He couldn't do this anymore. He just can't. He can feel the panic in his chest as he slams the door to his room, away from the noise and the arguing and the /pressure/-

Kendall Knight just shrinks into a ball as best as his 5 foot 11 frame can make against his bed as he heard similar door slamming coming from opposite sides of the apartment as the others, James, Carlos and Logan, all leave the main space where just moments ago, they were all at each other's throats. Again.

There was never this much arguing between them when they were still in Duluth, when they were still shitty, but decent hockey players, when the world didn't watch them. When the world hadn't /changed/ them.

Life used to be so simple. Ever since middle school, it had been the same. Always the same dumb and dull routine, but a good one. A working one.

They'd meet up in the morning just as the sun rose and their breath still condensed in the air to go for a jog before school, then they'd run back to each other's houses, grab their stuff, hug or kiss their parents goodbye, then meet up again to walk into school together.

Then they would hang out at lunch, between classes, in classes, have hockey practice in the afternoons, hang out in the selected house of the day instead of going home for hours before doing so when they weren't allowed to stay over and repeat. Day after day after day.

Now, /now/ it was different. They were four 17-year-old idiots who decided to form a boyband and audition to come to California and do some sweet old California dreaming while they were at it Turns out that the dream they thought they'd have turned into a nightmare rather quickly since coming out here. Only it seemed Kendall, being the lead, could see it happening while they couldn't.

The first few months had been fine, perfect even. They were making moves, taking names and doing what famous teens did which was mostly fooling around, songwriting, sleeping, studying, performing and partying. The small things were for celebrating and the big things celebrated ever harder than the smaller ones, but lately, the big things had taken over any enjoyment that could be squeezed out of the small things, especially with Gustavo on their backs to write a new album.

While 24/Seven was still in the charts and had been for a good couple of months, they were still having weekly meetings to try and get another one out for the 2014 new music season so they could go on a new tour, even though they could have just with the last album alone.

That's what had started the fighting, because it wasn't like they didn't have songs to put on the album, it was just that they weren't apparently good enough. Not songs that fit Big Time Rush's image or not boyband centric or even mainstream enough.

Most of them were good songs. Just not good songs for young teen girls.

The stress for all of it was starting to seep into the cracks that Kendall had long seen starting to form and it was busting their friendships open one strike at a time. He'd been holding them together for so long, holding himself together for so long, that he knew it would come one day when he couldn't and he'd have to let go, but he didn't want that to happen. Not yet.

He'd set himself on fire, figuratively, to stop this from happening. Giving Gustavo excuse after excuse, keeping the peace between the other boys as they started to pick under their skins a little too hard just to be joking and ribbing with each other. He'd been fighting for so long just to hold it together and now in the quiet of his room, he couldn't do it anymore.

Tonight had been the straw that broke the hockey stick, so to speak. There was shouting and accusations and arguing like monsters for hours. So out of character. So not his best friends.

He didn't know how much longer he could cope. Even Dustin, his friend who'd moved out to California for college the year after he and the others had left Minnesota and that he'd done songwriting sessions and small gigs with between albums, pulled him aside as he could see his form crumbling before his eyes more and more every time he came to play. Jo, Katie, his mother. They seemingly could see it as well, but hesitated to ask as Kendall shrugged it off so often. If they could see it as outsiders, why couldn't the fans and the boys see it that way too? He didn't know why. He'd most likely never know why.

The thought of even attempting to rectify the fight that had just gone down in any way possible so that they would be okay for the next day of meetings and brainstorming sessions made a bone-deep wariness flood into his body and he closed his eyes.

He needed a break. No, more than a break. He wanted…he needed to go. He needed to get out of here. Far, far away from here. Far from songs and music and band image and instruments and berating and fans and just…he needed to disappear. Lay low for a while.

But he couldn't just leave, could he? He could, but what of the guys? His mom? His sister? What would happen if he wasn't there? If the band couldn't defend themselves, if he couldn't get them more time? Would they lose fans? Lose their record contract?

The questions just made the hole currently opening in his chest hurt worse. It made him breathless, claws of terror he'd never really had the privilege or curse of feeling in his life, even at a major playoff game back in their hockey league.

It also made the next decision he made even easier. Grabbing a duffle bag, he just started shoving clothes and shoes and whatever else into it, his wallet following after along with his deodorant and soap before slumming it over his shoulder and storming out to stand in the living room, looking. It's silent, he's alone.

So he rants.

He lets loose and doesn't care if the neighbours, his mom and sister or anyone in the vicinity of the building - can hear him, but once he starts, after being quiet for so long and defending himself and his bandmates for so long, he's using all his voice range to just yell and scream and it leaves him a shaky mess that is red and trembling, waiting for a response that never comes before he finally gives up for once in his life and opens the front door, trudging outside and down the maze of halls into the setting sun outside.

He unlocks his car, thankful he brought his keys and shoves the bag onto the passenger side and he just backs out of the complex, taking one last look at it before he peels out of there. Dustin's a welcome presence when he finally finds himself at the guy's doorstep after hours of mindlessly driving around LA and his head's at some level of peace when he falls asleep that night, resolving that after he and Dustin hang out for the day, he'll call. He'll call them.

He doesn't know yet that it's the last time he'll see the place or his bandmates again until a pandemic shuts the world down. He doesn't know it'll be 6 years until he's confronted by James in the street or smacked over the head by Carlos or arm punched by Logan. He doesn't know that he's truly left them, not yet. So he sleeps and the world still goes round.

He's just unaware that Big Time Rush's world has finally stopped.