

Make that THREE dirty blond problems.

Oh, where to begin?

-Page Break-

Hey, you actually came back? Wow, it's a surprise to me, someone is actually interested in what I have to say. That's a rare thing to find, apart from in my professors.

Well, enough about my awe. Let's get to the real story; I've gotten my background out of the way, now to address my present-day dilemma.

Remember when I said that after a month into the school year, my once lonely freshman life was shattered to pieces? By a dirty blond problem?

Actually make that number three, three dirty blond problems.

My whole routine, lifestyle busted to pieces like an expensive glass vase.

A month into the school year, three days after my eighteenth birthday I got the news that I'd be getting a roommate.

...I felt mixed about this.

On one hand, I was excited. After weeks of coming to an empty, echoey dorm room every night after work, some kind of human contact was a double rainbow in the sky. The opportunity for a person to get to know me and not be held back by my disorders made me jittery; a new face, a new voice, a new friend. It filled me up with so much anticipation that I found it hard to sleep most nights.

That was the optimistic, social side of me that rarely came about nowadays.

On the other hand though, I was petrified! Another person in the room, who could be silently passing judgements about my interests, personality, routine? I was so use to being alone, the concept of a roommate was almost alien. Dr. Wainwright said that it could benefit me to have a roommate, if I was to get one, because I'd develop more close, personal relationships outside her, Mom and Dr. Stone. Not that it was bad I was introverted, but even introverts had to try and break the shell sometime.

And fears could be the absolute worst thing to hold a person back from trying new things.

Huh, no negatives yet. Interesting...

You can see where this is going, right?

So from there, about a week later I finally met my roommate. He was seventeen, would turn legal in November, and a dirty blond with bottle green eyes, thick dark eyebrows, and a blunt nose. His name was Kendall Knight, and like me was here on a scholarship but unlike me on a HOCKEY scholarship. I loved hockey, it was my favorite sport but I couldn't play for the school's team since it would cut heavily into my studying time. I did go to all the games though, home or away, so I saw him a lot. He had a few classes with me too, even though he was a Music major while I swayed more towards the English department. He was okay with having me as a roommate, despite the word going around the school's grapevine about me, the schizophrenic.

The weird, nerdy schizophrenic bi-polar boy named James Diamond.

And that was because, because he had it hard too.

Kendall Knight, my roommate who soon over time also became my best friend, suffered from depression and TS.

TS was short for Tourette syndrome.

Tourette syndrome was a condition in which a person makes these repeated, quick movements or sounds they can't control. Like for example, cracking their neck or a sudden twitch of the eye or leg. They call these uncontrollable sounds or movements tics, and it's something usually noticeable in childhood. He wasn't treated for this, since the medications could produce side effects worse than the symptoms themselves. He told me his tics were really bad when he was nine and ten years old, and that they've gotten better as he got older. They still came around, often annoying him to no end, but he's learned to accept them. He was glad he didn't have to add any other medications to his taking list, too; dealing with anti-depressants was enough.

To say that I was happy someone was...like me, was an understatement.

I mean, dealing with these sort of things is terrible and I wouldn't wish them even on my worst enemy. Don't think I'm happy that Kendall suffers from TS and depression; he's a great guy, sweet and funny and nice, I can't imagine how hard it is to have TS. I maybe a bi-polar schizophrenic, but it wasn't the same you know? What he had to face was completely different from what I had to face. I wish he didn't have to suffer like me, to be different like me.

But the fact that someone knew what it was like, it made me feel...normal.

Like I wasn't the only one who had more on their plate than others, and that it was okay to be different.

That it was OKAY to be ME!

We could spend hours talking about our lives, heck about everything else apart from that! We could talk for hours on end about our favorite sports, music, colors, artists, dream vacations! We'd help each other with homework, walk to class together, play street hockey in front of our dorm, eat together at the cafeteria or something quick in our room, everything we could do together we did. We even worked opposites shifts at the library; as I get off he's free, ready to head back to our room. He'd wait for me outside, listening to music or reading, until I'd come out.

He introduced me to his mom Jen and baby sister Katie, I introduced them to my mom. We'd spend weekends together, laugh together, okay in short we grew really close.

Not only because we both knew what it was like to live with something inside, but also because of our personalities.

They complimented each other: I was shy, he was out-going. I did homework weeks before it was due, he procrastinated with EVERYTHING. I was organized, he wasn't so organized. I was too trusting of others, he chose to trust only a few with his heart. We had our similarities and differences, but that only strengthened our relationship, our friendship. He was bi-sexual, at first afraid to tell me in case I didn't want to be friends anymore. The relief that had washed over him when I admitted I was pan made me smile.

He didn't reject me, and I didn't reject him.

People avoided us a lot more from then on, wondering why a seemingly normal guy like Kendall hung out with me. I felt guilty at first, that my presence drove possible friends for him away but he never really cared. He liked being around me, hanging out with me.

He liked me, he really liked me.

And I liked him. I really liked him.

-Page Break-

I know, I know, I mentioned I had THREE dirty blond problems. So far I've only mentioned one, am I right?

Well, here's dirty blond problem number two. Well they're not really problems per say, but they have been driving me up the Wall of Confusion as of late.

...Sorry about that, rambling again. Okay, moving on...!

Problem number two. Dirty blond problem number two.

His name is Shay Hanson, he was sixteen but not a freshie like me. He was taking advanced (AKA college) classes at the university, pretty ahead of the game for a sophomore. I met him in my six to eight-fifty A.M. Comm. (short for Communications) class, we were paired up for an improv speech. Our topic: is our culture oversexualized?

The speech had to be at least two minutes long, and we had to maintain eye contact, proper body language and volume before our audience.

I hated this class, with a passion I hated it. I hated talking in front of people, knowing a majority were eyeing me simply because of my bi-polar schizophrenic label. I just wanted to disappear, not be seen or noticed this time.

But Shay...Shay helped me.

During the whole speech he asked questions, pretending to be the skeptic, allowing me to step in and answer at own my pace. For some reason sharing information with others wasn't hard for me; I'd simply lose myself in recalling the numbers, footnotes and phrases to even remember why I was so nervous in the first place. In the end the audience clapped and we passed with a high B, something that nearly made me jump in glee. I rarely leave that class without a beet root red face.

I thought that would be the last time I'd ever see him. I was wrong, though.

We ran into each other in the hallway one Tuesday afternoon, as I was leaving the science building. It turned out my Principles of Bio. class was cancelled that day, meaning I had about two hours before I had to clock in at work. His Astronomy class got cancelled too since the teacher was at a wedding, which led to our encounter; Kendall was stuck in his Music Appreciation class for another hour, which meant I would have to find something to do alone in the meantime.

That is, until Shay invited me to catch the drama department's production of Romeo and Juliet with him.

At first I hesitated. Not many people asked me to join them for things; most were covers to make fun of me in front of the entire student body. Bullying wasn't something new to me, but Kendall was better at dealing with that than I was. The last thing I needed was to be shoved down the stairs, again.

But this dirty blond with olive green eyes, dark thick eyebrows, a blunt nose and split lower lip turned out to be nothing like a bully.

...

I'm not playing with you, Kendall and Shay could pass off as twins. They were roughly a year apart, only difference was that Shay was an only child like me. And that his eyes were olive green, not bottle. He worked at the local grocery store, only blocks away from the university. He lived with a friend; he had left his parents' place days after turning sixteen.

...Moving on.

He was funny, shy like me, and really nice and smart. We shared opinions on the department's interpretation of the famous star-crossed lovers, the subplot, costume designs, etc. We continued to talk even when the play was over, us keeping quiet during the scenes and going for the water fountain during intermissions. He was pleasant to talk to, and from there we saw each other regularly.

He wouldn't meet me with Kendall, though. He claimed he was really shy around new people, that it got him nervous and I didn't want to push him so I didn't press the matter. I felt bad about...practically sneaking around behind Kendall's back to meet him, but Shay wasn't ready so I didn't push him. The two knew about each other, it's not hard to realize you have a twin of sorts walking around, but both seemed to avoid each other when it came to me.

I liked Kendall, I really did. But I really liked Shay too, and wished we could all hang out as friends. Especially when Shay admitted to having DID.

DID stood for Dissociative identity disorder.

That was a disorder in which a person could have one, two or more distinct personalities, or "persons", living in the same body. The age, gender, memory, etc. of the "person" could vary, though the central personality (Shay) can experience blackouts when these others take over. After the control is given back to him, he is left with large portions of his memories missing and unable to recover them. It's something Shay has struggled with since he was little; his friend always went with him to therapy, though he didn't take medication for it.

Shay had three distinct personalities, apart from his own: there was Jeff, the more impulsive, angry and irrational side of him that was thirteen. Next came Addie, a little five year old girl who was easily brought to tears but liked to sing and dance. And Lastly Simon, the thirty-two year old who rarely raised his voice, was calm and collected and didn't fall apart under pressure. Jeff, Addie, and Simon were the other core parts of who Shay was, and whether he liked them or not they were there to stay.

About twenty-seven percent of people who develop this disorder are said to have suffered extreme sexual abuse as a child. Shay, after breaking down in my arms, told me that was he raped by a family friend when he was seven and that the abuse continued until he was twelve. When he finally told his parents at fourteen, they didn't believe him and made him apologize to his rapist for lying. Of course once Shay's friend had enough money for an apartment, he left with him days after turning sixteen. His mother begged him to come back, after realizing he was telling the truth, but Shay cut off all connection with her. And his dad was an alcoholic bastard anyway, there was no need to waste breath on scum.

Sex was, and still is, a sensitive subject for him. He was gay and out of the closet and proud of it, but being touched was another story.

...

Shay's had it hard too, just like Kendall.

Just like me.

And that was enough for me to drag them to finally meet face-to-face. Both blonds were as stubborn as two-ton boulders, but eventually caved in to my pleas. Like I suspected, after getting to know each other and having plenty of time to talk, the two became friends. I know that what the three of us have to deal with individually differed greatly, but friends who knew the pain, the loneliness of it all suddenly weren't so different. It's not just what was the same that brought people together; it was what was different, too.

And people sometimes are stronger together than all alone.

I knew that from experience, and Kendall did too. And so did Shay.

And so did someone else...

-Page Break-

I'm actually glad you're still here, to hear the rest of the story that's my life. Well, I'm only eighteen so the story of my life so far.

Before we go any farther, I want to make something clear again: these dirty blond "problems" aren't really problems. They're my best friends. A lot of people confuse them as triplets, related but they aren't and are completely different from the other. They've helped survive me the fall semester, and I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world.

It's just...I have to say this now or my dilemma won't make much sense.

The real problem is...is that all three blonds seem to have feelings for me.

...

Yeah, it's that type of problem. Not the "friends secretly hate each other behind each other's back" problem.

It's the "oh no, I'm stuck in a love square" problem.

A love square; rare but it CAN happen.

And currently something that IS happening right now with me, Kendall, Shay and Jack.

Wait, hold on a second...I haven't introduced Jack yet. Damn things slip by me, sorry about that. Well, since this is a new page in the story, I'll take these next few lines to introduce you to my third dirty blond "problem", Jack Chaser.

Jack Chaser wasn't a high schooler taking advanced courses like Shay, or a freshie like me and Kendall. He wasn't a brainy high schooler, not a chipper freshie or sophomore but a junior; he was two grades ahead of me and Kendall, and unlike Shay who hoped to be a Psychology major he was going for a career on stage. He was twenty and had played Mercutio in the school's play, his performance spectacular and doing justice to the beloved character. Jack was known as the player, one of the most flirtatious guys on campus. All he had to do was smile or wink and his target would be putty in his hands.

Kendall was the music guy; Shay was the bad boy; that left Jack the player title. He was demisexual, with dirty blond hair shorter than Shay's but longer than Kendall's, with deep forest green eyes, thick dark eyebrows, a blunt nose and a large tattoo of black angel wings across his shoulders and down his back. He was lean like Shay and Kendall and had three older siblings, all girls. All of their names started with a J: Jack, Jessica, Jolene, and Jasmine.

He wasn't here on a scholarship. He worked as many hours as he could to pay the tuition and board, with his sisters helping him out with their positions as ATs (assistant teachers). He worked at the cafeteria Mondays, Wednesdays and Sundays, then clocked in for his shift at the library as a Biology tutor on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He also babysat Jolene's twins on Fridays. Saturdays were his rehearsal days.

Jack was one of the popular guys, though he was part of the fraternity that wasn't famous for several accounts of date rape. He was a pretty nice guy, stood up for the little guys so to speak, had a knack for acting and very smart too.

Unlike Shay and Kendall and me, Jack didn't have a dominating inner demon to deal with.

But his sister Jasmine did. She had congenital heart disease, heart abnormalities present at birth that disrupt the proper flow of blood. The defect was within the chambers of her heart, and symptoms included fatigue, shortness of breath, rapid heartbeat, swelling of the abdomen or eyes, and bluish skin.

She had surgery during the Christmas break. We weren't together at the time, but we called, texted, and e-mailed each other every day. We sent Jack our best wishes, hoping everything would work out.

Thankfully, he wouldn't have to bury his sister anytime soon, like he had to do for his parents after the car crash that took their lives four years ago.

From there Jack hung out with us 24/7. He played soccer for the school and we went to all his games. He, Kendall and Shay got weird looks from time to time, considering the three could pass off as triplets but they didn't pay too much attention.

The fact that they were hanging with the nerdy schizophrenic bi-polar guy that was me garnered some attention too, but I've learned to ignore the negativity, the stares and overall rudeness.

Just like how I learned, the last week of break before the spring semester, that Kendall, Shay and Jack...all three had feelings for me.

All three.

You see why I called them my three dirty blond problems now?

-Page Break-

I for one do not think I'm attractive.

Yeah I was pretty well built, and inherited my dad's soft brown hair and hazel-green eyes from Uncle Bradley, but attractive? Nah, not even close; I even humored the pretty boy thing, because pretty I was far from.

I don't know if it was voices in my head that got me to believe that or my own reflection in the mirror. Point is, I was as "pretty" as a freshly painted wall. A white wall.

Bland, boring, ugly.

You get the picture...

"So James, are you excited to be back for the new semester?" Kelly asked me, arms crossed over her lap and a big, cheery smile on her face.

Kelly was Dr. Wainwright, my therapist and aunt. She wasn't my aunt by blood, but she's practically seen me grow up and everything. I loved her like family, blood or not.

I blinked, still feeling the effects of my bi-polar medication. I couldn't remember the name of it, but it was pretty powerful stuff. Just like what I took for my schizophrenia.

"Y-yeah, I guess?" Kelly's dark chocolate eyes grew concerned, her long, wavy black hair falling down her shoulders like a rich waterfall.

"Jamie honey, what's wrong? Something's on your mind, it's clear by the look on your face."

I racked my brain for the proper words, proper words to phrase my inner struggle. "It's about Kendall. And Shay. And Jack."

"Is Jasmine doing alright? Has Shay been having nightmares again? And Kendall, has his depression worsened?" Kelly knew everything about my friends. She's talked to them before, offered her help no matter what the problem was. She's grown to care about them as much as she did about me.

"No, no oh God no. I mean they're okay; Jasmine's doing fine and Shay is using the art club to vent his feelings out. Kendall's okay too, in fact his tics aren't happening as much anymore. It's just...they told me something over break that's had me dreading coming back."

"...What did they tell you, sweetie?" I took a deep breath, meeting her eyes.

"Jack, Shay and Kendall...they told me, you know in separate calls over break, that they h-have feelings for me."

There, I said it. The rock sitting on my chest felt a little lighter.

Kelly's eyes grew wide at this, expression surprised. "Oh..."

"Yeah. Auntie, what am I supposed to do? No, better question is how the hell did this happen?! I mean, how could three people fall for the SAME person?! And for me of all people!" I exclaimed, head now between my knees as I broke down crying.

I usually didn't lose control so easily, especially under my medications, but this was too much of an emotional drain. I couldn't carry it on my own.

I felt the couch sink under me as Kelly sat down beside me and pull me into her arms, my hands gripping her shoulders while she stroked my hair with her thin, warm fingers.

"Oh honey, I'm sorry. I know this must be confusing for you but don't let it stress you out. It's not going to help you, only hurt you. Look, I think I can say that I know Kendall, Shay and Jack well enough to know they won't push you into anything. They will give you time to think this through, you don't have to make a choice right now."

"B-but that's just it, Auntie. I don't know WHO to choose, I don't know how I...how I FEEL about each of them."

I pulled away to wipe my eyes, head spinning. "They're my f-friends, Auntie. I mean the first real friends I've had in a long time. People avoid me like the plague just because I have schizophrenia. I was so alone at first and now I'm not; I don't want anything to ruin it, this. They mean a lot to me, and helped me b-b-break out of my shell. And why me? I'm just James Diamond, nothing special..."

Kelly's eyes flared dangerously, a stern look on her face now. "James Dylan Diamond, do NOT talk about yourself like that! You're a sweet, wonderful boy and one of the smartest people I know! Life hasn't been fair to you but instead of letting it turn you bitter, you've bettered yourself and are becoming such a fine young man! And you are very beautiful, honey, very very beautiful. You just don't see it is all, as most beautiful people: they can't see or say how beautiful they are, they're very modest. YOU are modest, James, and you should never talk that way about yourself. You are amazing, my adorable and strong nephew and you WILL figure this out. How do I know? Because you are smart, you are a good friend and will do the best for yourself. So don't stress out now, okay? Stay strong, I know you can figure this out."

I didn't respond, merely rested my head on her lap and closed my eyes. She carded her fingers through my hair again, it somewhat soothing, while she hummed softly the karaoke version of one of my favorite Maroon 5 songs.

Did I know what I want? Could I really figure this out?

-Page Break-

I ignored calls and texts from Kendall, Shay and Jack.

I plopped down on my bed and stared at the ceiling, so many things buzzing in my ears.

Tomorrow they would be be back, Jack and Kendall and Shay. I chose to come back to Sherwood U early, have the room to myself to think tonight.

To think and sleep, to sleep and think.

I sat up and threw my phone aside, it landing on my empty backpack.

I was in for a long night.