Kendall's point of view:

I'm surprised when I see Carlos sitting on the couch. After all, it's the middle of the night and I'm awake just because I'm thirsty. But the thirst disappears quickly when I notice that Carlos is crying. Worried, I go over to him and sit next to him. "Carlos, what's wrong?"

He doesn't answer.

"Why are you crying?"

He looks up at me. There is sadness and determination in his face, which on the one hand fascinates me and on the other hand worries me. He takes a deep breath and then says in a halting voice, "Because I ... Because I know my friendship with Logan will soon be over."

"What makes you think so?" I ask, confused.

"I've decided to tell him, Kendall. He should know it before it's too late."

"Too late?"

Carlos nods seriously. "At that time, when we were in the lift. His panic attack could have done something wrong! Maybe he would even have a heart attack! But I was too scared. And now something happened again! What if he had hit his head harder? He could have had a fractured skull, or worse!"

Gradually, I understand what he wants to say. "So you're afraid that something terrible will happen to him and he'll never know what you feel for him?"

He nods sadly.

"Well ... If you're really sure you want to do that, then I'm definitely there for you. You don't have to go through this alone."

He smiles. "Thank you Kendall."

I nod to him and it's quiet for a while. Then I ask curiously, "How and when do you want to tell him?"

He sighs and reaches for a few pages of paper lying on the table in front of him. I haven't noticed them so far. He holds it out to me. "Here."

I hesitate for a moment, then I take it and read it. Meanwhile, Carlos watches me nervously. When I'm done, I ask, "When do you want to give him that?"

"As soon as possible."

Carlos' point of view:

We are back in the hospital. But this time only Kendall and me. Kendall nods encouragingly. "Remember, if he's awake, we'll do it another time."

I nod and take a deep breath before knocking on the door. No Answer. Carefully I open the door, my heart is pounding and I'm feeling sick. Logan lies in bed and sleeps. Good. I nod to Kendall and then enter the room. Logan has been here for almost a week now and the doctor says he can go home soon. Quietly I go to the bed and look at him. He looks so peaceful. My gaze then wanders to a table with some bouquets and cards on it. Slowly I pull an envelope out of my pocket and put it on the table. Then I look at Logan again. "Please," I whisper softly, "please don't hate me for it." I'd like to touch him, but I resist that urge and go to the door. Once again I look at him, then I go out. Kendall comes to me. "And now?"

I sigh deeply. "Now we can only wait."

He nods, pats my shoulder and then we leave the hospital.

Logan's point of view:

The pain in my shoulder wakes me up. As I rub the sore spot, I notice it's dark. It is probably in the middle of the night. I sigh softly and wish I could go home. If I'm lucky, it only takes two or three days.

I'm trying to fall asleep again, but it's in vain. Sighing again, I turn on the light. Immediately my eyes fall on the table, whereupon all the flowers and greeting cards are. Something is different. In the middle is now a white envelope that had not been there before. I take him in the hand and open it. I find a letter in it. The handwriting seems familiar to me. Curious, I begin to read:

Hey Logan ...

I don't know how I should begin. The whole thing is incredibly difficult for me. Even harder than math, but I want you to know the truth. Even if I probably punish myself with it ...

Okay, here it comes ...

Logan, I love you.

No, that's not a joke. I know, I make a lot of jokes, but I'm serious. And even if you don't want to continue reading now, I'll continue writing anyway. So that I can explain it to you...

It started when we met for the first time. Do you remember? We were eight years old and had no idea what would happen to us later. Of course it was not love. It was more of a kind of protective instinct. But that changed with the years. It got more serious when we were fourteen, but I just couldn't understand what was wrong with me. I didn't know why I always felt so strange when you laughed or why I was always in a bad mood when you were sad. I thought it was just because we were friends. When we moved to Los Angeles, I really understood what was wrong with me. But it was already too late, because you had met Camille. But that was okay for me. My only concern was that you were happy, because as long as you were happy, I was happy too. Well, at least in the beginning. Because over time you became more and more unhappy. And that changed me too. I became jealous. But it has become clear to me that this can't continue. I don't want to hate you or Camille. I just want you to be happy, Logan. Camille makes you happy and that's a good thing, because she really loves you.

I don't know what should happen now. I just wanted you to know. And if you continue to think that's a joke, then talk to Kendall about it. I told him and Jo knows it too. And now you know it too. I don't know what you will do after reading this. But please, no matter what you want to do, please don't hate me for it, Logan. I couldn't stand that. Please don't start hating me.

I love you.

Carlos