I've been listening to a lot of music lately

Kendall: So you have...alright, okay

And, it's inspired me; it's inspired me a great deal

Logan: What is she going on about?

Kendall: I...really don't-

The inspiration of music, it is truly the root of imagination

Kendall: Please stop going all 'public speaker' on us

And my imagination has developed our story

Logan: OKAY! Okay, we get it- music equals inspiration and inspiration leads to story, art...

Can you stop talking? You don't make any sense

Logan: -_-

Well, let's get to our angst, drama, romance, crime, etcetera!

Disclaimer: I do not own BTR

"What condition is that? I've been in this condition all my life. It's the only condition I know. Bitter Love, Loneliness, contempt for corruption, blind hope. It's where I live. A permanent state of bereavement. This is nothing new."

-Liir Thropp, Son of a Witch

Dreamless, I sleep soundly.

With dreams, I seem to be trapped in nothing but nightmare.

From those I awake rested, but not rested.

Dreamless, I almost forget everything.

I am I awaken by the sound of a vibrating cell phone. My eyes shoot open and I attempt to reach for the cell phone...when I remember. Kendall, at the moment, has made it near impossible for me to go anywhere. I manage to stretch my arm over Kendall to grab the phone. He stirs slightly when I shift back against the cushions. I don't even need to check the caller ID to know who it is.

"I'm sorry for being so pissy last night when you called," Jo sighs. "And you just wanted answers. Hell, I haven't even been able to tell you why I was at your hideout when Kendall freaked out."
"Hmm? Oh right, that."
"I thought Kendall was the one with short-term memory loss," she teases.

"That he does," I mumble.

"It connects to what you asked of me to tell you about Lucy's intentions," Jo admits hastily as if it is painful to confess. "I needed to talk to you then about the decision I made in choosing Lucy to help me."

I blink. "Jo; help you with what?"

"Camille, she...er, interests me. I really didn't have any need to know about Jett, I suppose. God, can't Lucy work her own deals without pulling you into it?"

"So, Camille was interesting to you so you wanted to know about her?" I confirm, not quite understanding.

"There's more than that," Jo feigns in feeble self-loathing.

"You don't want anything bad done to them? Lucy said I need to 'do something about them'," I say.

"Well then she isn't holding up to what I asked her to do," Jo replies, voice stiff.

"Jo, it may be just me; but I haven't any idea what is going on, you haven't explained much."

"I needed to know if she and Jett were together," Jo explains.

"Why would you ever care about that?"
Jo is mute for a minute or two. "I'm a lesbian, Logan."

Now it is my turn not to speak. I could've seen this coming I suppose. She never was like any other girl. Not exactly in a sexuality sense though. More like personality. Then again, we were both pretty different from the others. But...I don't recall Jo ever telling me she had a crush on someone, or that so-and-so celebrity was 'omg, soooo hot!' Maybe it was something I couldn't associate to her because at the time I was confused about my own feelings for her...if they were love or because it could be love when I wasn't even sure of my own sexuality.

But I was now. And although I vowed to myself that the secret would follow me to the grave of my miserable death...

"Logan? Are you still there?" Jo inquires apprehensively.

"Yeah," I mutter. The atmosphere grows intense as my head spins in wake of what I am to reveal. "I'm gay, too."

"Really?" Jo muses slowly. "Is... that why you don't rape?"

"No," I sigh, "I don't rape people because of you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. After that night when the guy...hurt you, I couldn't be that person. I'm a murderer, a thief, and many more things of disreputable nature; but I won't cause the pain you had to go through."

I hear a sniff on the other end. "Thanks," Jo says, her voice clotted with tears. "I guess."

"It's nothing compared to the things I've done," I acknowledge. "Just a shot in the dark, but; you like her don't you? Camille, I mean."

"Ever since we first met..."

Flashback...

I was walking to Starbucks and passed the police station. There was a dark blue mini cooper and, I know it's a pretty lame thing to notice; but I hadn't seen it there before. I always kept a camera with me for my own intentions in 'Disturbia' so I pulled it out of my purse and took a picture of the license plate. Then I walked to the side of the car and took another photo.

"Wow, usually I only find guys photographing cars; even then it's a Ferrari, not my girl," a slightly mocking voice said from behind me. I turned and saw a girl a good few years older than me. She had curled dark brown hair that stopped at her elbows. She had laughing dark eyes glinted with undercover mischief. The girl had been glad in a see-through navy blue skirt with red and white roses, deep scarlet tights, a plain white t-shit with a gray mini vest over it, and black flats. The only makeup she had was pale pink lip gloss, faint eyeliner, and a thin-barley there layer of cover up.

"I'm sorry," I said sheepishly, stuffing my camera in my bag again.

"It's okay," she laughed. "Hi, I'm Roberts. Camille more commonly actually."

"Camille Roberts," I repeated. "What's with the James Bond style intro?"

"Hardly James Bond," Camille sing-songed. "What's your name?"

"Taylor. Jo actually," I teased slightly.

"Well, Jo Taylor, what bring you here?"

"Oh, I was just passing by on my way to Starbucks."

Camille smiled warmly and I felt something flutter in my stomach. "No way," she exclaimed, "So am I!" Camille glanced at her car, then back at me. "I could use a good walk. Mind if I come with?"

I shrugged. "Yeah. I mean, sure; let's go."

As I walked with her I felt for once that I belonged somewhere in this twisted world. "So, what were you doing at the police station?" I asked.

"Confirming my work hours; I got a job as a new policewoman," Camille explained proudly.

"Congratulations," I sighed. I hoped she knew what she was getting in to.

"Both my parents were police," she said, "and my closest friend, Jett Stetson and I planned on being partners in the crime-busting work for a long time."

"Ah," I said.

"What do you do for a living?"

Help my criminal friend stay in hiding; help that same criminal friend victimize poor innocent people...just the usual stuff. "Oh, nothing, really; I need a job obviously."

"I guess," Camille said empathetically. "Did you graduate from college?"

I hardly remembered my high school days. But I wasn't about to tell her that for financial issues from the fact my parents had practically abandon me, I could not finish high school, therefore, no college. Just me, Logan, and the criminal universe.

"No," I told her. "I wish I could have." Was she staring at me? Was she disgusted? Did she think I was stupid? I wasn't about to turn and look to see the expression in her eyes.

Finally, though, Camille stated, "Well then, I guess you've taken the artist road."

I smiled, but still did not glance at her. "That's...one way to put it."

"And, you're...what? 19? 20?"

"22," I corrected.

"22," Camille repeated. "You still have time to go back to college."

Not in my case. I could never go anywhere like college. My life was better kept in the shadows. But so Camille wouldn't question me, I said, "You're right, I suppose."

"That's the spirit," Camille chirped, and right then; her voice was so sweet, so genuinely happy for a person whom she barley knew; I turned to meet her gaze. And time seemed to slow down-for me anyways- and all the people seemed to vanish. I had known I wasn't quite the same as other girls; I had come to accept that I would never be standing in a chapel one day with a preacher declaring me wife to a husband. Perhaps, someday- someday- I'd be living in New York with a beautiful girl who loved me in a way that I had never known because no one ever felt that much affection towards me; and because we'd be citizens of the city, we could be married. And I would be standing in a chapel with a preacher declaring me her partner for life. Maybe I wouldn't even need to live in another city; perhaps, by then, more states will have legalized same sex marriage.

But I hardly knew Camille.

Everything sped up once more, and I felt myself fall behind. Camille halted abruptly, and when she turned around, she was frowning. Camille ignored the people shouldering and bumping into her as she called, "What're you doing?"

"I, uh, lost me appetite," I shouted to her over the many voices around us. It was only after the words left my mouth did I realize how pathetic they sounded.

"Appetite?" Camille confirmed. She giggled and shook her head. "You don't eat coffee, Jo. Alright. Maybe I'll see you around." Camille waved before turning on her heels. I watched as she walked away and wondered what I was to do. The only thing left was to forget her.

So I went back to my apartment and plopped myself down on the couch for a draining marathon of old movies. By 1:30 I had watched: "Ferris Buller's Day Off", "The Breakfast Club", "Forrest Gump", and "The Outsiders."

And I still hadn't forgotten her.

That was predictable.

But I could give it another few days.

Things like forgetting took time. Especially when it was with someone who you were instantly attracted to. Was it love at first sight? I'll never know. But it stuck with me. Eventually I was going to go insane.

I knew I could not tell you, so I went to the second best.

Lucy Stone.

End flashback...

"So, I asked her to get a little information on Camille," Jo sighs. "I don't know how she got, 'do something bad to both cops' out of that though."

"She gave me the stolen profiles for them because, well; you know. I've been dragged into this. I still have to hold up my deal so...I'll find a way to keep Camille safe, and Jett will be hurt; problem solved," I say.

"No," Jo snaps, "Problem not solved! If you hurt Jett, then you might hurt Camille too; those two are really close...that's what she told me."

"All the more reason to get rid of him," I point out. "Get the third wheel out of the picture, you know?"

"Logan. Don't."

"Fine, I'll just make him disappear."

"Wha-?" Jo began, but stopped. "Please, Logan!"

I bite my bottom lip. Kendall rouses again and I know I have to wrap up this conversation quickly. "Alright, this is gonna throw a dent in my reputation, but for you; I'll hold back, okay?"

"Thank you," Jo says.

"Mmm hmm..." I grumble. "Hey, can you stop by today with a bunch of notebooks?"

"Why?"
"So Kendall can writ down his thoughts, any memories...stuff like that," I explain.

"Clever," Jo compliments. "I'll drop by sometime."

"Thanks."

"And, Logan?"

"What?"

"It feels great to have told you..."
"I know," I cut in. "Same here. I'll see you later." I hang up and reach back over Kendall to set the cell phone down. He groans and he turns on his back, facing up at me. His lucid green eyes are filled with brief reprieve and for a second, I wonder if he's forgotten me. "Kendall? Ah, um...you're awake."

Kendall blinks and says quietly, "Yeah."

"Did you sleep well?"

Kendall shudders and seems to disappear into another world for a moment. "I think I had I nightmare."

"You think you had a nightmare?" I ask, "What was it about?"

"Well, for one thing, it was blurry. I couldn't tell who was who; but there were shadows of people. I couldn't see them..." Kendall let's out a trembling breath. "But I could feel them. And they hurt me, Logan."

My blood went cold and something seemed to catch in my throat. All I could do was nod in a gesture for him to continue.

Kendall continues painfully, "No matter how many times I told them to stop...they'd just hit me...or worse..."

When I finally find my voice, I assure him, "They can't hurt you now. They would have to go through me to hurt you."

"I know." He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the couch. "Are you going anywhere today?"

I did want to find Hawk eventually, seeing how he was the one to leave Kendall for dead. I could find him another time though. "No, but Jo is gonna stop by with those notebooks."

"Notebooks?"

"Oh, right; you can write down things in them to refer back to if you start forgetting."

"Right...I hate to keep you down here all day."

"I could say the same for you."

"Yeah, but I think you're just trying to protect me," Kendall says, "And I haven't been able to remember what fresh air was, so I don't think it's exactly worth missing for me."

I shake my head. "Don't say that."

Kendall shrugs and says, "You've just done so much for me, I'm starting to feel...a bit useless."

"Oh come on, you're not useless."

"That dream-nightmare seems to think otherwise. Oh, no-I'm not completely useless, but my only use is other people's sex-toy."

God, I was afraid of this. The least this brutal world could do was have him never remember his prostitute reality.

"Kendall...it was a nightmare; it may not have happened."

Kendall shakes his head and looks at me forlornly. "You don't have to pretend. I may not know where I come from...who I am exactly...or why I would let something like that happen to my body in the first place; but I remember it."

I was partially surprised he wasn't crying again, but it was a good thing. Seeing him cry was worse than having my heart ripped out, ran over three times by a truck, and then burned until there was nothing left but ashes.

"Alright, we just won't write that down in your notebook."

"No," he whispers. "It's a part of me; I'll record everything that could be my past."

"If you're sure," I say gently, "I just don't want you to get hurt...again..."

Kendall nods and admits, "Sometimes I question the universe even wants me to be alive. Apparently I'm not worth enough to remember anything of my past but the bad."

I scoot closer to him and caress my hand to his right cheek and turned him to face me. "Hundreds of people have memory loss and most of them forget just as much as you do. You're not the only one who's frustrated. But if the universe didn't want you around, then why are you here in the first place? You're a beautiful person, Kendall. I don't want to hear you say anything more of that again."

He nods again. Kendall doesn't pull back and I don't move my hand. I feel something terrifying and wonderful all at once and my heart beats faster than I ever thought possible. I'd denied feelings like these for so long, but after confessing to Jo, it was as if- although no one else knew- a great weight had been lifted from my chest.

His lips are soft against mine as we move in sync. My eyes close and for the first time in forever, I loose myself. People always say there are sparks when you kiss your 'one'…and I right now; I feel fireworks.

Just as suddenly as it happened, it stops.

"Logan, I-I'm so sorry," Kendall whispers, his lips brushing against mine.

"Don't be," I murmur in a daze, leaning forward again to press my mouth to his again, desperate to experience that same explosion of passion once more. When air becomes of need to us, we separate.

"Is this why you're taking such great care of me?" Kendall laughs lightheartedly.

"Not at first. I don't think. I wanted to fix you first; you were broken...mentally, physically...And I'm just the kind of person who denies any other emotion than the ones like bitter happiness, loneliness, fear..."

"Then I'm not the only one who needs fixing," Kendall says sympathetically.

"Th-that you aren't," I stammer, not sure of any other way to respond. I didn't need fixing. Honestly, I was fine the way I was. There was no other me I knew. Perhaps a trace of innocence could be found back in the days when Jo and I played in the streets, but even then I knew the nature of everything in Detroit...in Disturbia.

I stand over the couch as Kendall writes in one of the notebooks. "Writing the nightmare?" I inquire.

"Well, that," Kendall answers. "And...You know."

I lean forward, my chest pressing against the back of the furniture. "You'd write that in?"

"Of course," Kendall replies. "I'd rather die on the spot than forget it."

"I never really thought of a kiss being important like that," I admit. "But alright; what ever you say."

Kendall smiles and continues back with his writing. "Why, uh; why do you stay down here so much anyways?"

"I'm an indoor person," I say bluntly. "And, there's you."

"Of course," Kendall grumbles.

"What? I thought you freaked out when I left," I muse.

"I do...but you must have a life out of here. That's why you leave some times, I suppose."

"Let's just say...it's a part time job."

Kendall doesn't respond and I'm glad. I didn't have an explanation. Not yet. "Oh," Kendall says.

"So, uh...when you're done, do you mind if I read?"

"Sure," Kendall answers. Twenty more minutes pass before he hands me the open book. I take it and read the words out loud.

"Logan said I should write in a notebook and it's a good idea. I seem to forget a lot. I'm Kendall-or so Logan found out- and I have short term memory lose. I was saved by Logan from...well I don't know that either; maybe one day he'll let me know. He takes care of me and I trust him.

But that's something that has set in. Last night I had a nightmare. Colors hazed and whirred around me. Everything was impossible to make out; my own vision had felt so far gone. I was running, but it was like I wasn't moving. Shadows bounced off the walls, silhouettes loomed over me; their mechanical, diabolical, laughter taunting me. Then a solid shape, a person who had no face; gripped my hips and slammed me into the wall. I opened my mouth to scream but nothing came out. And suddenly, pain rippled through my body. But the pain wasn't foreign, no-I definitely experienced it before. Where though? I tried to roll away from the man, but he hit me hard. Everything was black after that and I can not recall anything more but the pain and the blurred tormentors.

Waking up, I should have been a sobbing mess. Logan was here with me though. So, I didn't. But dreams often mean things, and the feeling of being ripped in two was familiar. That meant, whoever was... up there... was trying to tell me that my past was nothing but having sex I didn't want.

Then Logan told me I was beautiful...surprisingly enough, I didn't cry then. Something happened then. Something that I had forgotten. I forgot a lot but I wasn't even remembrance that this existed. When we kissed, there was far more than sparks, there was a far more intense sensation. Everything faded away. All my problems weren't there. It was insane, but when we kissed I didn't have anything to fear anymore.

I don't know if I'll spend the rest of my life down here, in Logan's seemingly hidden-away home; but if I do, I'm glad I'd be with him."

I let out a deep breath after finishing and glance at him with a warm smile. Kendall stares back at me and stutters, "I-I didn't k-know the date." He hands me the pencil and I scribble down on the top right of the page: January, 11, 2012.

"Thanks," Kendall says.

Well, hope u liked this...wow. yeah.

Oh, and I apologize for the randomness of that date up there.