A/N: Hay guise. Sorry about not updating Dreamscape (or this for that matter) for a bit, but I'm having a hell of a time writing… you know what. I'm doing another session of Math Camp helping and now Marching Band, which means I'm at school 9 hours a day during my summer break. And I also now have a boyfriend taking up time in my life (and quite a bit of it actually). I hope an Olympian update can tide you all over for now.
Thank you to Sup3rPanda5, Crown0017, 3395233954, LookAwaySeeTheLights, nandako671, jacobryan9, SlashLover69, Nerdy-Mochi22, JessamineLovelace, Lewkis, Sum1cooler, TidusGT, huyandhieu, Nobody Else Just Me, BadLuckGrl13, and duckduck4 for all of your reviews, faves, and alerts. I should really get into the habit of actually responding to each person individually, but it's not really a good idea to try to make that decision nowsince I have even less time than before to do stuff. Oh well. On with the story!
Disclaimers: I own only the ideas and OCs that don't do much.
Chapter VI
Two weeks had passed by quickly for Carlos. His days went on one of three schedules: either wake up, class, practice, TV, then bed, or wake up, TV, practice, class, then bed, or finally wake up, class, TV, bed. He had watched his favorite brunet gymnast win a fifth gold medal, a straight streak, and had cried tears of joy upon seeing the expression on Logan's face after winning that last event. In the meantime, it had been practice, practice, practice for the concert. Their band sounded absolutely amazing, "better than the originals" as James had described.
It was officially the day of their concert, and Carlos peeked out from behind the large black curtain that hung in front of the semi-sturdy three-tier stage. Turning around, he nervously looked at his surroundings. James was helping Dak and Aaron tune their guitars, Jett was checking wiring, the girls were placing the tambourine, bongos, and triangle in easy to access places. The microphone was standing at Carlos' preferred height, ready and waiting for him to blast his voice through to the awaiting masses on the other side. A drop of sweat rolled down the side of the Latino's face; he was worried even though everything was looking perfect. A hand clapped onto his back, causing the tan boy to squeak in surprise, quickly whirling around to see James' smiling face.
"What're you so nervous about, buddy? This is going to go great!" Carlos simply shivered in response. James watched as another bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, growing concerned. "Hey, you aren't sick, are you?" he inquired, raising the back of his hand to his friend's head only to have it quickly slapped away.
"I'm fine, just a bit nervous," the tan boy snapped. Honestly he wasn't feeling good at all. This was their hardest set of songs that they'd ever done and he was sure that while everyone else was doing perfectly fine on their parts he was going to mess up horribly and ruin everything. The Latino knew he was going to get stage fright and throw up on stage in front of all these people, which would embarrass him beyond belief. James read the expression on the quickly paling face and frowned.
"I've seen that face before, you're worried that you're gonna mess up."
"No I'm-"
"Yes you are," James sighed, interrupting his friend. "Look, last practice you sounded absolutely phenomenal, and I'm sure that there's no way even you can mess that up in only two days." The tall brunet smiled softly, rubbing Carlos' back. The Latino looked up and smiled back, trusting the same reason that his friend gave him before every concert once again. James' hand ghosted over the scar on his shoulder and the tan boy moaned happily, all doubt erased by the soothing contact, but upon noticing the unintentional noise, Carlos blushed madly, only hearing his friend laughing in response. "Now, let's get the last of everything prepared and get this party started!" James shouted, thrusting a fist into the air and smacking his roommate on the back once more. The rest of the band cheered in return, scurrying to finish tuning instruments, moving equipment, and checking connections.
Carlos beamed from ear to ear, opening his mouth to sing a few notes in preparation for his big moment of the month.
"Logan, you aren't going out today," Kendall yelled, somewhat annoyed by the brunet's persistence.
"But Kendall, I'm fine," the shorter boy fumed, crossing his large arms over his chest. The blond was trying to argue that the gymnast should stay home and rest, having only arrived home the night before and not having slept at all due to jetlag. Admittedly, the brunet was tired, but he wanted to go meet this Carlos Garcia person and have their intellectual talk… and possibly dinner and a movie too. "I don't feel tired at all!"
"Oh really, you don't?"
"No, I don't." The taller boy smirked, knowing exactly how to prove that Logan was lying.
"Then do ten handstand pushups for me." The gymnast's face paled and he drew in a sharp breath. The blond's demand made him immediately nervous; first of all, handstand pushups, which were normally easy for him, became extremely hard for the brunet to do once he became tired. Second, they were standing on a tile floor, and if he were to slip he'd crack his head open. Finally, if he refused, he knew that Kendall would see through his lie. Logan sighed loudly, moving toward the nearby carpeted area to sit down on his bright orange sofa.
"Fine. I'll stay home and rest. Happy now?" The blond smirked, knowing that he had won for once.
"Very. Now, just take a good nap, and while I know that it's probably a bad idea to leave you alone, I have some paperwork to fill out. I'll be back later to come check up on you. Do you need anything urgent?" The brunet was going to be snarky and say "a new manager" in response, but he just shut his mouth and shook his head. "Okay then, I'll see you in about four hours. Bye."
"Bye," the gymnast grumbled in response, watching the blond step out the door and hearing a car engine start half a minute later. Tousling his hair a little bit, Logan looked around at his familiar house from his position on the couch. He had missed it, but it wasn't where he wanted to be at the time; he wanted to be out and about, not confined to a building. He calmed a bit when the sound of a bell and quick, loud panting wafted through the house, and the gymnast watched as a little golden ball of fur scrambled down the stairs and over to him on the couch.
"Oh hi Poof," he leaned down and picked up the Pomeranian, placing her on his lap and running a hand through her fur. The little fuzzball circled a couple of times before lying down on his lap, legs disappearing under her body and still panting just as loudly as before with a happy look plastered to her face. "Oh Poof, I really wish Kendall wasn't such a spoil sport. He can be so annoying and boring sometimes." Logan threw his arms into the air and laid back on the orange fabric. "I mean, seriously, being confined to my house because of a little jetlag? Nonsense!" The dog looked up at him quizzically, cocking its head to the side and pulling its tongue back into its mouth. Logan smirked. He was talking (more like ranting) to a dog, but she was probably the best listener he knew. That's when an idea popped into the genius gymnast's brain. "Can you keep a secret?" he asked, watching as the dog's head tipped to the other side.
After whispering to his dog for another minute, he slowly stood and grabbed his jacket to put on over his red t-shirt even though it was eighty-seven degrees out. Stepping out the sliding glass door on the side of his small home by the beach, Logan took a single deep breath of the salty ocean air before walking over to his small black car. 'UCLA, here I come,' he thought as the engine roared to life, slipping on his favorite pair of sunglasses.
Within fifteen minutes the pale boy had managed not only reach the campus and park, but also procure a map of the institute. 'I probably broke a few traffic laws, but it was well worth it.' He looked around the area surrounding him from his point standing outside the campus' central building, noticing the very sparse number of people in the area. To his luck none of them seemed to have recognized him yet, but Logan knew that luck wouldn't last very long and he would have people tailing him as soon as someone figured it out. Pulling the picture from his wallet, the gymnast quickly walked up to a few people to ask if they had any clue where he was, but to no avail. After nine long minutes of questioning, he finally caught a lead.
"Have you seen this person?" he asked of a short and extremely tan brunet in tight workout clothing. The man raised his sunglasses, staring at the photo for a second before Logan saw his eyes light up.
"Oh yeah, that's Carlos, he's about to start performing soon outside of the Samueli School in the science courtyard. Are you a… friend o…" the brunet's speech slowed, and he leaned in closer to Logan, who shrunk back and away from the student. The boy's blue eyes soon lit up even brighter than before from realization. "Oh my god, you're Logan Mitchell!" he shouted, but his voice was suddenly muffled by a hand over his mouth.
"Shh, please, keep it down a little," the pale boy replied as hastily and quietly as possible, removing his hand and holding the collar of his jacket up a bit higher as his face turned pink. He looked around before leaning in closer, beckoning his new acquaintance closer. "I'm kinda here against the direct order of my manager, and I'd rather not have any news crew here reporting my every action right to him." The short haired boy nodded slowly, drinking in the information that Logan had just given him. He smiled softly before beginning to whisper.
"Okay, well anyways, it's so cool to meet you, and congrats on all those gold medals. So yeah, Carlos is out at the street faire and he's about to perform with his band. I was just heading over there, so I can lead you." Logan smiled at that. People were so much nicer at UCLA compared to back at the Olympics. They actually cared if he asked for them to quiet down or leave him alone. Nodding, he started to walk next to the shorter haired boy.
"Thank you for this… Uh, I never got your name."
"Oh, the name's Mitch, probably should've told you that earlier."
"It's all good, and thank you very much for the guidance Mitch. I really appreciate it." The college student simply laughed, and Logan had to admit that this guy was kind of cute as well. But he was on a mission to meet a one Carlos Garcia, and he couldn't get distracted now.
"No, thank you Mr. Mitchell. Now I can tell all of my friends that I've met an international celebrity. And would you look at that, we're here," Mitch reported, slowing to a stop as he watched Logan look around. People everywhere. He could easily get lost in the crowd here. "Well, have a good time Mr. Mitchell."
"Call me Logan." The college student's face gained a look of shock which quickly morphed into awe.
"…Cool." Mitch turned and walked off toward a different part of the area, leaving the gymnast to stare up at the large black curtain. Apparently his favorite fan was up behind there, and now he just had to wait.
Carlos looked down at his list. "Final checks- James?"
"Bass is tuned, amp is ready and raring. On your go," his roommate returned, watching the Latino put a check down.
"Dak and Aaron?"
"All three guitars are tuned, voices ready to back you up any time," Dak replied with a quick thumbs up. Another checkmark.
"Jett?"
"Drum kit is good, e-drums are plugged and ready to rock as well." Another checkmark.
"Jesi and Rachel?"
"Tam, triangle, and bongos are out and ready, violin and viola are tuned to perfection," Jesi said softly with a smile. Another checkmark.
"Lastly, Camille?"
"Keyboard is on and set to be easy to switch."
"Got that fancy fingerwork down?" Carlos raised an eyebrow at her, twirling his pen, and she just smirked back. Without looking down, she pressed a series of buttons and keys, playing out each noise that the electronic keyboard could make.
"Down pat, Sergeant Cheerful." She raised a two-fingered salute to the tan boy, and he chuckled at the creative use of her nickname as he wrote down one last checkmark. The Latino beamed widely, looking down at the list. Checks all the way down, in every spot except the last one.
'Microphone? Check,' Carlos thought, happily placing down the final mark. He turned his head up to his friends, all of who were looking at him apprehensively. Tossing the list off to the side, the tan boy stepped behind the microphone before turning to face the group. "Let's fuckin' kill this bitch," he laughed, giving everyone the final thumbs up. James, Dak, and Aaron heaved on their bass and guitars respectively, Jett sat down at the kit, Camille took her place by the piano, and Jesi and Rachel took their spots behind the percussion table. The Latino smiled into the microphone, watching the fabric in front of him rise before closing his eyes and leaning against the plastic microphone stand. 'Ready, set, go.'
Logan stood right up against the front fence that kept the crowd from storming the stage. From his vantage point, he heard the brunt of the noise that came from the somewhat small cheering crowd behind him as the large black curtain opened. He watched as the tall brunet in the back started drumming the opening to the first song, others slowly joining in. He looked to Carlos, seeing the Latino leaning against the microphone with his eyes closed and a smile on his lips. Within seconds, the smile disappeared, the brown orbs opened wide, and a velvety voice floated from the speakers as the boy opened his mouth.
"I remember the better days
Way before this mess we made.
You were the keys to the car
Now I'm just trying to make it start.
Can't you see these highs and lows
Take us down and slowly take their toll?
Misguided, I don't know
Where we're headed.
Tell me now, cause
Round, round and round we go.
And when it stops
You say you don't know.
But each time I try to stop this ride
You say it's not time.
This heart,
My dreams,
I've been taken down too far it seems.
So hold tight.
Why not let me go?
Why not let me go?"
Logan watched and listened as the other backup voices of the Latino's friends melted into the voice of his tan fan up on stage, harmonizing perfectly. He heard each beautiful echo from every instrument, the two guitars, the bass, and the keyboard all perfectly in tune with each other and the voices.
"So much I need to say
Then the truth gets in the way.
You cry me another one
And watch my words just come undone.
Can't you see these lows and highs
Tangled up separating all our ties?
Misguided I can't find
A way back in so
Maybe its goodbye.
Round, round and round we go.
And when it stops
You say you don't know.
But each time I try to stop this ride
You say it's not time.
This heart,
My dreams,
I've been taken down too far it seems.
So hold tight.
Why not let me go?
Why not let me go?
When the bottom drops out,
Then you think you got nowhere to go (in the cold).
But if you take a look around,
You could really warm it up and you know (always told you so).
Logan watched on in awe as everyone on stage worked masterfully around their instrument. Both of the guitarists were heavily absorbed by their riffs, but they still knew when to bring their heads up to sing in for backup. The tall brunet with the bass made long and simple strokes across the strings, eyes shut and lightly fluttering, and the two girls behind him danced back and forth to the beat with tambourine and bongos in hand. The girl behind the keyboard made all of the quick finger movements look easy as her hand magically waved over the keys, and the drummer behind her had sweat pouring down the sides of his head as he pounded on the kit. Last but not least was Carlos, both hands clasped to the microphone, eyes closed tight and body shivering with every heavy breath as he sang his heart out.
Round, round and round we go.
And when it stops
You say you don't know.
But each time I try to stop this ride
You say it's not time.
This heart,
My dreams,
I've been taken down too far it seems.
So hold tight.
Why not let me go?
Why not let me go?
Round, round and round we go.
When it stops
You say you don't know.
Why not let me go?
Why not let me go?
Why not let me go?
Why not let me go? Yea,
Why not let me go?
With a last resounding note, the song ended, and cheers erupted from the people watching. The Latino on stage leaned forward to place his hands on his knees, panting heavily a couple times before yelling a quick "thank you" and something along the lines of "we'll be back later" into the microphone. Logan heard the crowd burst into chatter and the clopping of heavy footsteps on cement as they dispersed, and knew that now was his time to go talk to Carlos. Dodging past a few people to get out, he ran around to the back of the stage and waited for the door to open.
"That was amazing!" Carlos screamed. His throat hurt a bit from singing still, but he ignored the pain, running straight to James and pulling his roommate into a crushing hug. The brunet simply laughed loudly as he was lifted off the ground by the overjoyed Latino. The tan boy spun in a couple circles before placing his friend back on the ground and running to congratulate everyone else. A hug for each of the girls, a high five for Dak and Aaron, and a "Dude, you're really freaking sweaty," for Jett, who just scowled back before walking out the back stage door to grab some water.
Carlos continued to chat up a storm, ignoring James trying to pull him off to get some water and refresh his voice for the next song that would be going on in less than half an hour. The only thing he didn't ignore was Jett calling him.
"Ay papi, some dude is here to see you," the actor yelled out from the stage door. The tan boy glared over at him, seeing the ever-present smirk stuck to the drama major's face.
"Well, who the hell is it?"
"Some guy named Logan." Carlos' eyes widened and he stared in disbelief at James when the answer came back. The tall brunet returned the look, but shook it away quickly and motioned for him to move toward the exit. Shocked, the Latino slowly started over toward the stage door.
A/N: Ooh, I feel mean, cliffhanger-ish thing right where you want to read more. But the actual meeting is for next chapter. I'm so devious, but not really all that devious.
Anyways, the song is "Let Me Go" by David Archuleta, which is currently one of my favorite songs and is one of the 50 that got me through a whole week with little to do in Maine, and the other song that is either in next chapter or the one after is also on that list (and is also by David… hope nobody really hates him or I guess I'd lose a couple of readers; they're just songs I like and I think his voice and Carlos' match pretty closely so I can imagine "Mr. Cheerful" singing them).
Hope you all liked the chapter, please review because as always it means a lot to me to get feedback. I'll try to be more… productive… with Dreamscape, but I realized that sex isn't easy for me to write… I admire people who can write it well, kudos to you all. So, have a good one, and I'll see you next time!