A Song You'll Regret

Chapter Two

By: Jondy Macmillan

A/N: This took forever, ugh, and it is awful. I apologize. I am just not good at pulling off this pairing.

Bundle up and come with me now, down the road to the burnt down barn. We could make a blanket of coats and breathe our souls into the neighbors' front lawn. But oh god, that look in your eye; trouble that does not search words. It sprung from the biblical vine and is waiting to return to the dirt.

The stitches in your winter clothes, your cello bows, we stole your hair to make them. We're sorry for the iron shoes we nailed to you, and stuck you in the rain. You sprinted away, sprinted away to where I don't know. God's moving in your bloodstream where the cross beats aren't so slow.

-Broken Horse by Freelance Whales-

Logan woke up to the blaring sound of a Lady Gaga song on James's radio alarm clock and an empty bed.

He groaned and buried his face in the sheets, trying to drown out the music. He was very much not a morning person. But James's pillow smelled like a mixture of James's fancy tropical shampoo and manspray mixed with the earthier smell of the herbal conditioner Kendall's mom bought.

The herbal conditioner that Kendall and Logan both used. It bothered him that he couldn't figure out if the lingering scent was from his own head or that of a certain blond.

The door to the room was closed. He didn't know if James had left or if he was grabbing breakfast or- that was the thing. Logan didn't know anything, and it wasn't a feeling he liked very much.

He'd only been lying awake for a few minutes before he heard a noise outside the door. It was James, and it sounded like he had just caught a glimpse of himself having a very bad hair day. Except that wasn't it, because a beat later, Logan heard Kendall, mumbling an apology.

And then-

"What are you doing?" Kendall mumbled, his voice strong but faded behind the door.

"I-" he heard James's voice falter, and Logan could almost feel his gaze boring through the wood, into the room, weighing the consequences of whatever he would say next.

When the silence went on for too long, Logan felt this tight, gnawing fear that James had gone with the most awful choice possible, kissing Kendall right then and there in the hallway. Kissing Kendall even though he knew Logan was only a few feet away.

He scrambled out of bed. His hands were moving to push open the door before he'd made the conscious decision to actually do it.

They weren't kissing.

But Kendall's hand was resting casually on James's hip, and James was leaning into the touch like maybe kissing Kendall was all he really ever wanted to do.

Logan cleared his throat. Kendall's expression went carefully blank as he glanced between Logan and James. He said, "Oh."

And then he began to walk into the kitchen. James grabbed his arm and said, "Kendall, wait."

Logan watched, breath held, as Kendall replied, "Dude. Just- no. It's not. It's not anything, okay? I've got a pool date with Jo."

James visibly folded in upon himself, crumpling. Logan wanted to slam Kendall's head into a wall.

The two of them watched as Kendall fled the apartment. James turned back to Logan, eyes wide and hurt.

"Logan, I-"

"It's okay."

James stared at him, his expression inscrutable. Finally he asked, "You sure?"

"Yeah. It's fine."

It wasn't even close to fine, but Logan had known what he was getting himself into the second James had invited him into his bed. Logan stepped forward and kissed James, right there in the hallway, because he felt like he had to make a point.

"I don't know what you want from me," James breathed into his mouth, after a beat. Logan's fingers were resting against his hip, resting against the same spot Kendall had been touching seconds before.

"I want-" Logan bit his lip and thought about the things that he wanted, thought about how once upon a time James belonged only to him.

How when they were five they would swim in the lake behind school, fighting over who would be king of the mountain on top of this big, water slick rock right in the center, both of their moms floating on nearby inflatable rafts. How no one ever won the title of king, and they'd just lie on top of that rock, sunning themselves like baby seals until their moms snuck up behind them, tickling them until the entire quiet forest was filled with their squealing laughter.

How James had always lived next door to Logan, had always been there, been James, until he joined the hockey team and suddenly became a part of James-and-Kendall, attached at the hip because of their deep, fervent love of beating shit up with sticks. How Logan had to join the stupid team even though he hated sports and was kind of a pacifist and was pretty sure that he was legitimately going to do die during his first game; but James protected him from all of the biggest kids, just like always.

How they'd become James-and-Logan-and-Kendall-and-Carlos, best friends, but always together.

It was like James and Logan, next door neighbors, kings of the mountain, had never even existed. And Logan wanted that back, wanted all of it, wanted a day to have James to himself; but ever since Kendall first stepped foot in their lives it was like James had fucking tunnel vision. Like there was no one he could ever admire as much, love as much, want as much as Kendall fucking Knight, even though Logan had been there his entire life; supporting his stupid plans and helping him to be great.

Logan didn't know how to tell James any of that, how to tell him that he'd always been the center of Logan's world when Logan clearly had not even been close to the center of James's, so instead he tugged at the collar of James's t-shirt and kissed him again, soft and needy.

"Logan," James tried again, but it was muted against Logan's mouth and Logan didn't want to hear it. He was smart enough to know that none of this was going to end well for him, but there was a big difference between knowing something in your brain and wanting it in your heart, in your gut, and Logan was not going to deny himself one more chance to have this. Not when James seemed content to allow it.

Statistically speaking, taking into account crushes and puppy love and eliminating from the pool, there was a very, very low chance that a person's first love would be their last. And yet after that first time, Logan slipped into James's bed every night like clockwork, knowing that the sheets had been slept in by someone other than him.

He didn't care about statistics. Not anymore.

They had sex at an industry party, locked in one of the bathrooms that smelled like pineapple air freshener. James came with a shout, buried inside of Logan, while outside a cater-waiter asked a young ingénue if she wanted to try the tuna tataki.

Logan messed up his verses at a live concert two weeks into whatever this fucked up thing was.

He was fine, better than fine, he thought, until he noticed the way that James brushed up against Kendall in the middle of the bridge. Kendall smiled into the touch, and Logan could almost imagine the way his breath was hot against James's skin-

His voice cracked, words falling to the wayside. His mouth gaped open like a fish and it was only Carlos's quick elbow to his ribs that reminded him he was supposed to be doing something.

When he picked up the verse again, he tried to tell himself that his reaction was normal. He kept telling himself that later, when Gustavo wanted his head on a pike outside of Rocque Records. Normal, he thought. Normal. Jealousy is normal.

In a relationship, one person is always more invested than the other. That's just the way it works out. Perfect balance was impossible, Logan knew, outside of nature.

The laws of entropy always applied.

They fucked in the back of the Big Time Rush-mobile, hands slipping along the shiny siding of the Cadillac while James rode Logan's cock. They were right underneath the Hollywood sign, and all Logan could see was James, outlined by all the things that he loved about California; neon lights in pinkgreenelectricblue, yellow like Gatorade, the whole world abeatapulseathrum in his veins, his ears roaring with the sound of the highways and the crashing of waves miles away.

A few nights later, Logan was sitting in the living room, trying to focus on a TV show with Carlos, James, Kendall, and Jo. But really he was watching Jo crawl onto Kendall's lap, watching the way she settled into a kneel on the couch, straddling him. She looped her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes before she kissed him. It was intimate, and it was wrong, because Logan had seen Kendall do the same thing to James, had seen a shaky exhale turn into a desperate kiss between them.

Those nights stood out, clear in his mind, from the blue of the swimming pool to the familiar tile pattern of Kendall's counter back home.

Kendall had his arms wrapped around Jo's waist, his coke can sweating into the side of her blouse, and when he kissed her it was soft and sweet and nothing at all like the passion Logan had seen between him and James.

Logan felt like he was in the midst of a train wreck waiting to happen. That everyone knew was going to happen except for maybe Jo, who just wanted this; a sweet, chaste kiss from her boyfriend. He wanted to put a stop to it, but there wasn't any way to do it.

Not without hurting everyone involved.

Logan figured the best thing he could do was let them all grab the last bits of happiness they could before the collision. Even if he was suffering. Even if they were all suffering through it, even Kendall, who'd never been able to stand not knowing his own mind. Logan thought it must have been killing him; wanting James but not wholly understanding why. Wanting Jo while knowing that it would end in disaster.

It didn't make him any less of a bastard, but Logan wouldn't shun him for it. He wasn't stupid enough to think that Kendall had masterminded some grand plan to fuck everyone over. He was a confused teenage boy, just like the rest of them. He was the same boy that taught Logan how to pull off a slapshot, the same kid who spent countless hours reclining upside down on Logan's bed while Logan pulled all night study sessions. And as much as Logan hated him for what he was doing, he couldn't force himself to believe that any of it was on purpose.

He could feel the way James had gone stiff beside him, watching Kendall and Jo, and he put a hand on his thigh, leaning in close. He could smell the manspray on James's neck, could breathe in everything that he was, and he whispered, "Let's get out of here."

James didn't say anything for a second, but then he nodded, like talking was too hard right then.

They go to the pool, dangling their feet in the water in this complete, strange silence until Logan can't take it anymore.

"Let's swim," Logan said. James's gaze darted to the pool, and Logan could practically see the thoughts running through his mind. He was thinking that the pool was his place with Kendall. He was remembering the same night that Logan was; the image of the two of them seared onto his brain.

He was thinking that fucking Logan in the pool would be sacrilegious to the memory of that night.

He was thinking that Kendall would deserve it.

Logan could see the exact second James decided to be vindictive.

They stripped down to their boxers and spent a few minutes swimming around, acting like dorks and pretending that this wasn't going anywhere. That neither of them had ulterior motives. It didn't last.

Logan was trying to dunk James under the water and get his stupid hair wet when the tables got turned. James ended up pinning Logan against the side of the pool, erection pressing between them.

"I want you," he said. His eyes were dark, but his hair was silvered by the moon and his body was golden, backlit by the pool light. He traced a line from Logan's ear to his jaw, finger dipping in the hollows of his throat and then lower, mapping the shadows of currents playing against his chest.

Beneath the surface of the water, Logan's fingers clenched into fists, because he had a perfect image of another night like this captured like a snapshot in his mind; a vivid recollection of Kendall's hair glowing like a halo, James wrapped around him like an anaconda. Logan couldn't reconcile the sharp stabbing pain of the memory, a knife in his gut, with the all consuming desire to reenact the moment, to prove that he could do it better. Want was a slow burn in his stomach, his lungs, mixed with the dizzying scents of chlorine and James, always James.

The boy who had crawled under his skin and wouldn't leave.

Logan wanted to turn to starlight, wanted to become silvered and new under the vast Hollywood sky. James's skin tasted like chlorine and sweat and a little bit like Cuda, bitter under Logan's tongue. He curled into his body, letting James's fingers trace the curve of his ass, letting him dip in while he rubbed up against James's thigh.

Water was not actually the best lubricant in the world, and even though it was easy to open Logan up against the press of James's fingers, it still burned when he pushed in, the natural sheen of pre-come already washed away. It got easier after that though, and Logan let James fuck him, back scraping against the concrete siding of the pool, nails biting half moons into the skin of James's shoulders. Logan could feel every inch of James inside of him, heated flesh against muscle. Every time James drove in harder, deeper, Logan's dick twitched with pleasure, ass tightening around James's cock, which made him growl with lust and the whole cycle repeated. James's hand shifted between them, skimming over Logan's dick in feather light touches, water squelching between the palm of his hand, bubbling out from between his fingers.

They tried to keep the noise to a minimum, but the lapping waves created by their bodies soon turned to splashing, no matter how hard they tried. Logan could feel everything, from the hair gently curling around the base of James's cock to the slap of his balls against his ass to the edge of the pool behind his head, cutting into his scalp. Logan could feel the force behind James's thighs, the muscles working from his ass to his back as he thrust into him. It was like fire sparked inside of Logan every time James moved. He wanted more of it, needed more of it, and he was rocking down onto James's dick, the buoyancy of the water making it easier for him to get some kind of control, even pinned like he was.

Logan's orgasm ripped through him like a sodium light, a brilliant flare of pleasure in which nothing else existed.

When he looked up towards the windows of their apartment, he thought he saw a face.

Logan went to ask Carlos if he could borrow a pair of his sunglasses, but he wasn't in his room. Logan found him sitting on the couch instead.

James and Kendall were locked up in James's room, writing songs. Again. Every plaintive twang of the guitar made Logan's heart twinge in time.

Not for the first time, Logan wished he could speak the very special language of music, but no matter how hard he studied the curlicue notes of a song on paper, he couldn't seem to force it to live in his chest, in his lungs. He could sing, but he could not breathe a song, and he thought maybe that was the thing that set him apart from Kendall. And if that was true, there was nothing at all that he could do about it.

He never dreamt about singing; only caring for those lungs that created such beauty.

Big Time Rush got nominated for an award. Up and coming artist.

James wanted to win. Logan hadn't actually seen him look so determined since they auditioned for Gustavo. The fierceness in his eyes was simultaneously familiar and foreign. But after it happened, Logan didn't sleep with James for a week. James spent every night locked in the room Logan shared with Kendall, and Logan couldn't, wouldn't go in there. Instead he slept in James's bed. His sheets smelled like Kendall's cologne, but Logan buried his head deeper into the folds anyway.

"Do you know where James is? I haven't seen him today," Kendall said. It was a day before the awards show, and Logan knew he wasn't telling the truth. He wasn't a very good liar. Kendall had probably woken up with James's head pillowed on his chest.

But since their last argument about James, Kendall was trying to act like nothing had even happened. Like Logan had no idea what was going on with his personal life. Logan thought about calling him out on it, thought about telling him that he knew. He didn't, because it wasn't worth it. Kendall knew better than to question Logan's intelligence, and if he thought he was fooling anybody, then he was much, much dumber than Logan had ever given him credit for. Logan just was not up for games.

"No."

"Are you sure? I just- you guys have been spending a lot of time together lately."

"Are you jealous?"

Kendall shrugged.

"Yeah. I am. I don't mean to be."

"Then why?"

"Logan- despite what you think, I don't have an explanation for everything."

"Are you going to keep fucking him?" Logan watched Kendall's face change, a myriad of emotions flashing lightning quick, one after another; so many that he couldn't catch what they all were.

"What do you think will happen if I don't?"

"This can't go on forever. James is in love with you." Saying it out loud was a stabbing pain in his lungs, in his chest, in his stomach. It made him feel vaguely nauseous, almost dizzy. "You can't just keep pity fucking him until he decides to move on to someone else. Because- that won't happen."

And saying that made his mouth go dry, black spots dance behind his eyes. Love was like an illness.

"I'm not- it isn't pity."

"It isn't just pity, you mean," he said, bitingly, and Kendall nodded, pale and small.

"It isn't just pity."

And Logan knew he wasn't being fair, because Kendall couldn't help who he loved either. He wasn't exactly notorious for making the smartest choices around, but he tried and he tried and he tried to do whatever he could to please his friends, without ever thinking of himself. Of course he loved James, in his own way.

It just wasn't the right way. It wasn't the way James deserved.

"I want to kill you for what you're doing," Logan said quietly, and the words surprised him, because he hadn't known it was true until he said it out loud. He had so much anger and resentment bubbling beneath the surface of his heart, and so much of it was directed towards Kendall, no matter how unfair that was.

He couldn't bring himself to do the right thing. He couldn't bring himself to say anything hurtful to James. And he couldn't understand why Kendall would do any of this, to either of them. So he let himself simmer, and he let himself hate the three of them.

"I know," Kendall said. He seemed sad, and more than a little helpless, but Logan couldn't bring himself to fully care. Life was supposed to be easy. You didn't lie and you didn't cheat unless you want to get lied to or cheated on. You didn't fuck over your friends unless you wanted your friends to fuck you over. This stuff was simple.

But it didn't always feel that way.

James didn't come back to his room again that night. But he stole through Logan's dreams like a thief. Logan wasn't sure if he had any love left to take, but there always seemed to be more. It was an endless wellspring in his heart.

The night of the awards show, James and Kendall got into a fight. Logan never figured out what it was about. Maybe Jo. She was Kendall's date that night, and he was looking at her in her pretty yellow dress like she was the best thing in the entire world. Kendall loved her, Logan thought, and he was glad for it. It proved that just because their love for each other had always been so strong, so inbred that it didn't make their ability to love someone outside the group any less. Which meant that even when this thing between Kendall and James and Logan inevitably crashed and burned, Logan could hold onto hope.

That's what he thought when he was feeling really dark, at least.

But the fight was good for him. James was nervous, fidgety. His hands bunched in his dress slacks, and he looked like a loud noise might make him take off like a shot. Logan could only think of one way to get him to relax. And for the first time in weeks, when Logan tried to get James's attention, he succeeded.

James was on him like a feral animal. Before they were even free of the crowd, they were kissing, tongues deep in each other's mouths, wet and hot and moaning. James shoved Logan into the last stall in the restrooms, already working on getting the front of his pants undone. And Logan just stared, unable to process, unable to get past the fact that James, in his pristine outfit- the one he'd carefully selected after two weeks of stressing about giving off the right image- was kneeling on the age-stained tile of the men's bathroom.

His hair was a mess, ruffled from Logan's fingers. His lips were bruised a deep red, a flush high in his cheeks. And he had the nerve to grin, tongue darting out to trace his bottom lip, eyes dark, before he moved forward, mouthing the shape of Logan's cock through the thin fabric of his dress slacks.

Logan was never sure what made him pull James up to his feet by his tie, undoing the knot and pulling it free. James frowned, but Logan was busy examining the silk, turning it over in his hands.

James's brow furrowed and he said in an exhalation, "Logan, what-"

Realization dawned across his features as Logan took hold of his hands, those stupid long fingered hands that drove him completely insane. Logan pulled the tie tight around James's wrists. He couldn't actually tie it for fear of James bitching about the dry cleaning bill, but he twisted the ends through, looping the tie over and over again until it was tight enough that James wouldn't be able to pull it off without help. James watched him work with intense eyes, hungry.

Logan unbuttoned the front of his suit jacket, and then his perfectly starched shirt. He licked a line along the cut of James's abdomen, fascinated by the way his muscles jumped beneath his skin. Like he was ticklish, but trying his best to hold still.

When he took James into his mouth, it was while he watched; beautiful eyes dark with lust and something Logan couldn't quite identify, his hips stuttering against Logan's ministrations. His wrists strained against the blue silk, fingers grasping at each other, but he didn't actually try to get free, and yeah, Logan decided he could work with this.

He would always remember the night of the awards show with perfect clarity.

Whenever his eyes flickered closed, he could see the figure James cut in his suit, a silhouette that would never leave him. He could feel the way James's muscles jumped in his thighs.

And if the night was just right- quiet enough, nostalgic enough- Logan would be able to hear the way James had chanted his name, a mantra, like maybe it actually meant something.

They announced the winners while Logan and James were in the restroom.

It wasn't Big Time Rush. James didn't care. He was too busy cumming down Logan's throat.

Things didn't truly go bad until six months in.

The thing was, Logan wanted James to love him, desperately. It would have been perfect, if one day James turned around and said that it was never Kendall. If he said that it was always Logan that he was really after, just like the best part of a romantic comedy.

But real life didn't work that way.

Logan was walking down the hallway towards the apartment when he saw the two of them, making out. It was this awful, intimate moment. Kendall's hands were wound tight into James's hair, and James had his arms wrapped around Kendall's waist like he wanted to pull him into his own body.

Logan stood there and watched, heart breaking.

He'd always known what he was getting himself into. But he'd avoiding thinking about it. He'd avoided the full weight of what it all meant.

He couldn't avoid it anymore.

But he wasn't strong enough to end it.

"Dude, what's your problem?" James pulled at Logan's sweater, peering over his shoulder at the textbook he was poring over.

"Nothing."

"It doesn't sound like nothing," James said dubiously. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"Logan," James wrapped his arms around Logan's waist, head resting against his collarbone, and it was so much like what he'd done to Kendall just hours before that Logan couldn't take it.

"Stop- wanting him," he yelled, the words ripping his throat raw, and he knew James could see the word love, hanging there in the air between them.

The one word Logan couldn't ever bring himself to say out loud, not to James.

But he was thinking it. He was thinking, Stop loving him. Just stop. You have to stop. Please.

"I can't," James said, and Logan felt it all the way to his bones, pain in the marrow, pain that felt like it would kill him.

And the worst part was, Logan understood.

He felt the same way about James.

Carlos was the one who ended up coming into his room, a month later. Logan hadn't ended anything with James, but he was having a bad week. He was having a bad life, at this point, but that week had been honestly hideous. Gustavo was riding him, he'd gotten a C in one of his classes, and his mom was pushing him to apply to college. And then there was the ever present problem of Kendall and James.

Logan had decided to deal with it in the most mature way he knew.

He was hiding out beneath his covers and ignoring everyone who came calling. Right up until Carlos stilled his shaking shoulders and said, "Dude. You're better than this."

"I have no idea what you mean."

Carlos sighed and settled on the bed beside him. "I mean James might think the sun revolves around him, but it doesn't. You need to get out. Get away."

Logan peeked out from beneath his comforter. "But- how am I supposed to do that? The band. I can't leave you guys."

"You can, and you will. It's time to stop clinging to our dreams and go find your own." Carlos shrugged. He gently pried the comforter from Logan's grip, slipping under the covers and snuggling into his side. Then he said, "I'm going to need a really good doctor when I become the world's best stuntman."

Logan snorted, although it kind of sounded like a sob. "Oh, god. Please, don't. There are only so many bones a person can break."

He felt Carlos's chin in the indent of his clavicle, and Logan thought that he'd missed this; missed having a friend he felt nothing more than friendship for. Friendship had its own ups and downs, its own slew of complications, but it was all so much less messy.

Which made him realize how badly he'd fucked things up with James and Kendall. He shouldn't have gotten involved. He should have run fast and far from their little drama. And now he wasn't sure if he was strong enough to do it. To walk away.

He'd never known a life without them.

"Do you think it will be better? Out there, in the world?"

"I don't know," Carlos said, "Maybe not better, or worse. Maybe just- different?"

"Different," Logan murmured, breathing in the scent of his friend's understated cologne.

"Different isn't so bad, you know. I think we could all use a change."

"But we're not going to be able to come back to all of this."

"No," Carlos agreed, "But do you really want to? We had years and years to be great. And we were."

"But we're not so much, not anymore."

"Exactly. So get out there. Find a new way to be great. It's not like any of us will stop being your friend."

"It's going to be lonely, though."

"Yeah. Probably," Carlos actually looked a little scared by the prospect, "But one day it won't be. One day, things will get better."

"I don't know if I can wait for that to happen."

"Doesn't matter. We've got no choice, Logan. And if it gets so horrible, you pick up the phone. You call me. I've always got your back."

"And I've got yours."

"Doesn't even need saying. So let's go. Big time."

Logan didn't actually end it for another few months. He thought about it, but every time he worked up enough courage for it, James was pulling him into a supply closet or his bedroom or the sound booth, his mouth hot on Logan's skin, his dick hard in his jeans.

But then he'd go right back to Kendall.

Logan was a smart kid. He understood things. He grasped every angle of what James was doing, of James's weakness and of his strength in those moments. He really understood.

Understanding didn't make it hurt any less. Because the one thing James could never explain away was why he didn't love Logan enough. Why he wanted Kendall more.

He probably didn't even know himself, if it was as simple as chemistry and attraction and clicking the right way.

James came to him on a breezy fall night when Logan was studying a medical text in the Palmwoods Park. James held his head in his hands, upset. He didn't say why. He didn't explain. He didn't have to.

For James, it was always Kendall.

"I think maybe I fucked up," James finally said, raking a hand through his hair, "I think- Kendall's never going to feel the same way, is he?"

Logan's breathing turned sharp, ragged, and he forced himself to say, "No. It's not you, James. He can't."

"Why can't he?"

And James's voice was strangled, choked with everything he felt that he wasn't saying. Logan wanted to make it stop, to make the rigid set of his shoulders and the tense line of his jaw relax. He wanted to make the pain in his eyes go away. But he didn't know how.

What was the use of being so smart if he couldn't do anything when it mattered?

"I don't know," Logan replied softly, "I don't think he does either."

He watched the curve of James's spine and wondered how much more weight the both of them could bear.

And then he said, "I can't do this anymore."

Those words. They felt like the end of days.

"Logan-"

"No. We both deserve better."

And just like that, it was over.

If there was such a thing as god or destiny or fate, Logan thought that they probably didn't give too much, that they couldn't grant too many wishes lest they be overwrought.

So the one thing they always let be true is that if people were meant to be together, they would be.

Eventually.

A/N: -ducks- Um. It really isn't a kames story. I swear. There's one more part. And. Um. I won't ruin it for you. But. Please review? And do not kill me?