Title: Behind Closed Doors
Chapter 9
Word Count: 1505
Rating: M!
Pairings: Eventual James/Carlos, with undertones of Kendall/Logan.
Disclaimer: Of course I don't own Big Time Rush!
Warnings:Abuse, implied rape, self-harm
Summary: AU His friends only saw the happy, peppy, playfully crazy him. They never saw the broken, pained, dying him. He wouldn't, couldn't let them. They couldn't know what happened behind closed doors.
Author's Note: Hey, again! It's lil' ol' me bringing you another chapter.
Uhm, Follow me on twitter: ImAnAuthoress
Anyway, right before I start, I gotta say… I love the support from everyone. I got a Story Alert from one of my favorite author's the other day and that was great! But, y'all I do love seein' what you have to say. So, please, please, please review!
Oh, and this is a little something called word spewing. I NEEDED to update for you all, I've been so busy with other things I haven't even had time to write, let alone any inspiration. So, yeah sorry.
One of the longest chapter's yet!
Time for some Confrontation!
DallieJLovesBTR
James clutched his dying notebook and walked up the stairs, to the third floor, room 3C, dark wood door with a bronze door knocker, broken doorbell, and small silver handle. There he would find the Garcia household, two, possibly one, of them in the house, staying quiet, as they often did. The walls would be beige, as they had always been, for as long as he could remember. Mateo would sit silently in the corner, reading some dark novel not looking at Carlos, if he was there. Carlos would be sitting on the couch, watching a children's show, as he always did. Carlos would jump up and hug him and tell him how much he had missed him. At least that what James wished, but, of course, why would that happen? Nothing was going right at the moment.
James sighed quietly when he reached that floor, that apartment, and grabbed the knocker and tapped it three times. He waited patiently, and, to his dissatisfaction, was met by the dark eyes of Mateo. Mateo looked at him confused for a moment before asking, almost silently, "James?" He nodded and asked to come in. He looked over his shoulder, as if taking cues from someone behind him. He shook his head, "My dad isn't home, and Carlos doesn't think we should let anyone in."
James perked up slightly. "Carlos? He's here? Then, well, I have to come in." He tried shoving past the younger boy and was shoved slightly back. He frowned and was met by Mateo shaking his head, insisting that he couldn't come in. "Too bad, Mateo." He told the smaller and got past him with a sharp and hard shove.
James glanced around for a moment; he had been right about one thing. The walls were still beige. But everything else was different. All the paintings had changed, furniture rearranged, the T.V. was silent, and there was no pile of books next to the chair Mateo always sat in when they were younger. Possibly the biggest change was the way Carlos looked. Carlos eyes were in a vacant stare at James, bloodshot, as if he had been high or drunk recently, he was curled up in a ball on the brown couch. James took a step toward the couch and watched Carlos, his best friend, the possible love of his life, flinch away from him. It shattered his heart, that tiny flinch. He turned around for a moment and asked, no, told, Mateo to leave for a while. He opened his mouth for a moment in protest, and then shut it once again when Carlos shot him a glare. He nodded and grabbed his jacket and swiftly left.
James watched as the youngest Garcia left, but quickly looked back at the older and made his way to the couch. He sat close to Carlos, close enough to grab his hand, and, oh, how he wanted to. But at the moment, he waited. He sat silently, hoping for his smaller friend to start the conversation, ask him why he was here, ask him to leave, but nothing came. The younger remained quiet.
James took in a deep breath before asking a simple question. "What's wrong with you, Carlitos?" He didn't know why that was the first question he asked, but it was truly what he wanted to know. He didn't want to deal with idle chit-chat. He needed answers. Carlos stared at a small hole in his jeans. James stared at him.
"Nothing's wrong with me," he whispered, barely audible. He didn't look up, but he did start chewing on his thumb.
Nervous reaction, James thought, almost scribbling it down. It was obvious the Latino was lying to him. He blinked. "C'mon, Carlos, you can't pull that crap on me. You haven't been at school a lot lately, you're eyes are more bloodshot than I have ever seen them, and you've developed a bunch of… Habits. Avoiding people's eyes, pulling on your sleeves, staring at your shoes. You have to tell someone what's bothering you, why don't you tell me?" He moved his hand closer to the tanner one. "I'm here to listen." He engulfed the smaller hand into his, lacing their finger's together and smiling softly.
For the first time in what felt like forever, James saw the chocolate pools he loved so much, but not with their usual subtle smile in them. They were filled with a rage James had never seen him them. Carlos ripped away his hand and jumped up. James heart shattered once again. He wanted to die under Carlos evil glare. "Did I ask to share my feelings, James? Did I? The hell, I did! No one wants to know what goes on in here! And it's been so much worse over the last month!" He screamed. "It's a fucked up world, and I got the short end of the stick! You sit at home, in your cushy, little, fucking mansion and I'm stuck here, getting high all alone! And do you want to know why I do that James? Why I've been hiding from you and everyone else?" James was frightened, thoroughly. He had no idea why Carlos went from silent to screaming. He regretted grabbing his hand then. He almost shook his head no, but nodded ever so slightly.
Carlos chuckled darkly. "Sure, you do, of course you do. Well, guess what. I've been waiting to tell someone for years! It's horrible here. It's always been horrible with Papi! Always! You always met the nice hockey dad who let you guys come over a play video games and eat pie with me! That's the only Mr. Garcia you knew. Well, guess what, I wish that was who he was. When I was four, I had a baby sister. That bastard killed her! She was only a few months old, James! She didn't have a chance to live! I had a mother, until I was six. She committed suicide with me and my brother across the hall. I saw her fucking body. That's an image I can never get out of my head. When I was eight, we moved here. I met you and the other guys and vowed everything would change, maybe not at home, but everywhere else. I kept that up until now. But, I'll explain that moment-fucking-tarily." James nodded quickly. "I've always kept this house clean, at age nine, I started taking all the beatings, all of them. A beating a night. James, that's eight years worth of beatings, possibly more. I'd come home from hockey some nights, and get beat for not cooking dinner. I'd get home from games, and get beat for not scoring a goal. I'd get home from school and get beat for having an 'A-'in class. I go t beat for everything! And last month, I got beat for not telling my dad about that hockey game, before the play-offs, and was knocked out for days. Then after my dad finally saw my face again, I fought back."
Carlos choked back tears but James saw a few tears fall out. He felt tears falling out of his own hazel eyes as he stared up and the smaller. How could he not have known? Carlos took a deep breath and continued. "He punished me for that. The worst punishment I have ever got for anything. And he's done it over, and over, and over, at least twice a week, every week since. He took something I can never get back, ever!" James swallowed deeply as he absorbed this all. No, no. "He raped me! And no heard my screams, not a soul in this apartment complex. That was when I pulled away from all of you! That's when I knew I was fucked up. I couldn't be trusted, because then I'd fuck you all up to. And why do I pull on my sleeves?" He tugged them down for a moment, deciding, and then yanked them up to show James. Scars, scabs, bleeding wounds covered in loose gauze. A flood broke loose from James eyes. He grabbed Carlos' arm and kissed his wrist softly. Carlos yanked away. "I'm fucked up, James. No one could ever love me. Including my best friends."
Carlos fell in a sobbing heap on the floor, curled back into a ball, sobbing into his jeans. James slid to the floor and engulfed Carlos into his strong arms and cried with him. They cried for minutes. James took a deep breath and pulled Carlos' chin up to look him in the eye. Both of their faces were tear stained, but James didn't care. He kissed Carlos' cheek and took a salty tear away. He stared into the now sad eyes and smiled subtly. "Don't tell yourself that, Carrrrlos," he rolled the 'r' the best he could and grabbed Carlos' face. "I will always love you. No matter what's going on in here." He patted his head.
And, to his surprise, and Carlos', pulled the smaller face toward him.
So, yeah. There you go. I made it extra long for y'all. Uhm, yeah. James knows now! So, yeah. And Carlos knows that James' loves him! Next chapter will be a little continuation of this and then some of the day after this, which'll be Monday.
Hope you liked it! I'll update ASAP! Love you all!
Please, don't forget to review, please, please, please, please!
Later!
Dallie.