A/N: Is this the part where I put the first lines of "Without Me"? Not the bit about the trailer park girls obviously, but the next part... Probably not. I'm too white to even get away with quoting a white rapper.

Anywho, hey, hi, what's up?! Okay, so gotta give a huge shout-out to those of you who were actually patient enough to wait during this hiatus and understand my reasons for doing so. You guys are awesome! And an especially big thanks to those of you who wished me luck on my Big Time Bang. It's still not technically done, since I still have a TON of editing done, but since it's actually written and I'm able to halfway (read: halfway) breathe with the deadline being pushed back to November, I was able to work on this.

Which brings me to... Hey, guess who has this here fic nearly completely written now?! That's right. That's right. Okay, I still have, like, one chapter left to write (I'm avoiding it, don't judge) and pretty much all of it is in a notebook and needs to be typed up, but it is written, okay?! And for anyone who's curious, there's five chapters left (not including this one) in "EotA". Time for tears? Possibly.

Apologies to Vicki, who I apparently keep messing with her emotions. Sorry.

Kinda.

Lastly, friendly reminder that putting "UPDATE!" and nothing else in a review just results in me getting pissed. And even if I had been planning on updating then, you pretty much guaranteed me putting it off for a day. So don't be that guyer, 'kay? Thanks.

Other than that...um...enjoy. And feel free to yell via review. Or praise via review. Or review via review. Just review, okay? Okay.

*mwahs!*

Probably shouldn't air kiss you guys. I'm still getting over the Demon Cold from Hell. *shakes fist at it* Whatever. I'm gonna stop rambling and go yell at the intro to "Agent Carter" again. SERIOUSLY, WHY WOULD YOU START A ONE-SHOT WITH THAT SCENE?! WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU, MARVEL?! HAVEN'T I SUFFERED ENOUGH?!

Kendall had an awesome ceiling.

Okay, no he didn't, but thinking of his ceiling was kinda his only option at the moment. It was that or fall into a deep, dark, spiraling depression to which there was no end.

Been there, done that, didn't get a t-shirt though. Rip-off.

What he needed was a distraction. Only he couldn't think of one. He couldn't leave the house so hanging out with Carlos or going for a drive or something to that degree weren't gonna happen. His cell and laptop had been confiscated so the internet wasn't an option. TV and movies were out, those having been taken away, too. He refused to even consider touching his guitar since the mere sight of it reminded him of how James had repeatedly asked him to play before he finally did so in the back of the singer's tour bus. Kinda pointless to do that when the whole point of distracting himself was so he wouldn't think of the pop star.

But all those options being eliminated meant he was left with only one: actually doing his homework and studying.

Wasn't that just shudder-worthy as fuck?

Probably was why he was laying on his back staring at his ceiling. Terrible idea though, really, considering how focusing on a flat white space didn't really distract, so much as made it easier for his mind to wander. Directly to where he didn't want it to go.

Of fucking course.

Smearing a hand over his face, he tried to think about just the punishment itself, the harshest one he'd ever received. Not much of a surprise really, considering his past actions. He truly had been a shit kid over the past couple years and the fact that his mom hadn't sent him off to military school or just kicked him out the house was nothing short of a miracle. He'd done nothing to deserve her kindness or her love. She'd stood up for him, had given her now ex-husband hell for not accepting that Kendall might be gay, had threatened to kick him out because he refused to deal with her son being homosexual. Yet not once had she gotten that pissed at Kendall himself, not once had she told him to stop being such an asshole or get out. Instead, she'd simply put up with it, had told herself it was just a phase and that things would get better, to just be patient and give him time.

Only Kendall never got better. He acted worse, thinking that if he got away with that previous bad offense, then surely he'd do the same with this other thing. He just didn't give a shit about his punishments, sneaking out while being grounded, using computers when banned from technology, watching movies or TV when he was supposed to be locked in his room studying. And, yeah, okay, not exactly the most badass behavior ever, but it was enough to grate on his mom's nerves and frustrate her further.

And still, she put up with him and his bullshit.

Kendall slammed his hand on the bed, huffing, chewing the inside of his lip. He'd been so completely unworthy of her forgiveness and had totally taken advantage of it. And not just her; he'd taken advantage of Carlos' kind heart and refusal to leave, too. And he'd been a prat to Camille and had lied to her, receiving nothing but understanding and kindness in return. He'd been a dick to Katie, too, though not to the same degree and really, most of that was just typical big brother joking around.

He thought of all the other people he'd let down over the past couple years, old friends he'd cut outta his life, his teammates who felt betrayed at one of their best players just up and quitting. He thought of Lucy telling him that he'd changed over the summer and Guitar Dude's shock when he showed up at his back to school party. Seems like the list of people he'd fucked over was never-ending and he knew it was all his fault, that he was the dickhead who was to blame.

He fucking deserved this punishment, and not just because he'd taken off in the middle of the night to fly to Cali. He deserved to not be able to go hang out with the few friends he had. He deserved to not be able to go online or talk on the phone. He deserved to not be able to listen to music or watch TV. But most of all, he didn't deserve to be able to communicate with James in any fashion. Or even have James in his life period.

Sitting up, Kendall ran a hand over his face, resolution setting in. No more being an asshole, no more breaking rules or defying punishments. He was gonna shut up and take it like a man, follow orders, do what he was told to do without any backchat or sarcasm. He was gonna be the perfect son, the perfect brother, the perfect friend. The perfect boyfriend.

Eventually.

He still hadn't a fucking clue what his relationship was with James, but that was an internal debate for another day. At that moment, all he was gonna focus on was turning himself around and making himself worthy of his mom's tolerance, worthy of Carlos' loyalty, worthy of Camille's understanding, and most of all, worthy of James' love.

Green eyes drifted over to his desk, where his bookbag laid untouched on top. Nodding to himself, he rose off the bed and headed over, being careful when he sat in his chair. A few shuffling positions later, he was comfy, his books laid out in front of him, pencil in hand. He was gonna stick to the parameters of his punishment and abide by the rules, even go further than what was required of him, become a better person all around.

Besides, there was always the chance he could be let off early for good behavior.

"Kendall!"

The sound of his mom screaming his name woke him up, head snapping up, eyes popping open. His mind was still fuzzy, causing him to be slightly disoriented. He rubbed his tired eyes as he tried to figure out what was going on and why he was at his desk.

His history book lay open before him, halfway through the chapter he was supposed to have read the night before. Apparently the War of 1812 had just been far too exciting and he could no longer handle it, causing him to fall asleep where he'd been sitting. Fuck, and he'd been so close to actually finishing all his homework, too. Probably didn't get the chance since his pre-cal took fucking forever to figure out, then the lit passage he'd been assigned had been so mind-numbingly boring he had to read it more than once in order to remember what it said. But on the plus side, he should have enough time in homeroom to finish reading the history chapter.

"Uh, Earth to Kendall?"

His head turned to his left, discovering his mom standing there, arms folded over her chest, eyebrows raised in expectation. He was still a little out of it, given his lack of sleep two nights ago and the fact that he'd just woken up from a deep slumber, and wasn't entirely sure what the hell was going on. "Huh?"

"What's going on here?" she questioned, pointing between him and his desk.

He glanced at the open book, the stack of other textbooks to the side, the scattered papers and dulled pencils. His muddled brain didn't see anything wrong with the picture, didn't see what was so confusing or why it warranted such a bewildered expression. "I was doing homework." The "duh" went unsaid, more prevalent in his tone than it ever would be if he'd spoken it out loud.

She let out a snort, head bobbing with the action, eyes rolling in disbelief. "Homework?" she double-checked, sounding as though the entire thing was completely implausible. "You?"

"Yeah," he began, spinning the chair around to fully face her, hands laying limply on his lap. "I'm turning over a new leaf and I'm gonna stop being such a li'l shi—" he caught the swear just in time. "—butthead and be good. Starting with doing my homework."

His mom looked at him with an eyebrow raised, completely dubious. "Uh huh. Right. Why should I believe you?"

His eyebrows bobbed in a "fair enough" manner, conceding her point. It wasn't like he'd been completely honest with her in the past and had earned her belief in everything he said. "Dunno," he replied, shrugging slightly, lips twisting. "Guess you'll just hafta trust me."

She scoffed, arching an eyebrow once again. "Right," she began, reminding him of where he'd gotten his sarcasm from—although he clearly was better and had perfected the art of the snarky response. "Because you've earned that trust, what with disappearing to California to spend the weekend with some guy."

Kendall cringed, face scrunching up, hand working the back of his neck. The honesty of her words and the venom she'd spoken them with were a sting he felt deep down and he knew then that his new task of trying to win back his mom's trust and respect was gonna be harder than he thought it'd be.

"Okay, point made," he admitted, dropping his hand onto his lap. Rearranging his features, he put on a serious expression, hoping to convey in his body language, as well as his words, that he was being honest at that moment and meant what he was saying. "But I swear I'm gonna earn that trust back."

His mom stared at him for a long silent moment, eyebrow still raised, disbelief still written clearly on her face. "Okay, who are you and what did you do with Kendall? Is he still back in California? Because I'm starting to think you're some sorta android-robot-whatever that was sent back to take his place," she responded in a higher pitched voice, hand flying about as she gestured towards him, before refolding it back over her chest.

Rolling his eyes wouldn't help his cause in proving that he was changing his previous li'l shithead ways, so for the first time in what felt like forever, he restrained from doing so. He was still slightly sarcastic and cocked an eyebrow at her though. "Nooo. I'm still me."

Another long, dragged out silent moment before her eyebrows bobbed. "Well, all right," she replied, seeming to buy it, unfolding her arms and putting her hands on her hips as she stood up straighter. At least it appeared like she bought it until she continued speaking. "You really want me to believe you've turned over a new leaf, then start telling the truth. Starting with who you went to visit in California." Her lips twisted, eyebrows raised in expectation as she shifted over to her other hip.

Well, shit.

He snorted as he shook his head, turning away from her and staring at the open textbook on top of his desk. "You definitely won't believe that," he muttered, running his thumb between the pages.

"Try me."

Kendall turned back to her, noting the daring look on her face, the way her eyebrow was arched in challenge. He knew he was fucked in this situation, that he was right in saying she wouldn't buy what he was selling, no matter how legit it was. He briefly considered lying, or saying it was Camille, only to realize that wouldn't explain the hickeys on his neck. Besides, continuing to hide the truth went against his whole New Kendall plan that he had and completely defeated the purpose of changing himself for the better. Really, it was in his best interest to just be honest with her. If she didn't believe him, then so be it, but at least he knew the truth.

With a sigh, he locked onto her eyes, hoping she'd see the sincerity and gravity in his own green orbs as he flatly spoke the name of the man he was trying not to think about: "James Diamond."

He kinda wished he was getting paid per second during each silent moment because at this rate, he'd be a fucking millionaire.

His mom's features were flat, betraying nothing, her eyes the same icy blue they had been for the past five minutes. She folded her arms over her chest once again, lips pursed as she nodded. "You're right," she admitted evenly, flat. "I don't believe you."

He smeared a hand over his face as he nodding himself, having known that would be her response. But whatever. At the end of the day, he could feel good about having told the truth and that's what mattered. Although it would've been nice to know she believed him and would just take his word. It would definitely make things easier for him, whether it be in regaining her trust or for any possible future conversations in which the pop star would be brought up.

If Kendall even felt up to discussing him.

"I'm not gonna talk about this any further," his mom began, drawing his attention. He turned his eyes to her, watching her sweep a hand out in front of her as though she was wiping the entire topic to the side for another day. If ever. "You need to get ready for school or you're gonna be late."

His eyes widened at that, head snapping around to check the time on his alarm clock. Shit. Being forced to ride his bike meant he needed to leave earlier than usual. As in right at that moment.

Shooting up to his feet, he hastily gathered his things, shoving them into his backpack haphazardly. Being neat and organized was for people who had time, someone that he wasn't. He zipped his bag up with more force than necessary, slinging it over his shoulder before grabbing his new cell and sliding it into his pocket. Figuring he had everything, he stepped toward the door, only to have his mom hold out a hand and stop him.

"Whoa!" she called out, stopping him. "Aren't you gonna get changed? No way are you going out in the same clothes two days in a row." Hand dropped, she looked him up and down, face full of motherly disapproval.

"Oh," he replied in realization, mouth staying in the "O" formation for a few extra seconds. "Right." He leaned over to let his backpack slip off his shoulder and slide down onto the desk. Reaching behind his head, he grabbed fistfuls of his t-shirt, pulling it up and off before tossing it onto his growing pile of dirty clothes that he should probably put in the laundry room after work. He grabbed a random tee from his closet, slipping it over his head and on without even looking at it. Changed, he turned to his mom, hands out to the side in a "happy now?" motion.

The arched eyebrow and pointed finger said no. "And the rest?"

He dropped his hands. "They're clean," he argued, voice raised in pitch.

She sighed harshly, pinching the bridge of her nose as she muttered a "teenagers", the word sounding like a swear. Moving her hand, she inspected his jeans, bobbing her eyebrows in an "okay then" manner, seeming to not be in the mood to argue further. "Fine. But are you seriously going out in that?" she questioned incredulously, pointing at his t-shirt.

Kendall's brow furrowed in confusion, not entirely sure what could possibly be wrong with any t-shirt he owned. Deciding to check it out for himself, he peered down, seeing the purple cotton that was covering his torso. And the gold diamond emblem and James Diamond signature.

Shit.

So much for trying to distract himself and not think of the singer. Seemed the universe was against his plan.

Dick.

Lifting his head back to his mom, Kendall gave a sharp nod. "Point taken." The shirt was quickly removed and tossed onto the desk—since it wasn't dirty and he was actually putting forth the effort to somewhat be organized with his laundry at least—before yanking another random tee off a hanger. He inspected the front of it—an old Avenged Sevenfold one with the batskull logo, which was then exchanged for an Eighteen Visions one. He wasn't about to wear a shirt that bore the name of a band whose song a certain pop star serenaded him with down the phone line.

His whole Not Thinking of James Plan was going just as well as his Proving to His Mom That He Was Changing His Behavior Plan. Which was not at all.

The shirt sleeve got snagged on the bandana tied around his left wrist—thank you, Universe—but he managed to get it on, in between answering his mom's inquiries about whether or not he was working that afternoon. His outfit now more acceptable, he grabbed his backpack and headed for the door, giving his mom a last second kiss on the cheek as he passed her, causing her to become stunned and stuck to the spot.

It wasn't until he reached the top of the stairs when she snapped out of it, leaving his room and calling after him. "You better eat breakfast quickly if you wanna get to school in time."

The thought of food made his stomach lurch and he hid the grimace from his face as he turned to face her, one foot on the first step down. "I'll just grab something on the way there from McDonald's or something," he lied easily, a small part of him hating himself for it. But better that than dealing with her fussing over him and worrying if he was sick and that's why he was skipping meals. He wasn't in the mood for a lengthy chat over his mental state and how he just didn't feel like eating or doing anything other than curling up in a blanket burrito and just...laying.

But laying there would lead to thoughts of James, which was what he was trying to avoid, not to mention wouldn't help him get his shit together. So instead, he was up and about, heading to school, doing his homework, being the good son that his mom deserved.

Her lips pinched as she slowly nodded, narrowed eyes showing that she wasn't entirely sure if she was okay with that. "You sure?"

Kendall nodded, hiding any emotions from his face, wondering if he had as good a mask as James did. Probably not. He definitely needed to never play poker with that guy. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Uh huh." She sounded like she didn't believe him, looked like it, too. Didn't matter. Either way, he just didn't feel like dealing with that whole chewing-swallowing-consuming thing. His stomach was already off, churning slightly and the idea of putting something in it just wasn't an appealing thought. And while he knew that lying and hiding the truth from his mom—no matter how small a thing it was—wasn't a good way to start earning back her trust, he was just gonna hafta risk it and do it anyway.

With a wave and a forced smile, he turned and headed down the stairs, on his way to face another long day away from the one person he wanted to be around, but was banishing from his thoughts.

He skipped lunch, too, still not feeling up to the task to actually eat. His stomach was too full of emotions he didn't wanna deal with, unspoken words swallowed down so they wouldn't be blurted out.

Hanging with his friends didn't sound all that appealing either, so Kendall headed to the hill he'd spent his previous lunch hour on, sitting on top with his legs stretched out in front of him. He thought of the day before, when he'd told Carlos where he'd disappeared to over the weekend, how he'd been with James. The memory of just talking about his time with the singer caused an ache in his chest and his fingers twitched to reach into his pocket and pull out the cell his mom gave him.

Only to remember he still didn't have the pop star's number.

Stupid contact lists, making it unnecessary to memorize someone's digits.

He let out a heavy sigh as his head hung loosely off his shoulders, mind drifting exactly where he didn't want it to. He hated moping, hated being that whiny li'l bitch that just shuffled around miserably, complaining because they couldn't have the one person they wanted. He'd done enough of that shit over the summer, and that was before he even got to know James on a deeper level and actually know for a fact that there was something real between them. Being aware of how well they worked as a couple—if that's what they were—wasn't helping at all. It just added to his depression, added to his believe that they truly belonged together and that being separated from him was the worse kinda torture.

And okay, Kendall had brought it upon himself really with his actions over the weekend, a fact that didn't escape his mind but made things worse. Because all he could think about was how easy it would've been to just leave a note before he left, to text in the car ride to the hotel with Logan, at the radio station, during meet-n-greets, a thousand opportunities that he didn't take because he was off being selfish and horny.

Cause he was a bastard. No wonder his dads left him. They obviously saw something terrible in him even then. And soon, James was gonna figure it out for himself.

Well, good. He'd always said he didn't deserve James, that the singer should have someone far better than him. Maybe this non-communicative break they were inadvertently having would make the elder male see that, make him move on and find someone far more deserving of his time and attention.

But as much as he believed that was what was best for James, the thought still make Kendall's heart shatter within his too tight chest, the broken pieces falling into his stomach and making him nauseous.

Sniffing, he caught himself absently rubbing at the bandana James had given him, one that had adorned the pop star's wrist for probably years, a fashion staple he was as known for as his songs. Kendall was seriously sucking at this whole not thinking about James thing.

Forcing all thoughts of singers and broken hearts aside, he pulled his history text book outta his backpack and flipped to the needed page. Studying still wasn't his favorite activity in the world, but losing himself in the settling of the first US colonies would help distract him from thinking about what his favorite activity actually was and who he wanted to be doing it with.

He squirmed in his seat, his hole still sore, although thankful it'd been ignored for a day and a half now.

Right, not what he needed to be focused on. Shaking his head to rid all thoughts and memories his still stinging—although admittedly better—entrance brought up, he concentrated on the open textbook on his lap, losing himself in his reading assignment.

At least he did for a while before the familiar sounds of a bouncing backpack and jaunty steps reached his ears.

Raising his eyes, Kendall noticed Carlos merrily making his way up the hill, small smile on his face as he loudly hummed some pop tune the blond didn't recognize. Satisfied that he'd been right, he flipped his eyes back to his book, going back over the last sentence he'd read before he'd been distracted.

Carlos plopped down on his left, styrofoam tray with his usual lunch of corn dogs and tater tots precariously balanced in one hand. He continued humming as he popped a couple of the potato morsels in his mouth, leaning over to check out what the taller boy was reading.

"Dude," he started, words muffled due to half-chewed food. "What're you doing?"

"Studying," Kendall pointed out flatly, eyes still trained on the black and white type as it described the hardships that early settlers faced during the winter.

The Latino glanced back and forth between the textbook and the blond's face, confusion furrowing his brow as he ripped off the end of a corndog with his teeth. "Why?"

"Got a test tomorrow."

"So?" he questioned before swallowing. "Since when do you care about studying for tests? Unless—" he trailed off, dark eyes going wide as his jaw hung slack, a gasp working its way out from his throat. "You were replaced by a robot!" he whispered out harshly, like no one was supposed to hear but the shock made him say it out loud.

Kendall actually raised his head at that, turning towards his best friend, "are you fucking serious?" written all over his face. "You're the second person to ask me that today," he informed the shorter male, somewhat muttering. Shaking his head, he looked back at his book, trying to get back to studying.

He should've known it was an impossibility with Carlos around.

"Or maybe a pod person?" the Latino theorized out loud, actually sounding serious. The blond lifted his head and stared straight out in front of him, incredulous look plastered on his face. "Alien replicant?"

He slammed his book shut, figuring that any hope of reading or studying was nothing more than a pipe dream at that point. "Okay, either shut it or I'll call your parents and have them block Syfy on every TV in your house," he practically growled out, glaring at his best friend.

The smirk Carlos wore was pure ego and victory, chin jutting out as his dark eyes twinkled. "Nice try, but you can't call them 'cause you don't have a phone." The "nerner-nerner-neeenerrr" went unsaid as he ripped off a piece of corndog.

It was Kendall's turned to smirk like a champ, tossing his book aside before reaching into his pocket and slipping out his cell. He held it up for the shorter male to see, reveling in the sight of that cheeky grin disappearing, lips forming an "o" as he gasped.

Then he just looked confused. "They still make flip phones?!"

"And flip phones still make calls," the taller teen stated cockily, obviously having won.

"Okay, fine, I stopped," Carlos pointed out, sounding defeated, head hanging as he sighed.

Kendall couldn't help but chuckle as he slid his phone back into his pocket before drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, hands clasped tight. Out the corner of his eye, he saw his best friend lifting his head, realization dawning on his tanned features.

"Wait!" he cried out, spinning on his butt on the grass to face the other male, tray of half-eaten food managing to remain balanced on his lap. "If you have a phone, you can call James!"

The blond's eyes turned down at the corners as he stared forlornly at the dying grass a foot or so past his toes. "Still don't have his number," he mumbled, reluctant to admit it. He felt like a class-a jackass for not having those all important digits that allowed him to contact the guy he was—

He frowned. The guy he was what? They weren't dating, at least not as far as he knew. Dating involved actual dates, and the only time they'd done something remotely close to that was dinner with his assistant and bodyguard in tow. "The guy he was sleeping with" didn't seem to fully encompass the vast range of emotions James brought out of him, so that term was written off as soon as it was thought up.

He definitely wasn't in love with him.

At least he didn't think he was.

But no matter what label their relationship had, Kendall still felt as though he should know the number of the guy who'd broken down most of his barriers and climbed his way into his heart.

If he wasn't too busy punishing himself by trying to forget the guy, anyway.

"Oh. Right." Carlos' face fell, lips twisting in a mix of pouting and thinking, before he turned to his best friend with a puzzled look on his face. "How'd you get it in the first place?"

"He emailed it to me," the blond replied, feeling like he'd already told the Latino that. Although with his best friend's memory and attention issues, it honestly wouldn't be all that surprising if that fact had been forgotten.

"You still have the email?"

Oh for fuck's sakes.

He truly was a fucking moron. He hasn't even thought about that, had been too wrapped up in his depression, mind too busy with thoughts of how he couldn't communicate with James then deciding he wasn't gonna get in contact with him even if he could. He had totally forgotten about that original email that seemed to start the whole thing and get the ball rolling. Stupidity didn't even cover it when he realized that Carlos was the one who'd figured that out. Nothing against his best friend, but the guy wasn't the sharpest knife in the drawer.

But really, it would just be so quick and easy for him to go to the computer lab, access his email, and type the number into his contacts on his new—and hopefully temporary—cell.

Only he wasn't gonna do that.

"Yeah, I guess, but. I'm not gonna look it up. I just—" he paused, grimacing as he rubbed the back of his neck, trying to figure out how to explain his current situation in a way his best friend would understand. "I'm doing this new thing where I actually go along with my mom's punishment and start following the rules and stop being a dick."

Carlos' eyes went wide as he leaned back, pointing a corndog at the taller male in an accusatory manner as he screamed. "Alien robot replicant!"

"Carlos!"

He sat normally, biting the remaining piece of corndog off its stick, looking puzzled and acting like he hadn't just claimed his lifelong best friend had been replaced by an extra-terrestrial of some form. "What?" he questioned, sounding clueless as ever. At least he kinda sounded it, given the fact that he was talking with his mouth full once again.

Kendall could only sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It's just weird for you to actually, like, behave," the Latino pointed out, dubious, head shaking rapidly in confusion.

"I know. But," he paused, sighing as he picked at a frayed string on the hem on one leg of his jeans. "Like I said, I've realized what an asshole I am and I need to improve a lot in order to justifiably deserve having such great people in my life."

Carlos' eyebrows practically shot up to his hairline, dark eyes going wide. "Wow. I—" The shock remained on his face as his mouth made like a goldfish. A few seconds of this and he finally snapped out of it, shaking his head to clear it and get with the program. "Alien replicant or not, I like this new Kendall."

A small hint of happiness tugged up the corner of the taller male's lips, actually feeling glad that he was doing something that made him likable, rather than purposely being a dickhead and pushing people away. "I kinda do, too," he admitted lowly, resting his chin on top of his knees.

"Does James have anything to do with this?"

He winced at the name, heel of his hand absently rubbing the center of his chest, trying to lessen the pain he'd been feeling since he got in that cab back in Phoenix. He wondered if it'd ever go away. He figured it wouldn't.

"Yeah," he answered softly before continuing at a more normal volume. "I just realized he's more perfect in person than any li'l fangirl imagine and he deserves way better than some douchebag teenager who puts his mom through emotional hell and takes advantage of his best friend's loyalty. So as part of my own personal punishment, I'm refraining from contacting him and trying not to think about him."

Carlos snorted, the reaction more appropriate than he probably realized. "Good luck with that."

The blond let out a humorless laugh of his own. "Thanks. I need it cause I'm shit at it so far."

Silence descended on the two of them, Carlos finishing his food and putting his tray to the side, Kendall staring at his right hand as his fingers rubbed the bandana on his left wrist. Wearing the item James had given him was more than likely a terrible fucking idea, especially when he thought about the motives and meaning behind the gift. It'd become a physical reminder of their time together, a visualization of the pain he was feeling inside now that it was over. It was no longer just a piece of James he was carrying around with him; it was a scar.

But as bad as it hurt to see it adorning his wrist, it was nothing compared to the thought of not wearing it.

"Soooo," Carlos dragged the word out, his usual habit when reluctant to say something while knowing he needed to say it for whatever reason. "What happens when you're un-punished? Cause we both know your mom won't actually ground you forever. But, like, what will you tell James? Won't he be pissed or upset that you didn't talk to him for however long?"

Kendall frowned at that, the thought never really having crossed his mind. During his internal discussions and reasonings behind his new behavior, not once had he considered how the singer would feel about it and what he'd be going through. Pretty fucking selfish of him really. After all, the pop star was a person, too, complete with feelings of his own—albeit hidden ones, but they were still there. And he'd even admitted to the blond that he didn't wanna lose him, that he was starting to actually feel things and that he didn't want that to go away. Yet there Kendall was, leaving him in the cold, just like he figured the brunet would do to him.

Guess he'd been wrong during the whole trip. He really was the one who'd be leaving their relationship.

"Probably," Kendall admitted, watching his thumb rubbing over the black bandana. "But hopefully he'll just move on and get over me."

Something broke inside his chest at the thought of James moving on to someone else, but he knew it was for the best. He'd put himself through the worst kind of emotional pain and torture every hour of every day if it meant the elder male would have a happy life.

A happy life that didn't have an emotionally damaged, assaholical teenager tagging along.

Carlos' lips twisted to the side, brow drawn, totally not believing it. "Seriously?"

'No.'

"Yeah." He cleared his throat to remove the lump that had formed in it. "Dude, like I said, he deserves better."

The Latino still looked skeptical as he stared at his best friend. "So this whole self-improvement thing—?"

"I'm still gonna do it," the blond interrupted, lifting his head and looking at the shorter male. "Become someone better and more deserving of the people in my life but—" He trailed off, trying to figure out where he was going with that thought.

"But?"

Turning his head, the blond stared out in front of him. The car park below was full of random vehicles, but he didn't see any of them. His eyes were scanning over the other students scattered throughout, noticing how they were paired off: the quarterback holding hands with the cheerleader, the emo-kids with their black hair and matching hoodies, the guy in the baby blue polo shirt making out with the girl in the pink pastel sweater. Each of them belonged with their partner, their looks making it obvious as to why they were a couple and how perfectly they worked together.

He didn't have that with James.

James was bright lights and flash photography. He was the stars and the sun and even the moon. He was the flame, the world all moths, and he attracted everyone and everything. He was beautiful, confident, the stereotypical leading man in the rom-com movie with the shiny teeth and flawless tan and perfect hair. He was a Greek god on earth, a living breathing statue of what beauty was.

And Kendall was... Kendall. He was darkness, screaming vocals and chugging guitars, a stark contrast to the dancing beats and high vocal range of James' music. He was anger and resentment and everything negative. And yeah, James wasn't perfect, had his issues and could be a jackass at times, but not to the same level as the blond. James was up on a high pedestal, while Kendall was lucky if he was even hanging out at Lucifer's place.

He sighed harshly, hugging his knees tight to his chest, chin resting on his knees. "I feel like no matter how great or perfect I may become, I still don't deserve him," he admitted lowly. "He should have someone without abandonment issues or illegal habits, someone on his level and not a teenager from Bumfuck, Minnesota."

Carlos slowly nodded, frown on his face, the same one he wore when concentrating on algebra homework he didn't understand. "So," he started then paused, pouting for a brief moment before he continued. "Along with being grounded and no technology, you're adding in the punishment of not talking to the guy you're, like, way into and wanna read all about him moving on to some other person?"

"Yeah. Something like that."

The Latino snorted, rolling his eyes. "That's a stupid plan."

Kendall shrugged as best he could, disagreeing completely. "He shouldn't be with me," he pointed out, ignoring the ache in his chest and the knots in his stomach as he spoke. "He'll realize how much better off he is without me around and how much greater his life would be with someone else."

"I disagree. I think you're better than anyone else he could ever be with."

The blond scoffed, rolling his eyes, dismissing the compliment. "You're biased."

The Latino shrugged one shoulder, small smile tugging up the corner of his lips. "Maybe. But I'm still right."

He sighed as he stared out at the school, muttering to his best friend. "Whatever you say, Litos. Whatever you say."

Kendall's shift at Sherwood's was just as monotonous as always, the kind of repetitive bullshit he needed. He was in danger of slipping into that zombie mode he had a habit of going into over the summer, but he just couldn't really bring himself to care. Which just added to the whole "zombie mode" thing. Whatever.

He shut the inner-door to the garage behind himself, hand raising to his head in an automatic motion of swiping his beanie off, only to remember he wasn't wearing it. Because he didn't have it. James did.

Maybe Zombie Mode wouldn't be so bad if it meant he didn't have any more depressing thoughts about singers he couldn't have. Or rather, did have but not anymore.

Whatever. Point was he was alone once again and the person he wanted was half a country away playing a show in Albuquerque.

Shoulders slumping, Kendall shuffled his way further into the kitchen, eyes trained on the ground. He just wanted to shower, get in bed, and sleep for, like, a decade.

"Hey, sweetie."

Or he could stop and talk to his mom.

He quit his motions, lifting his head and turning to her. She was on the other side of the breakfast bar, smile on her face, worry lines evident around her bright eyes. Both hands were covered in pot-holders, the spicy scent of a roast baking in the oven.

"You're just in time," she announced, checking a timer on the counter. "Dinner should be done in about five minutes."

He hid the grimace, stomach churning once again. He'd eaten a protein bar during his break at work to silence the grumbling coming from his abdomen, but other than that, he hadn't actually consumed anything. Yet he still wasn't in the mood to change that and actually eat something, body too tired to work up the energy necessary for chewing. Or the energy to actually give a fuck about the fact that he was essentially starving himself. All he could think about was getting ready for bed.

Licking his dry lips, he once again hid what he was feeling, forcing the corner of his lips to turn up. "Not hungry."

His mom's brow furrowed, lips pinched, mitt covered hands on her hips. "You sure?" she questioned, worry leaking into her words.

"Yeah."

Her eyes narrowed as she analyzed him, the blue orbs moving all over his face, searching for evidence of... well, whatever she was hoping to find. "Are you on drugs again?" she accused, voice higher than usual. "Are you high? Or stoned or whatever?"

Kendall's head slightly tilted back, frowning. Most moms would ask if their kid was sick, not feeling well, if they'd already eaten. Other mothers would be fussing over their child, hands flitting as they checked temperatures, looked for lesions or bumps or rashes. Not his mom. No, she immediately went the drug route.

'Can you blame her ?'

'Touche.'

He rolled his eyes, adjusting his falling strap on his backpack as he fully turned to her. He leveled his gaze on her's, letting her see that his eyes were clear, pupils not dilated, no redness, and that he was completely fucking serious as he spoke. "Mom," he started calmly, rationally, evenly. "If I was stoned, I'd have the munchies and would currently be snacking as I waited for you to finish dinner."

She kept the analyzing gaze on him, lips twisted before finally letting out an "all right". Dropping her hands, she glanced at the timer then focused on her son once more. "So, no drugs?"

"No drugs, no drinking, no out all night partying, nothing."

And he meant it, too. Partying had lost its appeal sometime during the summer, along with getting high. And while getting so drunk he was blitzed off his ass and couldn't remember why he was so bummed out seemed tempting, he wasn't gonna do that—not anytime soon anyway. But being social just wasn't something he was interested in anymore, unless it was to talk to—

Okay, he seriously sucked at not thinking about James.

His mom's eyebrows raised at his statement, eyes a mix of shock and being impressed. For the second time that day, it seemed like he'd stunned her silent.

For a moment anyway.

"Wow," she managed to get out, stuttering out a few "I-I-I"s before finally being able to get her tongue to work properly. "I have no idea what exactly happened in California to inspire this change in you, but I'm glad for it," she admitted. Raising a hand, she pointed a mitt-covered finger at him, her tone changing to the serious disciplinarian one she used far too often on him. "But only if you keep it up and it isn't just some phase or a bunch of lies in order to get outta being grounded early due to good behavior."

He held his hands up in innocence. "It's not." Only a half-lie, since the whole "getting off grounding early" thing wasn't his main motivation for turning his life around. Dropping his hands again, he continued. "I really am changing, promise."

She slowly nodded, taking his words in, her face showing that she was mulling them over and storing them for later use. "Good," she commented, voice still stern. The buzzer on the timer sounded out and she stepped back, opening the oven and sliding out the pan. "Ya know," she started, setting the cooked roast on top of the stove before closing the oven door. "My mom always used to say that our kids give us what hell we gave our own parents, only ten times worse."

Kendall's eyes went wide at that, panic setting in. He'd put his mom through the worse kinda hell he could imagine, caused her to lose not one but two husbands, disappeared for days at a time and worried her sick, only to come home hungover and reeking of pot. Then there was his shit grades, his amazing ability of getting suspended over stupid shit, his habit of smarting off to any form of authority. The fact that he'd managed to keep his job was somewhat of a miracle, but he chalked that up to just wanting money. How else was he supposed to pay for all that pot?

Point was, he did all that shit to his mom, and if his grandmother was right, he was in for a whole lot worse from his own kids.

"Well, that officially settles it," he began, hands on his hips. "I am never having kids. Ever."

His mom stopped carving into the roast, turning her head and giving him a "get real" look. "Sweetie, you're only seventeen," she pointed out, refocusing on what she'd been doing. "You might not want them now, but you may change your mind when you get older, find the perfect guy and get married, decide to raise a family."

He opened his mouth to tell her that he'd already found the perfect guy, only to stop himself. She had a point. He was only seventeen. Chances were what he felt for James was just typical teenager puppy love type shit, the kinda love that you thought was perfect and forever, until it ended and you were left crying into a tub of ice cream as you sat in bed surrounded by tissues and godawful romantic-comedy movies, then a week later, you'd moved on to someone new who you believed you were in perfect forever love with, just like the last one.

His chest got tight at that, thinking that wasn't entirely true, that what he felt for the singer went beyond immature behavior and underdeveloped emotions. Besides, lots of people found their soul mates at this age. Maybe it wasn't all that common, but it still happened. How many times had stories been told of people marrying their high school sweethearts and low and behold, they're off celebrating their fiftieth wedding anniversary, still as in love as they had been during prom. So it was entirely possible that he and James could have that forever kinda love, with vows and rings and silver anniversary parties.

Just not with kids.

"Never gonna happen," he argued, shaking his head as he folded his arms over his chest. Jaw locked, he gave her a serious look, letting her know he wasn't fucking around and that his mind wasn't gonna be changed on this. She could get grandkids from Katie. In about thirty years. If Kendall even let her get married. "I mean, the getting hitched part might happen," he amended. "But the kids? No way in hell."

His mom put down the carving knife and fork she'd been using, wiping her hands on a towel before making her way over to him. A sympathetic smile was on her face, sadness turning down her eyes. It was a look he'd seen before, when he was seven and asked where his real dad was, when he was thirteen and asked if it was his fault his step-dad left. The memories had his skin going cold and his heart freezing in his chest. Those weren't things he liked his mind bringing back up, for obvious reasons.

She stopped in front of him, framing his face in her hands. Her fingers were thin, long, her skin warm against his chilled flesh. It randomly struck him how small she was, how frail she looked. Maybe because she was his mom, but he tended to forget just how tiny she truly was, her presence always bigger. Maybe it was because he had so many memories of literally looking up at her. Maybe it was because she was so strong, able to balance a demanding job and two even more demanding children. But she was only one person, a human, a petite and slender one at that, and he'd put even more shit on her by acting like such a dick over the past couple years.

Yet as she looked at him with such love and compassion in her eyes, as she held his face in her strong hands, he suddenly felt small and weak himself.

"Just because your step-dad turned out to be a prick and wasn't the best father figure in the world doesn't mean that you'll be a terrible dad yourself," she stated firmly, but with a gentleness to the words that spoke of the affection and love she had for her eldest child, despite all the bullshit of the past. "Don't worry about all that and stop letting his actions control your own life like this."

Kendall swallowed hard, unable to handle what she was saying. Because it was true. He'd spent a majority of his life allowing that asshole to affect how he was feeling about everything, control what he did. He was the reason the teenager had taken up hockey then quit, he was the reason why he'd built up so many walls and guarded himself so fiercely, he was the reason why he kept pushing people away, only to cling so desperately to James. And now, he was letting that dick affect his actions in the future, creating a fear in him that no matter how hard he'd try, Kendall would fail as a dad himself.

He felt tears prickle the back of his eyes but refused to let them fall. He didn't wanna cry in front of his mom, still had enough pride left to not let her see him be so weak. He'd been the man of the house for nearly five years now and he needed to fucking act like it.

Only it was easier said that done, given the way she kept holding him like he was delicate, breakable, the way she was looking up at him in concern and love. He needed this conversation to be over, needed to be alone so he could get a handle on the emotions that had been violently thrashing his heart around over the past few months. He needed... shit, he needed a lot and wasn't entirely sure if he was gonna get it.

At least he could guarantee getting one thing.

Licking his dry lips, he chose to ignore what she just said and make an exit. "I gotta go do homework," he announced lowly, voice rough with hidden emotions.

His mom sighed, nodding, her hands slipping down to his shoulders. She knew she wasn't gonna get any response from him, knew she was gonna be fighting a losing battle. It happened a lot between them, her saying one thing, him refusing to listen and changing the subject, only for her to get angry and change it back. It always ended in a shouting match with him storming off to Guitar Dude or Lucy's house and her screaming at him to come back. So she'd given up essentially, choosing instead to just make her point, kept silent, and hope he realized she was right.

He usually did. He'd just never admit it.

"Okay, sweetie," she replied just as quietly, hands stroking his shoulders, smoothing the wrinkles in his t-shirt. "But I meant what I said."

He nodded to show that he knew that, green eyes looking into her blue ones as she watched her own hands. "I did, too." He wasn't entirely sure what he was referring to, if he meant the no more drinking/ drugging/ partying or the no kids or maybe even both. He just knew that everything he'd said to her that day had been the truth and that he'd meant every syllable. Well, other than the part about not being hungry, but that wasn't the point.

Kissing her forehead, he stepped around her, she letting him go as he left the kitchen.