Logan woke up in a hospital bed, his wrist's chained to both sides of the surrounding bars, when his eyes first fluttered open to look for the blonde boys face. But instead, he saw emptiness. He saw white walls and blue chairs and a big TV on on the right side of the room with a Kid's show on. Yet nothing seemed to matter in the moment because Kendall, the boy who Logan had been saved by, wasn't there for him. Instead, a rather plump woman was hovering over him with needles and so on.
"He's awake Docta Lane," the woman said with a Yankee accent, "you can bring the Social Worka in now." Logan was still so confused to what was going on; all he remembered was how incredibly amazing his kiss with the Blonde boy was. It was breathe-taking.
"Hi Logan," a second woman said who was knocking at the door, this one taller and thinner, like a rail with long brown hair and bronzed skin. "I'm Misses Hall; I'm a worker for the state. We believe that you have been put at danger at home and after extensive investigation, we have enough evidence to pull you. The final piece is you consenting to help the case against the Mitchells."
"With all due respect," Logan began, still so confused of the unfolding events, "May I ask what you are accusing my parents of." Then a cry went into the air, "You know exactly what they did to you Logan; they neglected you and let that stupid girl hurt you in front of them. You're better off." "Shut up, don't say a single word, we're going home and you're going to take the beating like a man." "Please, Please help me Ms. Hall, you heard what they said, you know what they've done. I can't go home," he screeched, digging his nails deep into his scalp in an attempt to shut the voices in his head up.
She was clenching the wall in horror after realizing that the young boy had broken the handcuffs that were chained to his bed in all his anger and pain. This wasn't normal; what had these people done to this small teen. He wasn't muscular or big, he was actually quite petite with beautiful features, and it scared the woman that his mental state had broken down to this matter. "I swear to god honey, I won't let them ever hurt you again if you help me. I'm going to sit right here next to you and I won't leave until you get everything they did to you off your chest." And so Logan started divulging every secret he was told to keep. How Gina would burn him with the iron when he wouldn't listen or how his parent insulted him with how 'faggy' he dressed every day and Ms. Hall listened in horror. After hours of listening, she held the boy and rocked him, promising to help him in any way she could to get the voices to never come back.
Still, one thought couldn't seem to leave Logan's muddled mind; were was that amazing blonde boy from the camp. Kenton, Kendall, Karl. He really couldn't draw the name up immediately, but he was still bugged by the fact that he wasn't there. He made a promise. He held him in his arms. He kissed him. And that sense of abandonment by someone who'd actually made him feel something in a long time made Logan want to simply die.
Kendall and his friends decided to end their summer by going to L.A. for a little while at an Aunt's house, but she was so high the whole time they could do absolutely anything they wanted to do. So every night they'd run the town doing crazy things and pissing people off; eat and dash, ding-dong-ditch at two in the morning, taking small things from local stores. It was all easy prey and away from Minnesota, they could do anything they wanted, but Kendall seemed aloof the whole time. He would stay home most of the time while his and Jo's friends would run around and do this stuff, but it was Kendall's behavior in general that had been scaring Jo lately.
It'd been a two weeks since the incident at the camp and Kendall still wasn't acting all normal. There was an emptiness in him that scared Jo because it wasn't shock or terror; it seemed more like longing. Which scared her the most; how could she ever confess to anyone that her boyfriend had been tempted and ultimately taken to Satan. Just the word repulsed Jo. Homosexual. Gay. Faggot. It was all the same, the work of some unholy monster creating things that just simply shouldn't exist. Two of the same parts didn't go together, it took work from two opposite things to create one and it was obvious that Kendall was losing his grip on this. She needed to give her boyfriend something that would remind him what god wanted out of him. Jesus would forgive her if she gave away her virginity to save someone's soul. More than anything, she would be a saint for doing this, giving away her purest gift to keep a follower of the holiest on the right path. So that night, Jo somehow convinced Kendall to go out on the town with them and she knew what she'd have to do. She put on her shortest skirt, put the curling iron on her hair just right, cut her shirt to expose her mid-riff, applied her make-up perfectly to be the image of sex. She was ready, but it was going to take time to convince Kendall to do this with her. And finally, after hours of hopeless flirting and preparation, she was ready to give herself to Kendall and somehow, he had just disappeared.
Logan sat in the chair quietly from the older man who was sitting across from him with a notepad in hand a recording device. It was his first day in therapy and it was nothing at all like he expected; he was imagining a bed were he'd lay while a doctor simply nodded when he was pouring his heart out. Instead, he was sitting in post-modern chairs in a windowed office in a towering building in the center of the hospital district. The old man wrinkled his nose before asking the opening question:
"So, Mr. Mitchell, let's get comfortable together, shall we; for any progress to be made, I need you to feel totally at ease in my presence so my first request is that you tell me the basic facts about yourself. Your criticisms of who you are, shortcomings, goals, attributes, characteristics, orientations, things you enjoy. Help me help you," he old man said, giving Logan a comforting, wrinkled grin.
"Well, I'm about 5'7, 120 pounds, blood-type A positive, dark hair, pale skin tone, small fra-." "Tell em about how you're body is like a little girl." "Don't listen to him, he's just being mean, you are beautiful Logan." "Why don't you just throw him in a wig and a skirt and call him Lora. He needs to toughen up. He's a bitch boy." "Shut Up!" Logan screamed at his throbbing head. The doctor's expression never changed, jotting down notes on what I was doing.
"Logan," he began, looking him earnestly in the eyes, "is it safe to assume that you have body issues."
Logan nodded his head when the gruff voice broke surface into the air, "You forgot to tell him about the fact that you're a 'fudge packer.' A no good 'Cock sucker', 'Faggot' who fails at every single thing he does. A 'Pillow-biting Pansy' 'Fairy' who likes it so far up the ass he can't breathe. A 'ball-juggling' 'Queer-." "Did I not say to fucking shut up," Logan dove out of the seat and broke the vase in half on the table next to him, running for the mirror that was behind the doctor. "Never speak again, hear me. You don't control me, I do," he swung the jagged glass at the mirror and splinters of material flew all over the room, the doctor barely ducking in time before he almost got hit. "It's my life," screamed Logan while the old man crawled out, "And I'll kill you first before you try to hurt me." He fell to the floor when the voice returned, "Don't ever address me like I'm bellow you when I'm the one trying to save you. This is a very cruel world and 'poofs' like you just don't make it. Call it a favor, me trying to kill you." "You'll never touch me again, because I don't need you," Logan saw the monster in a piece of broken glass on the floor and grabbed a sharp, broken piece from next to him. Putting the glass on the edge of his neck, like the knife a week ago, the thrill of death crossed his mind again. Panting hard, he felt the blood escape, but he knew the cut wouldn't kill himself because he had no intention of truly silencing the voices; he wanted to control them. And he had to prove his dominance to both of the other people taking residence in his head. Then he heard crunched glass and felt thick arms grab him from behind and pick him up. He began to kick and scream; thrashing and striking as best he could, but it was no use. The intruder was stronger than him. That's when he felt the needle in the familiar spot in his arm and everything slipped to darkness.
Kendall was lost, late at night in L.A. and it was not a particularly pleasant feeling for him; he was pissed at Jo for convincing him to come and then just leaving him. Fuck her; he was planning on dumping her anyway. Walking through the cold streets, he realized that this town was a different place at night entirely. A different woman with thigh high, black leather boots was standing with her torn fish nets and bad wig on every corner. 'Make-up must ran by the gallon when it rains' Kendall thought to himself, which he found amusing. After an hour of trying to find his way home, he was gonna try to get a cab when a tall boy walked out of the shadows. Body glistening with oil and dark hair and hazel eyes, the boy stuck out to him.
"Hey there eyebrows," the taller teen said, revealing himself out of the darkness in nothing, but too tight jeans.
"I'm not interested," Kendall said, not looking at him directly; he had someone else on the mind.
"Wasn't makin a proposition, hot stuff," the hooker replied, "You look lost and I'm off for the night. I wanted to know if you needed help getting home." The gigolo pulled out a cigarette and lit it up while inhaling a little of the smoke before breathing it out. "I remember my first night in this city because I'm reliving it every time I turn a hook. I'm trying to make sure that doesn't happen to you."
"Fine," Kendall said, turning around to face the boy and then walking over to lean against the brick wall he was leaning on, "You'll take me home, free of charge." Kendall held out his hand for a smoke and the taller boy lit him up.
"You smoke," the hooker said surprised, putting his out on the damp wall.
"Actually, I don't," he choked on the smoke before vomiting, the prostitute taking the cigarette and putting it out where he had done his own.
"Should-a-known," the hazel-eyed boy said, "Why don't we get going and tell me what you remember most about where you're at." Kendall did his best to explain, but it just made no sense to either of them and after an hour, they gave up. "Look, we can get a cheap motel for a night and stay there," the tall boy said, "then you can call your friends to get you from there."
"Look, I'm not looking for sex tonight, I just want to get home," Kendall said, extending his hands to show that he didn't want anything that the prostitute was selling.
"You don't think I'm sexed out for the day," the hooker replied, going up the desk-top and flirting with the manager at the desk. "Go up to this room," he handed Kendall the keys, "I'll be up in about thirty minutes." The tall boy took the bell-hops hand and led him into a closet before locking the door; Kendall could hear the grunting already while he was waiting for the elevator to appear.
After an hour, the hooker showed up at the door to the sleezy motel with disheveled hair and Jeans that weren't done all the way up. "What," he said to Kendall who was looking at him strangely, "You've never had sex before." Kendall shook his head, hiding his eyes from the prostitutes view. "Sorry, didn't mean to judge, it's just, it's all I know."
Kendall looked up at him, "My names Kendall, I'm the preacher's son from a town in Minnesota, what do you think."
The prostitute flipped his hair and then looked back at him, "I'm James Diamond, small town boy from Wisconsin that came to L.A. to start his movie career and after starring in one porno, my chances are pretty much all derailed." They both laughed at their dispositions before Kendall started up again.
"I'm not gay," Kendall said matter-of-factly, "I'm not turned on right now."
"Okay. I don't know why you are telling me that if you just said you weren't gay, but what-ever. Well, if it wasn't obvious, I am gay, but in this business, I don't get to have a preference. I get more horny divorced women then I get men. Who'd want a whore who's taller than them bobbin on their cocks; it's not really on demand."
"I think you're a little attractive," Kendall piped up awkwardly, "I'd choose you any day."
"Thanks for the complement," James said sarcastically, pulling up the zipper on his pants, but Kendall grabbed his hand before he could do it all the way.
"I think if I was gay, I'd find you very attractive," Kendall repeated, starring into James's eyes deeply, "you'd be my first."
James nodded his head, "then let's pretend you are tonight and I can be your first; this is on the house," he said it as Kendall's lips drew closer to his own, but immediately, he put his hand over the blonde's mouth. "I don't ever kiss on the mouth; this is a one night thing, I don't want feelings involved. This is sex and purely that, so enjoy it." Instead, James went down and pulled Kendall's jeans down before flipping his boxer's down.
Kendall ran his fingers threw the hooker's long hair during the blow-job, enjoying every second of losing his virginity. James was a natural at this and Kendall guessed it was because it happened so often for him. He lost himself in the passion and started to thrust forward when the prostitute started to feel Kendall's body over.
Author's Note: OMG! I'm so happy everyone responded so well to that because I've been drafting it for about a month now (It was originally supposed to be my first story).I hope you enjoyed Chapter two, because it drained me to write, but I enjoyed it. It's a breath of fresh air to get to write both characters for ounce. Sorry that there was like no sex scene at all for it to kind of be integrall, but I'm still getting used to the idea of putting them in these compromising positions. I swear I'll get better and I hope it wasn't too confusing because it's so jumpy. P.S. – if the underlined text was confusing for anyone because I have my bold (author's notes) and italics (Logan's voices), the underlined text is Kendall's POV or someone connected to him. I decided to separate the different ones (POV's) because of how much I jump around between the two characters. Sorry. Luv ya. XoXo