Hey y'all! Oh my gosh we're already in 2007 whoa. In the story, duh. Let's see, what happens?
Oh, yes, I embarrass Logan to his breaking point. And Kendall gets angry. And some other stuff happens.
This is long, so long my document won't even show me the word count.
Happy reading! Enjoy!
He has no idea why the sun has risen.
Well, that's not true, that's stupid of him to say. He knows why the sun has risen, it's because the sun has to rise in the morning. During March, the sun typically rose around 7:10.
The problem was, Logan should not have even woken up by the sunrise.
He is supposed to wake up much earlier, at 6:10. It's not 6:10, it's probably past 7:10 as well.
He's going to be late, school starts in twenty minutes, he's going to have to walk to Kendall's, the bus already left.
He's going to have to run to Kendall's.
Now.
So, he starts running.
He's always been fast, which he is grateful for. This time though, with his lateness stressing him out, he forgets to pace himself.
By the time he reaches Kendall's door, he's near collapsing, taking heaving, shallow breaths, hands on his knees. He raises his hand to knock, stumbling forward as the door is pulled open to reveal Kendall.
"Logan?" he asked, a yawn distorting his next words. "You're early. And wearing pajamas."
Logan glances down at his clothing. Kendall's right, he is wearing pajamas. He blushes, because these are his Venus pajamas.
His terribly embarrassing, much-too-comfortable, not-supposed-to-wear-at-sleepovers, not-supposed-to-wear-anywhere-because-he-was-thirteen-now (this judgment specifically was made by James, and he only listened to it because James was usually right about clothes), Venus pajamas.
He gasps for air again, speaking shakily. "I am."
Kendall raised an eyebrow. He stared for a minute, taking Logan's arm, pulling him inside. He shut the door behind them, yawning again. "Why are you wearing pajamas?"
Logan tugged at the hem of his shirt, then at the collar. It was too hot now, and Kendall kept staring at him like that, and he was still in these awful pajamas.
Logan shrugged, because that's what Kendall usually did when he did not want to answer any questions. In the case, Logan did not want to answer any questions, because he knows his reasons are stupid, and Kendall would laugh at him for it. "I don't know."
He did know. It was because he was going to be late, he was rushing, and honestly, the only thing on his mind at the time had been to get here. He was here now, and still with time to spare. He should've put real clothes on.
Instead, here he was, in his pajamas.
"You don't know?" Kendall asked. "How do you not—I mean, I guess if you were Carlos, I'd see why—but you're Logan. Were you really that tired?"
"I wasn't tired."
"Then—"
"My alarm went off late, but I don't know who changed it, because it always goes off at 6:10, and I never change it, except sometimes on the weekends, but even then, yesterday was Tuesday, so my alarm should've been working but it wasn't."
Kendall nodded. "Okay, but why are you in pajamas?"
"I—forgot."
Kendall's mouth opened, his expression mostly unreadable, but he did this a lot. He was shocked. "You—"
"I was going to be late!" Logan protested. "I was going to be late, and I would've missed school!"
"You wouldn't have been late."
Logan crossed his arms, staring up at the ceiling. He knew he was about to cry, and that was immature. And Kendall would get mad if he started crying, he would think it was stupid. He adjusted the collar on his shirt again.
"I would've!"
He started to blink faster. He would not cry in front of Kendall like this.
"Logan, you're going to wake up Mom and Katie," Kendall whispered. "Come on."
He wrapped an arm over Logan's shoulders, leading him to his bedroom. He had covered up the hole in his wall with some framed picture of flowers that used to be in his mother's room, which he didn't really like having in his room now, since it was girly and obvious he was trying to hide something, but until they could afford to fix up the wall, this would have to do.
Logan stared at the flower picture. Too quickly, he tried to lift the picture off the wall. Kendall held him back.
He opened up his closet. "What do you want to wear?"
Logan wasn't paying attention to him. He was still looking at the wall. His eyes were glistening. "I don't like your clothes."
Kendall exhaled, pushing a set of flannel shirts to the side, the flannel shirts he knew would be too big for Logan. He rifled through the closet for another minute, emerging with a purple flannel. Really, all he owned was flannel shirts. He handed his selection off to Logan, who took it, but made no move to put it on.
"Don't you have a green one?"
Kendall opened up his closet again. He had two: a dark green, and a light green, but he had already ruled both out as being too big for Logan to wear.
"I do, but you won't fit into either of them."
"How do you know? I haven't worn them."
This was a compelling argument. The shirts did look too big, but looks could be deceiving. And Logan probably wouldn't wear the purple shirt even if nothing else of Kendall's fit him properly. So, Kendall handed over the two shirts, opening up his closet for the third time in search of a pair of jeans that would fit the genius friend of his, who, honestly, was not acting like much of a genius today.
Who forgets to get dressed before they go to school?
He wouldn't have expected the answer to be Logan Mitchell, of all people, but that seemed to be the case.
"Logan, that one's too big for you," Kendall said, once Logan had allowed him to turn around.
The shirt hung loosely off Logan's shoulders, and the sleeves drooped down at least two inches, swallowing up Logan's hands. Logan had buttoned it wrong, too, but when Kendall fixed it, there wasn't much of a difference.
Logan pulled at the left sleeve, rolling it up his arm. He did the same with the right sleeve. "It's not."
It still was, but Kendall knew that to get in an argument with sleep-deprived, obviously-agitated Logan, over a shirt of all things, would be pointless. So he shrugs, and walks with Logan to the kitchen for breakfast.
His mom is tired, he can tell by the way she's barely holding on to her coffee cup. It only becomes easier to see when her jaw drops at Logan. He must look a little bit out of place there, with Kendall's flannel and his own pajamas on. It's not a very Logan-esque outfit.
She sips her coffee, her eyes shutting. "Morning, boys."
She yawns, crossing the kitchen floor to the coffee machine.
"Mom, you already made coffee," Kendall told her. "You're holding it."
She glances down at the mug in her hand. It's one of her favorite mugs, the mug with the face of the guy from those romance novels. Flavio, or Flan, or some odd name that starts with F. She lifts it up in a cheers gesture, though there's no one for her to pantomime cheers with.
Once again, Mrs. Knight glances at Logan, who isn't looking at her. "Logan?"
He tugs on the collar of Kendall's flannel. "Hi, Mrs. Knight."
She smiles at him. "Hi, honey. What are you doing here so early? We're not going to leave for at least another twenty minutes."
She's talking to Logan, but looking at Kendall. Kendall raises his eyebrows, eyes widened. He shrugs, spreading his hands out in some gesture meaning I don't know why he's wearing clothes that obviously don't fit him, I don't know what's going on with him, but I can fix it. Probably. Don't worry. You can wake up Katie.
"My alarm went off late," he replies simply.
Kendall shares another look with his mother.
They both know there's something wrong.
"How's your mom?" Kendall asks suddenly.
"She's fine."
—-
Kendall doesn't believe him.
They're sitting in the car, all three of them, Kendall, Katie and Logan as smushed in the backseat. Logan's still fidgeting with Kendall's flannel shirt, trying to cover up his neck and chest, which are half exposed as it is. The shirt is too big, but there's nothing to do about it now, they're about to pull up into the school parking lot.
Logan's wearing an old pair of Kendall's jeans, squirming around uncomfortably in his seat. His knee keeps knocking into Kendall's. He stares at the roof of the car, making small sounds.
"Logan, you good?"
"Your jeans are too tight."
That's all Logan says about that. He shuts up, save for these noises of his.
Kendall pushes open the car door as his mother parks.
"Have a good day, boys! Be nice!"
Kendall rolls his eyes, smiling nonetheless. "We'll be nice, Mom."
She pulls away once they've both gotten their backpacks out of the trunk.
He can't see too many people walking in. They're not late, not yet.
The warning bell rings. They're cutting it close, evidently.
"We're late," Logan says, shuffling his left leg into front of his right. "We're late."
Kendall stares at Logan's legs, how he's still limping—sort of? His legs are crossed tightly together, though loose enough that he can stagger forward.
"No, that was the warning bell."
"But we have to go to class!" Logan complains, really, completely, whining.
He shuts his eyes. A car honks from the highway, and they snap open.
"Logan," Kendall says, his gaze focused back on Logan's legs. "What are you walking like that for?"
Logan shakes his head, biting his lip. He whines again. "No, nothing, I'm just—we need to go inside."
"Then walk faster."
He's blinking fast, alternating between keeping his eyes open too long, or shut too long. Kendall loops his elbow through Logan's arm to steady him, to speed him up.
At the main entrance, they have to split up. Logan had to go to Algebra, and Kendall had to go to Biology. Kendall wished that Logan would;ve had biology with them, it was so boring otherwise. He shared the class with James and Carlos, and they sat together, but the problem was that they couldn't understand the information without Logan explaining it.
He makes his way into the biology lab. It's a lab day, which is sure to end up explosive, since Carlos is here, ready to go. He's more hyper than usual, he's excited. It will be a miracle if they don't blow up the classroom, and consequently expel themselves.
James is fiddling with the microscope, trying to read the instruction sheet, but really, he's trying to look at his hand through the microscope. He flexes his fingers, then pulls his hand out from under the lens, pressing his lips together as he does The Face. Wiggly jazz fingers and all.
Mostly, the class period goes well. The lab is only mildly destructive. Carlos spilled the eyedropper full of iodine, knocking off the table while the cap wasn't secure. They had to stay over a few minutes to apologize. Other than that, the lab was a success.
Kendall figured history would go as it usually did. It interested none of them. Carlos couldn't pay attention to save his life. James would be too busy staring at the new girl with red hair and a blue skirt. Kendall would be too busy trying to figure out what was going on with Logan to focus on World War I or whatever unit they were on now.
Logan hated history, but he was still diligently taking notes. Or, as diligently as he could while he fidgeted in his seat, squirming, tapping his foot.
He raised his hand. He spoke quietly, so quietly, no one could hear him. He pushed away his chair, walking in that awkward way he had been the whole day.
He exited the classroom, then, shortly after, they could see him through the windows. He was walking to the gymnasium in the other building. He was outside on the path, still walking stiffly. Then, he's right outside the other.
He's pulling on the door handle, but it's locked. Usually nobody goes to the gym for classes until the middle of the day, and no one goes in for sports until after school.
"Why's Logan all the way over there? What's he doing?" Carlos whispered to Kendall.
"I don't know."
He really didn't, Logan had been acting so strangely today, he had no idea what was going on.
The three of them watch as Logan pulls on the door handle one final time, before trudging back down the path to their classroom.
Kendall doesn't realize that the teacher is gone, probably went to go get something off the copy machine, until some kid stands up, snickering to his gaggle of friends.
Logan is about to walk into the main building again. He's walking down the hallway. He's right outside the open classroom door. But then this snickering kid and his friends shut the door and lock it.
Before he can get up, Carlos holds him back, jumping on top of him, hanging off his neck.
"Get off, Carlos."
"Not unless you promise to sit down. James can talk to the guy, he'll open the door, and—"
James opened the door.
Kendall shoves Carlos off him, though it doesn't matter, since they're both rushing over to Logan. Logan is crying, his face pale as he registers all of the people who have seen him like this.
"Kendall." James deadpans.
"Carlos, wait for the teacher to come back. Tell her we went to the nurse."
Carlos nods, but frowns. "But then—"
"Come up after you tell her."
Carlos nods more firmly this time. "Okay."
Kendall kicks the door shut, standing over Logan. James is on the opposite side, checking to make sure the hallway is empty. It is, all the classes have been in session for a few minutes now.
"Kendall," James repeats. "Aren't those—"
"Yeah. Help me get him up."
James grimaced. "I don't want to touch—"
"Fine. Switch sides."
Kendall and James switch sides, with Kendall positioned at Logan's feet, and James at Logan's arms.
Logan's too shocked to do anything. He was crying before, but now he's just shutting his eyes. He flinches away when James reaches out, and starts crying again as Kendall grabs his legs.
"It's fine, Logan."
What Kendall really wants to say is why didn't you say anything?
He knew Logan had been uncomfortable this morning. He had been so focused on leaving, this probably happened for the same reason he forgot to put on clothes for school. He just forgot. And then he remembered too late.
Kendall should've noticed. Logan was walking weirdly the whole day. His legs were crossed.
There was no need for that anymore, he didn't need to walk strangely with his legs crossed anymore.
He didn't need to walk at all, so Kendall and James carry him up to the nurse's office, who regards them with a shocked look as they lay him down on the one cot in the room.
The nurse, recovering from her shock, stands up and immediately begins pulling out bins from the lost and found. She pulls out a new shirt and pants, handing them to Kendall, who hands them to James, who hands them to Logan.
Logan keeps his eyes shut the entire time it takes for him to walk from the cot to the in-office bathroom.
—
Kendall knows he shouldn't. But he wants to, he needs to. And anyway, he doesn't have Carlos in his class during the third period. He does, however, have this kid that locked the door.
The third period bell rings, everyone is casually taking their seats. Only Kendall, this kid, Debbie Crawford, and this kid's friends saw what had happened second period. Everyone else didn't know yet. They would soon, but not before Kendall took action.
If Kendall took action now, no one would talk about it.
No one would dare talk about it.
Logan was still in the nurse's office. There was no way he would hear this from all the way across the school. Carlos was in art class, right across from the nurse, and James was in gym class, in a different building entirely. None of them would hear, none of them would know.
So, Kendall lets his anger take over.
It's too easy, the way this kid is grinning and whispering rumors to the girl in front of him. She covers her mouth with her hand, stifling a laugh. Kendall would punch a girl if he was allowed, but he wasn't.
So he settles for punching the guy.
He can hear people screaming around him. There's a group of voices he recognizes from the hockey team shouting fight, fight, fight. The teacher is trying to pull him away, unsuccessfully.
He is called down to the principal's office within five minutes of the little 'fight' which shouldn't be counted as such, because it wasn't a fight. The other guy hardly fought him back, he wasn't strong enough.
Kendall knew it was his fault, but he honestly didn't care. All he had done was give the guy some bruises.
He could live with his own bruises. Kendall could live with giving bruises. He could live with a three week suspension.
What Kendall couldn't live with was the way his mother looked at him when she walked in.
She sank down in the chair next to him, untying her hair from a ponytail, letting it fall down to her shoulders. The school had called her right in the middle of her shift at Sherwood Diner. She had done her best to cover up her blue apron with a coat, but he could still see it peeking out.
He didn't want to look at her, he knew she was about to cry. Or, maybe she had cried on the way over. She had definitely cried, her makeup was smudged, and her cheeks were red and blotchy.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't try to get suspended."
She nodded sharply, not looking at him either, but straight ahead. "I know."
"They were laughing at Logan—and this turd, Mom, he was going to tell everyone what happened. He wa going to tell the whole school that Logan had—"
He groaned, holding his head in his hands. "Mom, Logan."
"I know."
She paused, her forehead creased in concentration or confusion. Both.
"Kendall, Logan's mom—she's not doing the best right now."
And Kendall understood. Logan's moods almost always correlated with his mom's stability.
"So, we're going to take Logan back with us. He's going to stay with us for a few days."
Kendall nodded. This was not supposed to be a reward. He was not supposed to be happy that Logan had to stay with them because his mother allegedly couldn't take care of him at the moment. But he was, because at least then, nothing else would happen to Logan. Not while they were home.
And it was better than being stuck at home with only Mrs. Majkowski next door for company.
"And you are going to get some counseling. I already spoke with the guidance counselor, and, after your suspension, you'll have mandatory sessions with her."
He would've complained, but he couldn't, because she didn't look happy about it either.
"And during your suspension, you'll be getting a job."
"Where?"
"Sherwood Grocery. I picked up the papers on my way here."
"Mom—"
"I'm not going to discuss this, Kendall."
He shut up, and sat painfully still as the principal lectured at him. He might have been asked a question, several, but he isn't really hearing anything. He tunes the conversation his mother and the principal are having out.
He follows when his mother stands up, but freezes, pressing his back against the wall, when she goes into the nurse's office to collect Logan. Logan's got a plastic bag in his hand, he's curling the plastic handles around his finger, staring ahead.
"Logan," Mrs. Knight says, her tone light, as it usually was when she talked to him.
Nothing like the way she had spoken to Kendall. Soft, sure, maybe that was the same. Only because she didn't have the energy to yell. With Kendall, she had barely been able to hide her disappointment. With Logan, she was barely hiding her sadness, her pity, but, unless she broke down crying, Logan wouldn't notice.
"Honey, you're going to stay with us for a few days."
She paused, waiting for a reaction she didn't get.
Logan didn't say anything until they had gotten in the car. He strapped the seatbelt over himself, his motions so listless, Kendall thought he might have to do it for him. Logan looked beaten, drained.
Which was only ironic because Kendall was the one who got beaten up.
He was beaten, but he wasn't drained.
It turned out that he could not live with these painful bruises he had gotten or given. He could not live with a three week suspension. He could not live with Logan, especially not when he was like this, unresponsive, practically lifeless.
Kendall could not live with the fact that he didn't know.
He did not know what was happening to Logan. He did not know how to fix him.
He did know what was happening to himself. He did not know how to fix himself either.