One shot, might make it a multi chapter fic.
Disclaimer: I do not own Big Time Rush.
Breathing. It should be the most simplistic thing in the world. In. And out. It does not require a conscious thought. You just do it.
But sometimes, there is a person that enters your life, and they take even the simplicity of breathing away. That person can enter the room and you would just stand there, frozen in place, mouth opening and closing with no words. You start sweating slightly, trying to remember how to breathe, but at this point, your own name isn't apart of your vocabulary.
That person probably thinks you have some type of horrendous disorder by now, with your flushed cheeks and your incoherent words. This one person does that to you every single time they within a one hundred foot radius, and as utterly gut wrenching as the the feeling is, you just can't get enough of it.
You thrive for it as if it makes your existence on this planet worth something. That one person is your own personal center, the device that keeps you afloat. This person may not even know your name, thinks that you belong in an institution, and laughs at you when you aren't paying attention. None of that matters as they continue existing.
But without that one person, your life would be a hopeless heap of nothing. Getting up in the morning and living would serve no purpose. The reason for your existence would deflate, and you would go right down with it.
I would like to think everyone has that one person.
I know I do.
My name is Logan Henderson, and the beautiful creature named James Maslow is my existence.