A/N: Ugh. This chapter was a struggle to write. I had to re-write the beginning twice and I had to cut out a bunch of stuff because I could never get it to my liking. But never fear, because chapter 10 is going very well! (Wow, I can't believe how mean I was to Logan in this chapter.) Enjoy.
Chapter 9
Isolation
Logan watched as Kendall, James, Katie, and Mrs. Knight ate dinner. The burger on Logan's plate remained untouched. He had tried to swallow a French fry, but it tasted bitter in his mouth and made his stomach queasy.
"Can you please pass the salt?" Kendall asked Mrs. Knight.
The moment he spoke, Mrs. Knight took a bite of her burger. A thick glob of ketchup oozed out from between the bun and the patty, sticking to her hands. "Oops," she said, fumbling for a napkin. "James, will you hand him the salt?"
Logan observed the conversation intently.
James stopped mid-chew. He sneaked a glance at the salt shaker sitting between his plate and Mrs. Knight's, then averted his gaze back to his food. He continued chewing.
"James?" said Mrs. Knight, wondering if he had heard her.
Without looking up, James's hand shot out to seize the salt shaker. He slid it across the table, not even watching to see where it ended up, which happened to be colliding into the edge of Kendall's plate, creating a sharp tink.
Kendall glared, though James refused to meet his eyes. Logan knew the only reason James had interacted with Kendall at all was because Mrs. Knight had asked him to. Otherwise, James would have let Kendall reach for the salt on his own.
Kendall silently picked up the salt shaker and sprinkled it over his fries. He replaced the shaker on the table, looked down at his plate, and popped a fry into his mouth.
Mrs. Knight eyed the two suspiciously, but said nothing. She balled her napkin up and set it on the side of her plate.
Silence.
Logan grabbed a fry and twirled it in his fingers. Making sure no one was watching, he flipped his bun off his burger and tucked the fry underneath. The process was repeated several times, until Kendall pushed back his chair.
"May I be excused?" he asked his mother.
"Sure," she said. "Bring your plate in the kitchen."
He did as he was told before heading towards the front door. Before Mrs. Knight could ask where he was going, it was slammed shut.
"Can I excused, too?" Logan wondered.
Mrs. Knight sighed before glancing at his plate. "Sweetie, aren't you hungry?"
Logan twiddled his thumbs underneath the table. "No."
"You need to eat. Have something before you leave, okay?"
Logan's stomach flip-flopped at just the thought of swallowing a greasy bite of hamburger. "I, uh, I ate some fries," he lied, pointing to his plate.
Mrs. Knight pursed her lips, thinking.
"I'll probably be hungry later," Logan assured. "I'll eat something before I go to bed."
He must have been convincing enough, because Mrs. Knight exhaled loudly and said, "Alright. Go set your plate in the kitchen, then."
"Thank you," Logan murmured, leaving Kendall's mother, James, and Katie at the table. He placed his plate on the counter by the sink, then retreated to his bedroom.
Logan pressed his back against the door until he heard it latch. He ran a hand through his hair, closing his eyes. He hated eating meals together. Not only did it feel wrong without Carlos, but Logan had a secret to keep: he had absolutely no appetite.
The Garcias were still at the hospital, so at least there were two less possible witnesses to catch him in the act of hiding his French fries in his hamburger. Because of his interest in the medical field, Logan knew that skipping meals wasn't healthy, especially since he hadn't eaten a thing since yesterday.
But he couldn't let anyone know. Everyone was worried enough the way it was.
Logan moved away from his door and plopped down on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He wished he could close his eyes and fall asleep. But even that was impossible.
He estimated he had gotten three hours of sleep in the time since the accident until now. The night before, Logan had tossed and turned relentlessly until he finally gave up and skimmed the dictionary for five hours, figuring it would make him sleepy. It didn't.
He rubbed at his eyes. He wouldn't get any rest tonight, either. He was sure of it. Not if he kept thinking about James and Kendall.
The two hadn't spoken since leaving Rocque Records. In fact, Logan didn't think they even looked at each other. It pained him to see Kendall and James acting like that. Best friends weren't supposed to fight.
James had developed an ugly purple bruise on the underside of his chin where Kendall had struck him. He had spent fifteen minutes in the bathroom caking makeup on his skin in order to disguise the mark.
But the way Logan saw it, Kendall's retaliation was necessary. If Kendall hadn't have acted in self defense, James would have started punching. Logan saw the crazed look in James's eyes and knew immediately that the situation was going to get violent. Logan just wished he had been able to stop the fight sooner. Seeing the two go at each other like that was frightening.
Though what upset Logan more was the fact that everyone was changing. Kendall wasn't the same. He was definitely hiding his true reasons for not wanting to see Carlos, but Logan still couldn't figure out what. And James certainly wasn't acting normal, either. Logan never once thought of James as being the type to intentionally hurt his friends. But, obviously, Logan was mistaken.
There was a light knock on his bedroom door, snapping Logan out of his thoughts. He lifted his head. "Come in."
The doorknob twisted and Katie entered slowly. "Hey," she said.
Logan pulled himself upright as Katie gently shut the door behind her. "Hey."
"Can I talk to you a sec?" she asked.
Logan scratched the back of his head, feeling a little nervous. "Yeah, sure."
Katie ventured forward, lowering herself on the edge of Logan's bed. "So what's up with Kendall and James?"
Logan was unsure of how to respond. He didn't want to upset Katie by telling her James and Kendall had gotten in a violent fight and weren't speaking. But he didn't want to lie to her, either. "Well," he sighed. Then he cleared his throat, stalling for time to think of an answer as Katie patiently waited. "Kendall and James have, um, gotten into a dispute… of sorts."
Katie nodded slowly. "So they had a fight?"
Logan avoided her eyes and said nothing.
"It's bad, isn't it?" Her voice was low.
He sighed, scooting across the bed to sit beside her. "Yeah, Katie, I think it's pretty bad," he whispered.
Katie groaned and rose to her feet. "Well, aren't you going to go talk to them?" she asked, holding her hands out at her sides. "Try to get them to stop hating each other?"
Logan shrugged. "I guess I thought I'd wait till morning, you know? Maybe this will all blow over by then."
Katie rolled her eyes. "They haven't said one word to each other since you guys got home. And they didn't even look at each other at dinner. Call me crazy, but I think it's going to take more than a day for this to 'blow over'."
She was right, Logan knew. But the truth was, he didn't want to confront James or Kendall in fear of them getting angry again. The last thing Logan needed was to jeopardize his own friendship with the two.
"I'll talk to them in the morning," he said. "Promise." There. Now he had to do it.
Katie didn't move. Her arms were crossed over her chest, eyes downcast.
"Okay?" said Logan.
She looked up and shrugged. "Okay."
Kendall returned from where ever he had been hours later. James stayed in his room for most of the evening. They never even came in contact with each other.
Logan had tried to read a book to pass the time, but he couldn't concentrate. Then he was invited to play a videogame with Katie, but just could not get into it. Eventually he went to his bedroom and declared he was going to sleep early.
But he wouldn't sleep. He never could sleep.
Logan changed into pajamas and laid sprawled out on his bed, clutching his pillow. He watched as the alarm clock ticked to 9:30, then 9:45, then 10:00.
Logan sighed loudly and rolled over on his back, bored. Remembering the dictionary he had read the night before, Logan reached down and picked it up from the floor by the side of his bed.
Hours passed, and midnight arrived. Logan was reading the definition of 'faradize' when he realized he was thirsty.
He threw his legs over the side of his bed and rose to his feet. The rush of blood to his head clouded his vision with black spots for a moment before he blinked them away and started quietly for the door.
Logan entered the hall and stopped. It was midnight, and everyone should have been asleep. But through the darkness of the hall emerged a dim glow, coming somewhere from the left. He turned his head towards the living room. Muffled voices could be heard.
Forgetting about his thirst, Logan decided instead to investigate the voices. He crept soundlessly through the hall, making sure not to step on any squeaky floor boards. He could now make out the voices as Mrs. Knight's, Mr. Garcia's, and Mrs. Garcia's. Logan hadn't heard them come home. Was something wrong?
He progressed within earshot.
"Could we please speak with you for a moment?"
Logan froze, straining his ears to hear Mrs. Garcia's voice. He peeked around the corner to get a look at the adults in the room.
"Of course," Mrs. Knight replied, guiding Mrs. Garcia into a chair. Mr. Garcia stood behind his wife with both hands on her shoulders.
Logan slowly and quietly maneuvered to the side, pressing his back against the wall in the hallway. The darkness concealed him nicely.
"We just want to thank you," said Mr. Garcia, "for everything you have done for our family. We are truly grateful."
Mrs. Knight put a hand over her heart. "It is absolutely no trouble at all," she assured.
"Thank you," Mr. Garcia repeated.
Mrs. Garcia sniffled and reached for a tissue on the coffee table. "We need to ask your opinion about something."
"What is it?" wondered Mrs. Knight.
Logan held his breath, sensing the nervousness in the adults' voices.
"As you know," Mrs. Garcia explained, "Carlos hasn't shown any signs of… getting better." She could hardly choke the words out.
Mr. Garcia took over. "If not for that machine, our son would be dead." He stopped, took a deep breath, and continued. "We can't allow him to keep living like that forever. That is not a life at all."
Logan clapped a hand over his mouth to keep himself from emitting a squeak. His brain screamed at him to leave, to retreat back to his bedroom and lock the door. But his feet disobeyed, keeping him firmly planted to the ground as frightened tears welled in his eyes.
"I understand," said Mrs. Knight, voice so quiet that Logan could hardly make it out.
"What would you do?" asked Mrs. Garcia, beginning to cry. "Would you let him go? Or would you give it more time?"
There was a pause. Logan's heart pounded so loudly in his chest that he wondered if the adults could hear it. Hand still clamped tightly over his mouth, Logan's body began to shake with fear.
"I guess I'm not sure," Mrs. Knight finally answered.
"What if it was your son?" Mrs. Garcia pressed. "Then what would you do?"
There was a tiny chuckle from Kendall's mother. "Oh, trust me. All those boys have been accepted as my own." She sighed, becoming serious. "I guess if you really want my opinion, I'll give it to you: I'd wait. I'm not sure how long, but it only has been a few days. Maybe a miracle will happen."
"We pray for one every night," Mr. Garcia said softly.
Logan turned away. He didn't want to hear any more.
As quietly as he could, he hurried back to his bedroom and closed the door. Keeping the light off, he smacked the dictionary away and flopped himself on his bed. He pressed his face into his pillow as small sobs forced their way out of his throat.
Logan wasn't sure how much more he could take.
The days passed slowly. Thursday marked day six since the accident, and day three of Kendall and James's persisting silence toward each other. It broke Logan's heart.
He had tried to speak with Kendall, like he had promised Katie, but Kendall said he had nothing to say to James. When Logan pressed on, Kendall snapped at him and told him to drop it. Not wanting to anger his friend any more, Logan obeyed.
Logan then figured talking with James would be useless, so he didn't even bother.
It had become a daily routine to wake up, get ready, drive to the hospital to visit Carlos, go back to the apartment for lunch (which Logan still couldn't eat), and spend the rest of the afternoon in isolation. Kendall, of course, never rode with to go to the hospital, much to James's dismay. But Logan was actually thankful, in a way, that Kendall didn't go. It gave Logan a chance to spend some time with James. He missed hearing his friend's voice around the house.
Logan had decided not to tell his friends about the conversation he had eavesdropped on several nights prior. If the adults were talking in private, then it was most likely supposed to be kept that way. But every day that passed had Logan absorbed in a new fear: the fear that the Garcias would announce the termination of Carlos's life support.
Logan shuddered and rolled over on his bed, rubbing at his eyes. He had managed to fall asleep for about a half hour. And he may have slept longer, but it was time to get moving for the day.
He rose to his feet slowly, neck and back sore and achy. His head throbbed and his skin was clammy.
"Woah," he gasped, losing his balance as he stood. He fumbled for something to hold onto, eventually reaching for his bedside table. Logan took a deep breath. His legs felt weak and useless.
Figuring he needed to walk it off, he took his time and crossed his room, making his way to his closet to change out of his pajamas and into some normal clothes. He gritted his teeth together as he struggled to put his hands over his head. Why did his muscles feel so frail all of a sudden?
Logan managed to get a t-shirt on and slip into a pair of jeans. When he entered the main room of apartment 2J, he was surprised to see Kendall already up for the day. Kendall was seated on the orange couch, watching TV.
Logan had so many things on his mind, and he just wanted to talk. He needed some interaction with his friends. Needed to hear their voices.
"Kendall."
The blond slowly turned around and gave an acknowledging nod.
Logan approached his friend. "Kendall, can we talk?"
The TV was clicked off, and Kendall rose to his feet. "Look, Logan, I told you. I don't want to talk about James right now, okay? If he's going to keep acting like a jerk, then I don't want to be around him."
"Okay, but… I just want to talk," Logan murmured.
Kendall's features relaxed a bit, and he reached out, putting a hand on Logan's shoulder. The touch was comforting. "I'm sorry. But I don't want to talk right now, alright?"
Before Logan had a chance to plead with him some more, Kendall was walking towards the front door. "I'm going to go find Jo, okay? Tell my mom if she's wondering."
He hadn't been gone for more than two seconds when James entered from the hall, dressed in his pajamas. He strode across the room, heading towards the bathroom.
"James, wait," said Logan, stepping in front of him. He was desperate. "James, please, I don't want to talk about Kendall and I don't want to talk about Carlos. I just want to talk. Please?"
James raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"
"Talk to me. I won't bother you about Kendall, I promise. And I won't mention Carlos, either, if you don't want me to." Logan was practically begging. "Just talk with me, okay?"
James yawned and lazily scratched his head. "What do you want to talk about?"
"Just… I don't know. Stuff."
Logan hadn't realized James had a bundle of clothes in his hands until he held them up. "Well, can it wait? I'm gonna take a shower."
Logan felt his heart drop to his feet. "Can't your shower wait?" he asked.
James let out a laugh. "Yeah, right. And let all the hot nurses at the hospital see me all dirty and gross? Pfft." He brushed past Logan and entered the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Logan stood still, listening for the water to start running.
When it did, he lowered himself in a kitchen chair, tears clouding his vision. He just wanted to talk.
Friday morning. One week since the accident. Seven days of getting an estimated total of eight hours of sleep. Four days of Kendall and James avoiding each other. Four days of hiding secrets.
Logan could barely get out of bed. He hadn't slept at all. Countless thoughts and worries invaded his mind, as well as the remembrance that today was the day Gustavo was sending Big Time Rush's song off to Griffin. It was just another thing to add to Logan's mental list of troubles. Every minute that passed had him thinking about either his job, his lack of sleep and lack of appetite, Carlos, Kendall and James, the conversation about ending Carlos's life support, and how much he missed the contact with his friends. It was exhausting.
Logan had taken his pajama shirt off during the night after randomly breaking into a sweat. Every muscle felt weak and achy, his throat was dry and scratchy, and his head ached worse than he had ever felt before.
Logan groaned as he slowly and painfully pulled himself upright. Something was wrong. He knew it immediately.
Despite that knowledge, he tried to stand. It was a foolish move. His legs buckled from beneath him and he crumpled to the floor, letting out a tiny cry. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them. It took a full three seconds before his vision reverted to normal and he no longer saw double.
Panting, he ran a hand through his hair and used the edge of his bed to yank himself back up. He stopped as a wave of nausea ripped through his body. Logan clutched a hand to his stomach and waited for the feeling to pass.
When he finally straightened himself up, his forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat. Logan gulped and wiped it away with the back of his hand. He glanced at the clock. He had to get ready. They would be leaving to see Carlos in a couple hours.
Grabbing some clothes from his closet, Logan opened the door to his room and shuffled groggily down the hall. Perhaps a shower would make him feel better. Showers always made him feel better.
Mrs. Knight was watching TV in the living room and James was at the table eating a bowl of cereal. "Good morning, Logan," she said as he dragged past.
"Morning," he murmured. There was a time he considered talking with Mrs. Knight, but if the Garcias were discussing their son's situation with her, Logan figured Mrs. Knight had just as much stuff to worry about. He didn't want to burden her with his problems.
Logan finally entered the bathroom and tossed his clothes on the floor. With creaky arms, he undressed and pulled back the shower curtain.
He turned the knob, sticking one hand in the running water as he adjusted it to his liking. When he stepped inside and drew the curtain shut, the soothing spray immediately calmed his shaking muscles. He sighed contentedly, rubbing both hands over his hair.
Logan reached for a bar of soap and began to run it over his arms. His skin was already reddening from the temperature of the shower. Logan took a deep breath. His head was beginning to feel weightless on his shoulders, and the hot water was probably not helping his situation.
He used slippery fingers to twist the knob to the side. The water cooled just a bit, and for a moment he stood still, watching soapy bubbles swirl down the drain.
The lightheadedness he felt didn't seem to ease. Frowning, Logan considerably lowered the temperature until it was only lukewarm. He took the bar of soap in his hands once again and swiped it over his chest and legs. After he replaced it on the tray, he brought his hands up to his face and scrubbed, feeling the dirt and grime sweep away.
Logan's head was becoming more difficult to ignore. He found himself fighting off another round of nausea as he reached down to seize a shampoo bottle.
Black spots began to dot his vision, and he gasped. The bottle clattered to the floor of the shower. Logan joined it a moment later, one knee giving out and pressing into the spongy bathmat. He tightly shut his eyes shut and sucked in a mouthful of air. He began to tilt to the side.
With the water still running, Logan succumbed to blackness, his body collapsing in the tub.
