Hey y'all! New chapter! It's summer, and the boys are briefly sojourning in Kendall's room before they go outside. And, well. Kendall has anger issues. Also, who's excited for the Big Time Rush announcement tomorrow? I know I am.
If the announcement isn't a new song, concert, tour, or revival, then it better be that Kendall is shaving his mustache.
Happy reading! Enjoy!
In retrospect, tacking up some flimsy poster to cover what had happened to his wall back in April, was a bad idea.
For one thing, it was a cheap Boyquake poster he had found at the dollar store.
"You don't like Boyquake," Logan said simply as he walked in, taking a seat on Kendall's bed. It was unmade, so he stood, made it up, and sat down again.
"Yeah," he had agreed absentmindedly. Not forgetting Logan's tendency to ask questions, but hoping he could avoid it.
He could not.
"So then why do you have a Boyquake poster?"
"Because…"
And then James and Carlos saved him from answering, because they were busting through the door, holding each other in headlocks.
Except they didn't really save him at all.
This is obvious after James and Carlos had gotten into a wrestling match on the floor, rolling around, kicking, punching. James was stronger, he kicked the bottom half of the poster away.
The wall that was exposed looked fine. Plus, James and Carlos weren't paying attention to how Kendall's breath hitched, how his body tensed. Logan, right next to him, couldn't notice either. There was nothing to worry about yet.
This situation changed when Carlos's arms, flailing wildly, swiped down the top half of the poster.
There was the hole that he had punched in the wall that April.
He had punched that same spot before, last year.
He really needed to pick a new spot.
The new discovery of this hole stops the fight. Kendall can feel Logan's eyes on him in particular. James and Carlos are staring at the hole.
"Did you crash into your wall?" Carlos asked. "Remember when I did that?"
Kendall did. Carlos had been grounded for a week, except, the catch was, he was confined to his backyard. He was too destructive that week to be allowed inside. It was a few summers ago. If Kendall remembered properly, other than running through his wall, he had broken the banister trying to sled down his stairs like they did in movies.
"The hole's too small," James said. "When you crashed through your bedroom wall, it was huge."
Carlos definitely could not have covered that up with a poster. He tried to use a blanket instead, but he accidentally leaned too far back when his mother went to question him. And he blew it, falling through the wall once again.
Logan hasn't said anything. He's squinting at the hole, then at Kendall's fist. Kendall didn't know if Logan could mentally measure things, but if he could, he was screwed.
The door opened. Now he was infinitely more screwed.
Logan was one thing, but his mother? Kendall braced himself.
"Kendall," they said together.
They were both silent for a second, deciding who would get mad first.
Unsurprisingly, Logan backed down, shutting up. He started twisting his hands together, focusing his stare anywhere but the wall.
"Kendall," his mother started, her voice low. He was caught.
"Mom, it's not—"
What was he supposed to say?
Not what it looks like? It looks like he punched a hole in his wall. Which he did.
Not his fault? Who else would have punched the wall? It was his bedroom.
Not a big deal? Well, that was true. It wasn't a big deal. It had happened months ago, and he wasn't angry about it anymore. Not angry enough to punch his wall ao. And it did look worse than it really was, since he had punched the same spot twice. The wall was weaker there.
He had settled on his argument. "It's not a big deal."
His mother's facial expression did not agree. Her arms crossed over her chest, her head lowered, eyes glaring.
"Boys," her face betraying her soft tone of voice, "go outside. You can't stay in here all day when it's this nice out."
She frowns, nobody has made any intention of moving yet.
"We have water balloons."
That sends James and Carlos out the door quickly. With Logan, he looks at the wall, then at Kendall again. Without any warning, Logan takes Kendall's wrist, leading him closer to the wall, fitting his fist right into the hole. He drops it. He's come to a conclusion.
"Why did you punch the wall? Didn't it hurt?"
It hurt a lot, now that he thought about it. It was a raging, searing paint that traveled up his whole arm. But he shakes his head.
"No," he says.
Logan obviously doesn't believe him, grabbing his fist again, inspecting it, rotating it at different angles. He moves Kendall's fingers, watching his face for any signs of pain. There are none, it was months ago. Kendall pulls free from Logan's grip.
"Go outside," he tells him, pushing him lightly in the direction of his open bedroom door. "And make sure you soak James's head for me."
It was James's fight with Carlos that started all this. He deserved it. Plus, it was always funny how James reacted when his hair got messed up. He would probably hear him shrieking any minute now.
"Okay," Logan replied, hesitant.
He shuts the door behind him. The rest of the poster falls off the wall.
—
With the door closed, Kendall sits down beside his mother. She's looking up at the hole in the wall, too.
"It's really not a big deal," Kendall tries to say again, quieter than before.
He regrets punching the wall, but only because she's worrying about it. She doesn't need to worry, because, other than the whole hole-in-the-wall situation, he's handling his anger fine. He hasn't blown up in front of his friends, or Katie, or her. It shouldn't matter, then, if he's not hurting anyone.
"Honey, if you need to talk to someone, I'm sure I could ask Joanna—"
"A therapist? Mom, I don't need a therapist."
"Just for recommendations."
"I'm not like Logan's mom."
His mother got up from the bed, kneeling down to collect the ripped shreds of the poster on the floor. She crumples each shred into a ball, tossing it into the garbage can tucked away in the corner of the room, piece by piece.
"I didn't say you were, sweetheart. But I don't think it would be a bad idea."
Kendall knelt down to help her pick up the rest of the disfigured poster. It looks better all ripped up, anyway. The members of Boyquake definitely did not have the faces to belong on a poster.
"It is."
"Logan sees someone too, you know."
"That's because Logan has a meltdown every five seconds. I'm not like Logan, I don't need to 'see someone' like he does."
And Kendall has tried to figure out why Logan is like this, but he just doesn't know.
He kicks over the garbage can accidentally, the contents spilling out. His mother stands up, she's not going to help him. He begins to fill up the garbage can by himself, hissing in pain, he wasn't paying attention, he moved too fast, his finger is bleeding, a fresh paper cut.
"Kendall Donald Knight."
"I didn't mean it!"
He didn't, not really. But, at the same time, he'd rather not explain himself.
He'd rather not explain that out of all the problems that have befallen his friends before, this is by far the worst one. He doesn't have a plan to fix it, he should, but he doesn't. He's the leader, he's the plan-maker, they all rely on him. Logan relies on him.
That should be enough incentive to fix the problem, but it's not incentive that Kendall is lacking.
It's a solution. The solution will not come from explaining his anger to his mother.
So he runs outside before she can stop him.
—
The bucket full of water balloons is half empty by the time Kendall has a chance to look at it.
James is soaked, but unfortunately, no one has lobbed a water balloon at his head yet. His hair is still relatively dry.
Carlos is soaked, too, wasting all the water balloons with his poor aim. Kendall can tell he's trying to nail James in the face with one, but he's not very coordinated when it comes to throwing slippery water balloons. They keep slipping out of his hands, popping on the ground, splashing him instead.
Logan is dry. He hasn't touched a single water balloon.
Kendall throws one at him to get his attention. Logan jumps back, cringing when the balloon bursts, drenching him. He glares.
At least he's gotten his attention.
"I thought I told you to soak James."
"I think Carlos is doing a good job on his own."
Currently, Carlos was stumbling around the yard, five water balloons cradled to his chest. He trips, they splatter all over him.
"Really?"
When Logan doesn't answer, Kendall pushes him towards the bucket of balloons. The few balloons left are floating in a substantial amount of freezing water.
"Logan, take the extra balloons out."
Logan complies, three in his hands. "Do you want me to throw them? At you?"
Kendall rolls his eyes. "You can try."
Logan throws the first one. Kendall ducks. The second one bounces to the ground, popping promptly. The third one, however, hits him square in the face. He spits, wiping his eyes.
"I'm getting you back for that."
Logan laughs, so much so that it's nearly cackling. "You can try."
He's mocking him, clearly. Logan's got a particular talent for mimicking his tone, which is surprising, since he's not very good at having tone. But this impersonation is quite good.
To serve as a response, Kendall leads Logan closer to the bucket, now just filled with water, and dunks his head in it. Logan elbows Kendall's stomach, trying to push himself back up, but Kendall doesn't let him. He submerges Logan's head down in the water a bit further, yanking him back up by the shirt collar.
Logan shivers, coughing up water. He pulls at the hem of his shirt, twisting it, wringing it out.
"Do you still want to try?" Kendall asks, smirking at him.
Logan shakes his head. "No."
Something's wrong, Kendall's messed up somehow, but it's probably just because of the water. Logan despises getting his clothes wet. Which, Kendall should've taken into consideration. Logan looks agitated and annoyed, mildly, but Kendall can ignore it for now.
He lifts up the water bucket. "Logan, come here."
He does, silently. He walks over slowly, staring down at the sloshing water.
"I'm not going to dump it on you, I promise. We're dumping it on James."
"Okay."
They are in the middle of lifting up the bucket. They're so close, they've lifted it up, angled perfectly above James's head.
It's ruined.
"Kendall, you have a paper cut," Logan says, forgetting about the bucket. He's about to let go completely and rush to Kendall's side.
"Logan, don't drop the bucket. Hold it."
The redirection is successful. Logan re-secures his grip, but he's distracted. "Your hand is bleeding."
"I'm fine."
Logan steps forward, the water splashing out the other side of the bucket, onto Kendall.
"Hold it."
"You need to bandage your cut!"
The element of surprise is diminished when Carlos stops trying to assault Jamesa with water balloons, looking up at the commotion a few feet away. The element of surprise is completely lost when James turns.
He turns, colliding with Kendall, who is backed up, knocking into the bucket. He loses his grip on it, and the whole thing spills over Logan.
He had promised. The promise was broken.
Logan shivers, completely drenched. Kendall waves his hand at Carlos, motioning for him to go inside and get a towel. The boy runs off.
Kendall is expecting a meltdown from Logan, watching his face closely. He doesn't get what he expects.
Instead, Logan grabs his wrist, pulling him to the door. He wraps his free hand around the door handle and pulls. This door needed to be pushed open. Logan pulled again.
Kendall grabbed his shoulder, holding him in place. "It's a push door, Logan. And you're all wet, you can't go inside like that."
Logan tried to shrug out from Kendall's touch, but ended up stumbling forward instead. Kendall caught him, tightening his grip.
"But I need to treat your cut."
"I'm okay."
Logan did not agree. He tried to push away Kendall's hand again. It didn't budge. "But your arm is bleeding!"
Kendall peered through the window, spotting Carlos heading towards the door with a towel. He knocked on the window. Carlos perked up at the sound, unsure of its exact location. Kendall knocked again. Carlos faced him.
First-aid kit, he mouthed. Carlos raised an eyebrow. Kendall held up his bloody arm as a response.
Finally, he understood. Within the next minute, he had both the towel and first aid kit in his hands. He pushed open the door, Kendall pulled Logan backwards so he didn't knock into it.
Carlos handed off the towel and first aid kit to Kendall, who accepted both with grateful hands.
"Is your arm okay?" Carlos whispered to him.
Kendall nodded. "Yeah."
"Carlos, get out of the way. I have to fix his arm," Logan muttered.
Kendall almost laughed, how was Logan supposed to bandage him up if he was facing the wrong way? But he didn't laugh, only turned him in the correct direction so they were facing each other.
Logan rifled through the kit, laying everything out in front of him. He worked in a methodical, calculated process. Kendall wasn't exactly paying attention to him. He only winced when Logan applied Neosporin to the infected area, covering it with a bandage.
Logan was mostly silent, not even telling Kendall to move his arm. He made most of the physical adjustments himself. He was so focused, he didn't have the need or function for conversation.
Later, though, Logan had moved on from bandaging up Kendall's small paper cut, and was examining his fist from earlier. He took each finger, one by one, and squeezed it, with varying pressure.
Kendall tore his hand away. "Logan, what are you doing?"
The genius reached for Kendall's hand again, wordlessly. Kendall gave in.
"You shouldn't have punched the wall. You would have broken your hand."
"Did I?"
"No."
Kendall shrugged, flashing an easy grin at his friend. Logan was concentrating too hard to notice. "See? Then it doesn't matter."
Logan squeezed Kendall's fist again. He winced. "Ow!"
"So, it still hurts."
"Only because you squeezed it like that."
"Why'd you do it? It obviously hurts, why would you hurt yourself?"
"I wasn't trying to hurt myself, Logan. I was just mad."
Logan has an equally methodical process when it comes to packing. He's wrapping the gauze into a neat, tight roll. He places it down in the first aid kit, staring at him. Logan doesn't typically stare.
"What were you mad about?"
The way he asks, the way he is so oblivious, when, in every other circumstance, he's intelligent, sharp-witted, flares up a violent rage inside of Kendall. It's not Logan's fault, of course, and it's certainly not directed at Logan.
All Kendall wants is the anger to fade away.
But as long as Logan looks at him like that, with an unknowing stare, it stays.
"Nothing."