Author's Note: Well, here it is - my first attempt at a slash multi-chap fic. Any feedback is definitely appreciated.
The title for this story comes from "Back Home," a song by Yellowcard. I actually came up with the idea for this story before I even was looking for a name and it's extremely strange how perfectly that song fits. I guess it was just meant to be.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Big Time Rush or any of the characters.
Thinking.
That's all Kendall Knight seems to be doing anymore, the chill of the ice below him soothing his brain. As the metal blades from the bottom of his skates slice through the surface below, his mind wanders off, thinking of how he ended up back here in Minnesota. He isn't angry or bitter about his current situation; just a bit frustrated about how it all came to be. He hadn't thought about it in months, maybe even a year at this point. His thoughts circle around his head just as he circles the rink, hands shoved deep into his pockets as the background music keeps him company.
On his tenth lap around the perimeter, he finally decides to grab the cones from the center of the rink, left there after the final skating class that night. Kendall smirks to himself as he weaves between them, dreaming of the former glory he felt while still in high school, fading back to the packed stands chanting his name. His teammates and best friends would be by his side celebrating the win, but he was their captain. Those were his moments to shine; all the praise was for him, and him alone.
Kendall bit his lip to control the bitterness boiling up from his stomach as he skated off the rink, placing the cones on the bench near the open gate. He sat next to the stack, unlacing the skates and placing them under the bench until the next morning when he would return to work and start the day over again. Sliding his feet into his well-worn sneakers, Kendall walked up the bleachers into the tiny announcer booth to shut down the P.A. system. As he quickly bounced down the stairs, he heard what sounded like the massive steel doors at the entrance slamming shut.
After locking the gate to the rink itself, Kendall carefully made his way around the corner towards the front of the building, cutting through the concessions area to peek through the glass window. He noticed a tall figure slowly moving through the wide empty hallway. Kendall ducked down just enough, keeping his eyes level with the counter. The figure moved through the second set of doors, into the main room where the rink was. Kendall groaned quietly to himself, knowing that the leisurely skating session he decided to have caused him to shut down the arena later than normal. If only I had locked the doors on time, he thought. Then, I wouldn't be dealing with whoever this fucking weirdo is.
As Kendall slowly moved from the concessions area back to the main room, he noticed that the tall figure was now fidgeting with the lock on the rink.
"Hey!" Kendall shouted as he moved from his hiding spot from the corner of the room. "You can't do that, we're closed!"
The figure, which Kendall now identified as a man wearing a sweatshirt with the hood up and sunglasses on, backed away slowly with his hands in the air.
"Sorry…" he stammered out quietly. "Just thought they would have kept the same old broken locks they had here for the past twenty years…"
Past twenty years? Kendall knew every person who used this rink by first, middle, and last name. After all, as owner of the local ice rink, this was his kind of business to know. He may have only been in charge for two short years, but he knew what he was doing and was damn proud of it. Kendall shook his head and took a few more steps closer to the other man.
"What's your name?" Kendall asked, sounding a bit hesitant and nervous, like he was frightened of this "intruder."
"Really?" The other man scoffed at the question, chuckling deeply as he shook his head. Kendall clenched his fists at his side as his temper started to rise.
"Look, it was a simple question," Kendall said, his teeth grinding against one another. He didn't like this guy's attitude, not on his own turf anyway.
"Haven't changed a bit, have you, Knight?" The man chuckled again, this time a bit lighter. Kendall felt even more flustered at the comeback, his brain searching for an answer. There wasn't anyone in this town that visited the rink that was this tall, dressed this well, or…
"James…" Kendall looked up from the concrete floor, his fists loosening and voice becoming softer. The other man flashed his smile as he removed his hood and sunglasses, neatly folding them and sliding them onto his shirt.
"Surprise?" James laughed again, the sound echoing off the walls of the arena. Kendall remained frozen in place, his head tilted to the side with one eyebrow raised, studying his former best friend in front of him. James' smile fell as Kendall stayed put, not budging an inch.
"Aren't you going to, y'know…" James moved closer, his voice a bit more subdued. "Tell me how much you missed me?"
And there it was again. The bitterness Kendall had forgotten about suddenly rushed back through his system, the blood pumping through his veins as he clenched his fists yet again. The adrenaline rush was something Kendall happily welcomed back as he raised his fist, swiftly connecting it to James' jaw. The pop star's body hit the Plexiglas wall as he shouted in surprise, Kendall rushing to grab his duffel bag from the bench next to them.
Before stomping off to finish up some paperwork in his office, Kendall stared down at the seemingly fragile man leaning against the rink wall, holding his now bruising jaw.
"Welcome back to Minnesota," Kendall sneered, slinging his bag over his shoulder before making his way down to the small office right outside the opposite end of the rink.
While Kendall stormed off down to the other room, James slowly stood up, rubbing his now sensitive jaw line, lips twisting into a goofy grin.
I missed you too, buddy.
Kendall flung his duffel bag into the large armchair resting in the corner of his "office;" a room that had definitely seen better days. A worn wooden desk sat in the middle of the room, stacks of paperwork and binders scattered across the desktop. A large bookshelf took up the wall on the right, filled with gold and silver trophies from over the years. An old desktop computer monitor hummed as Kendall sat in the flimsy office chair in front of it, moving the mouse to awaken the machine from its slumber. After pulling out a folded piece of paper and opening it, Kendall started typing the day's numbers into a spreadsheet. His fingers hit each key hard, but the clicking of the keyboard was barely audible over his racing thoughts.
Why is he here? Kendall gritted his teeth as the thoughts poured out. Of all the fucking places he could go, why here? Why now? He groaned as the ancient computer lagged as he entered the numbers, just wanting to get out of the rink and back home as fast as he could, as far away as he could from James.
As soon as the document saved, Kendall jumped out of the rickety chair, snatching his duffel from the chair and exiting the office after locking and slamming the door behind him. He did a quick walk around the arena, searching for any sign that James could still be there, but everything was just as it was. He let out a deep breath as he shut down all the lights before walking slowly through the exit, knowing that James could pop back in the rink at any time while he was home.
Fantastic.
The drive back to his apartment was quiet and too slow. All Kendall wanted to do was go home, crack open a beer, and watch television before drifting off to sleep. But of course, that one damn thought couldn't leave his mind; he couldn't shut his brain off. The radio began to play a familiar, upbeat track.
"…And now here's the newest song coming from James Diamond!" The disc jockey said, talking over the instrumental intro of the track. "According to certain sources, the pop star is enjoying some time off back home – maybe he's getting our favorite boy band back together!"
"NO!" Kendall shouted, as if the DJ could hear him through his car stereo as his fingers started pressing buttons – it didn't matter what they did, just as long as that godforsaken song by that asshole stopped playing. The radio tuned itself to a classical station and Kendall let out another deep breath, rubbing his face with his free hand. He couldn't handle all of this today, knowing that James was within a few miles of him at any given moment.
After parking in his driveway, Kendall walked up the path to his backdoor, unlocking it and walking inside. He threw his keys down on the counter, kicking off his shoes as he headed straight for the refrigerator. The chill from it felt good against Kendall's flushed skin as he grabbed a bottle of beer, grabbing it before he walked to his bedroom.
Kendall placed the bottle on the nightstand as he stripped out of his clothes from that day, leaving him only in his boxers. He plugged his phone in to charge and clicked on the television set before lounging in bed against his mountain of pillows. He cracked open the bottle, taking a long sip. The taste was familiar and instantly helped him relax from what started off as a stress-free day. A sudden buzzing came from the table next to the bed, and Kendall glanced over to see the screen illuminated with a very familiar name and picture. He placed the bottle back down as he answered.
"Logan, you will not believe what happened today," Kendall said, not even bothering to say hello. All he could hear from the other end was a groan.
"Well, hi to you too," Logan said sarcastically. "My day was great, thanks for asking!"
"Sorry!" Kendall sighed. "But you have to hear what happened!"
"Fine, go ahead."
"So, I was closing up the rink like I always do at night, right?" Kendall started to explain. "But some guy comes waltzing in, messing with the lock on the gate and I go to confront him and he just laughs!"
Kendall could hear Logan chuckling on the other end.
"So?" Logan laughed lightly. "People come in after hours all the time! And you pretty much always let them skate!"
"That's not the point!" Kendall shouted a bit, feeling the anger rise again. "It was different this time!"
"What was different?" Logan laughed, still amused by his friend's anguish over the situation.
"The guy…" Kendall paused. "He's… he's not from here."
"So, did you tell him your operating hours?" Logan inquired. "Or did you let him skate or what? Kendall, seriously, what is the big deal here?"
"It was James!" Kendall cut off Logan's trail of thought and suddenly there was no laughter on the other end.
"It couldn't be, I thought he was…" Logan's voice was quiet, trailing off towards the end of his words. "Shit, man."
"Exactly…" Kendall sighed deeply once again.
"I don't know what to say, did you talk to him?"
"If by talk you mean 'Listen to him be an ass, then punch him.'"
"Kendall! You didn't!"
"I did, I couldn't control myself!"
"I thought you were over it, over him leaving the band!"
"I thought I was too but apparently not!"
Kendall could hear Logan let out a deep sigh, followed by a long pause. He knew Logan had his 'thinking face' on, trying to figure out some piece of advice to offer to his friend.
"Look, I have to get up early for clinicals," Logan stated. "But if I think of anything, I'll let you know."
"Alright," Kendall sighed once again. "Let Carlos know he's back, too. Maybe he'll get an idea."
"I bet he will," Logan chuckled a bit. "You should see how creative he gets with his projects for his students, dude was destined to be a teacher, you can just tell."
Kendall cracked a small smile, imagining Carlos in front of a whole classroom of first graders, explaining the colors of the rainbow, or why wearing a helmet is important for your personal safety.
"Night, Kendall," Logan said. "Don't beat yourself up over this, okay?"
"Thanks for listening, Logan," Kendall replied. "Goodnight." He removed the phone from his ear, ending the call and finishing off his beer.
As the television channel went from regular programming to infomercials, Kendall dozed off to sleep, dreaming of a different life where the four hockey players from Minnesota actually stayed true to their word and never let that singing thing or that town change them.