A/N: I know I said that I feel like doing a one-shot based on the episode 'Big Time Pranks,' but I'm having much more difficulty with it than I originally anticipated, so it might not even happen. If it doesn't, I'm sorry for those of you who were looking forward to it.

Disclaimer: I still don't own Big Time Rush. It's on my Christmas list though…You hear that, Santa?

Til I Forget About You

Fallout

I was in the school parking lot. I was halfway to my car before I heard the sound of approaching footsteps. I heard Conrad call out to me.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going? After all the crap you've pulled recently, you don't just get to walk out of here!" Conrad shouted.

I saw that Conrad's yelling had attracted a crowd of onlookers already. The two of us were now completely surrounded by other students. Some of them had started a 'Fight' chant even.

"I'm not going to fight you, Conrad," I said calmly.

Conrad knocked my books out of my hand. They fell to the blacktop below. I could just tell from his body language that he was just daring me to do something about it. I wasn't about to give him the satisfaction though for one. Secondly, I was no fighter.

"What are you, a chicken?" Conrad taunted, before making clucking noises.

"Conrad, stop it!" Courtney pleaded, grabbing hold of her boyfriend's shoulders.

I was horrified when he pie-faced her, shoving her aside. Luckily, she caught herself before she face planted on the blacktop.

"Shut up, Courtney!" Conrad yelled.

I may not be a fighter, but one thing I could not stand was a guy treating a girl like that. Was pie-facing Courtney really necessary? My hands clenched into fists at my sides.

"That's no way to treat a lady!" I remarked.

"She's my girlfriend! Not yours! I'll talk to her and treat her however I damn well please!" Conrad retorted.

Courtney placed her hand on my chest, and gently held me back.

"Don't Logan. You'll get hurt," she said.

"Who do you think you are? What, do you actually think you're somebody now? I've got news for you—you're not! You're still a nobody! It's still my hockey team! It's still my choir! Courtney's still my girlfriend! You're nothing but a boy band reject!" Conrad yelled.

Despite Conrad's best attempts at provoking me, I maintained my composure. I picked up my books from the ground, and turned around before walking away from the fight Conrad was yearning for.

"Yep. Sure. Walk away like the coward you are!" Conrad screamed at me.

In my head, I was repeating over and over again, "Violence is never the answer." Even though a part of me wanted so badly to turn around, walk over to Conrad, and knock him into next week. After everything he's been saying about me, he has it coming.

"Conrad, please stop!" Courtney begged.

What happened next caused something inside of me to snap. Conrad had slapped Courtney in the face. He wasn't pulling his punches either. I heard the sickening sound of the blow that sounded more like a gunshot than anything else. I believed it was wrong for a guy to hit a girl.

"That does it!" I exclaimed.

I dropped my books, threw my backpack aside, turned around, leapt through the air, and tackled Conrad to the ground. Both of us had our hands wrapped around each other's throats.

"Fight, fight, fight…" the spectators chanted, gradually increasing in volume with each chant.

We rolled around on the ground struggling for dominance. Unfortunately, Conrad not only had the height advantage, but he also had the weight advantage. He ended up in a mounted position. He sat atop my chest. He pinned my arms to my sides with his legs. He started hitting me with lefts and rights to my face.

My head got jarred to the side with each and every punch. My vision had already started to blur. I felt extremely dizzy. Just when my eyes had finally focused, he would land another blow to my face. I struggled to free my arms, but it was no good. Conrad was too strong for me.

My eyes stung with tears when I realized that no one was willing to come to my rescue. Here I thought I was at least somewhat popular now. I guess I thought wrong. Or maybe people were just afraid of standing up to Conrad. Maybe they thought it was better that I was the one getting pummeled instead of them.

There was no reprieve from Conrad's onslaught. It was one blow after another after another. I could no longer see out of my right eye. It had already swollen shut. From what I could see out of my left eye, I saw Conrad's fist just before it connected with my face.

"Conrad, stop! You're going to kill him!" Courtney pleaded.

Conrad paid no heed to his girlfriend. He continued to use me as his personal punching bag. I managed to knee Conrad in the groin. He doubled over in pain. I shoved him off me. Courtney helped me to stand. I had an arm draped around her shoulder, as she had both of hers wrapped around my waist.

"Come on. I'll take you home," she said.

XXXXX

I was lying on the couch back at my apartment. I held a bag of frozen mixed vegetables over my swollen right eye. I had tissue stuffed up my nostrils. Courtney was sitting on the floor in front of the couch.

"I'm sorry about Conrad," she said.

"Courtney, you don't have to apologize for something he did. Why are you even with someone like him anyways?" I asked.

Courtney stood up, and started to head for the door.

"Courtney, wait. I'm sorry I said that. Let's just forget I even said that, okay?" I asked.

I knew it wouldn't be as simple as that though for Courtney. I had already put those words out there, and no matter how much I wished, I couldn't take them back. She walked back over to the living room, and sat down in a recliner next to the sofa.

"How do you feel?" she asked me.

I couldn't get over the guilt in her voice. She somehow felt responsible for what happened to me, and I hated it. She was not to blame for what happened to me. I shouldn't have lost my cool. I should have just walked away like I originally intended on doing. I didn't want her to feel any worse than she already did, so I lied.

"I feel fine," I replied.

The truth of the matter was that I could go for some Tylenol or something right about now. I had a killer headache, and I needed something for the pain. I gritted my teeth and tried to will my pain away, but it was an uphill battle.

"You shouldn't have swooped in to rescue me," Courtney stated.

I wasn't sure what to make of her comment. I felt kind of hurt by what she said if I was being completely honest. I defended her honor, and she didn't even seem to be appreciative of that. It probably would have helped if I did better in my fight with Conrad, but it wasn't my fault I was a novice when it came to hand-to-hand combat. I was typically a pacifist.

"I couldn't just stand by and do nothing, Courtney. The way I was raised, it was not okay for a guy to hit a girl, period," I said.

"What difference does it make? It doesn't concern you! Conrad's my boyfriend. It was sweet and all, don't get me wrong, but I don't even like you like that!" Courtney remarked.

"Why are you being like this? I thought you were my friend."

Courtney got up out of her seat, and walked over to me. She bent down, and planted a kiss on my forehead. Even though she hadn't kissed me on the lips or anything, it still felt wrong to have another girl kiss me.

"Logan, you and I were never just friends," Courtney commented.

"Excuse me?" Camille hollered.

I sat up immediately upon hearing Camille's voice. The bag of mixed vegetables fell to the carpeted floor. I certainly hadn't expected Camille to be back so soon. Courtney was standing upright, and backed away from me a few paces.

"Unbelievable! You freak out about me bringing a male co-star back to our apartment, and then I come back to find some bimbo kissing you and saying that she is more than just your friend!" Camille exclaimed, her hands on her hips.

"Camille, you have it all wrong!" I cried out.

"I should probably just go," Courtney said.

"You think?" Camille commented, glaring daggers at Courtney.

Camille nearly slammed the door into Courtney's back, she was so eager for her to leave. She then turned her attention back to me. She looked furious with me.

"What happened to your face?" Camille asked, her voice softening considerably.

"That's what I was trying to tell you! I got in a fight at school. Courtney didn't want me driving with basically only one eye, so she gave me a ride back here," I explained.

Camille frowned. Her eyes were brimming with tears.

"I wish I could believe you Logan, but I don't," she said.

"What, are you jealous?" I asked.

"I'm not jealous!"

"Good! Because you don't get to be jealous! You don't get to be insecure! How many dates with me have you cancelled since we've been in New York? I lost count. Not that anything happened between me and Courtney, but even if something had, what difference does it make to you? This is the most I've talked to you since we've moved here! You don't do things with me! We never eat meals together! Most of the time, you pretend like I'm not even your boyfriend! Then, all of a sudden, just because a girl actually pays attention to me, you're magically my girlfriend again?"

"Oh my God! You are such a hypocrite, Logan! You tell me I don't get to be jealous, but what were you when I brought my male co-star to our apartment, if not jealous? Excuse me for having a busy schedule! I've always supported you and your singing. Stupid me! Here I thought you would actually return the favor and support me and my acting! What do you want me to do? Drop everything just so we can go out on a date?"

I closed my left eye, pinched the bridge of my nose, and took several deep, cleansing breaths in succession. I hated that I was fighting with Camille. I hated fights in general. I was a non-confrontational person. My breathing was unsteady. My hands were trembling. My palms were all sweaty.

"I don't support you and your acting? Really? What do you call me moving three thousand miles across the country then? You don't have to drop everything for me, but is it so much to ask for you to take a little time out of your day to tell me you love me or to ask me how my day went?" I inquired.

"Why should I always have to be the one to say 'I love you' or kiss you? If memory serves me, you've never told me that you love me! You've never kissed me! You've never asked me how my day went! Do you even hear yourself? You're getting mad at me for something you don't even do yourself! As for you moving across the country, if you're so unhappy, maybe you should just go back to L.A. then!" Camille remarked.

"Maybe I will!"

"Fine! Do it! See if I care! I don't know what I ever saw in you! I hope you die alone!"

I couldn't see out of my left eye anymore because it was clouded by my tears. I didn't know what was happening to us. We were both yelling at each other at the top of our lungs. We had both made the other cry. If Camille didn't want me here anymore, I was gone. I stormed off to my bedroom to pack my suitcase.

XXXXX

I was on my way to the airport. My right eye was still swollen shut, so I probably even shouldn't be driving, but I didn't care. Camille wanted me gone, so I was gone. I gripped the steering wheel with shaky hands.

Logan, you and I were never just friends.

I'm sure once you do, Kendall and James will forgive you.

You're still a nobody!

You're nothing but a boy band reject!

Walk away like the coward you are!

I hope you die alone!

I felt so alone. I had no one. I had burnt all my bridges. New York, Los Angeles, Minnesota, what difference does it make? No matter where I was, I didn't belong. No one cared about me. I was so sick of everything. I couldn't take it anymore.

There was a four-way intersection up ahead. The light had just turned red. However, instead of hitting the brakes, I pushed down even harder on the gas. The guys hated me for leaving. Camille hated me for not being content with our non-existent relationship in New York City. I hated myself for not being good enough to be anyone's friend; for not being good enough to be anyone's boyfriend. I hated myself just because I did. I wanted everything to just stop.

I sped right out into oncoming traffic. I was blinded by the headlights of a semi. I held a hand up over my eyes, shielding them. I heard the sickening crunch of metal as the semi turned my car inside out. Everything around me faded into darkness.

To Be Continued…

A/N: And you thought Chapter 6 was dark. This is the part where you thank your lucky stars that I'm not one of the writers for the show. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. I have a bad case of FCMD—Favorite Character Mutilation Disorder. Logan just had to be my favorite character. I'm really horrible to Logan in my stories, aren't I? Wait. Don't answer that. It was a rhetorical question. Anyways, I'm building up to something, so there is a method to my madness…