We Were Born To Fall

Disclaimer: I do not own Big Time Rush or any of the characters; else I'd totally be leaking that third album out to you guys.

Author's Note: In case I'm too late, MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR DEAR READERS! I'm writing this on Christmas Eve, knowing I'll never have this ready to post up by tomorrow, but in any case I just hope that you all are safe and happy over the festive period. I know that I've been terribly ignorant of my writing lately, but now that I've graduated, it's been a race going to all these job interviews (no luck yet, but holding thumbs). So this particular storyline is inspired by a movie I saw recently, so I really hope you guys like it. Please take a read and let me know what you think.

"You and I forever lover boy. Happy anniversary." Kendall smiled sardonically as he let the harsh burn of the whiskey in his mouth lace fanatically across his tongue, filling his head with the golden distilled bitterness. It had been one month, three weeks and twenty three hours since he had received that card, and he had counted every miserable second of it, every slip of time passing torturously through him like some arcane ghost of torture. There wasn't a single night since that day where his eyes, once so zealously emerald, hadn't passed across the ceiling, wondering if he hadn't tempted fate by believing in those words too much. Forever – it seemed to pass by so instantly, leaving him to wonder whether God had just ushered him into another life without his consent. It was a wonder that he still drew breath even after so much of him had left. Not physically of course – God, he wished his hurt would remain in the fleshy confines of his body. When the other half of your soul leaves, you simply can't afford anything but to count the days until you're numb. For Kendall Knight, that sweet day had yet to arrive.

His eyes turned around the walls, so full of his triumphs and yet not a single one of those could find a way to light up his life now. Award upon award, a plethora of silver and gold discs; all glistening in the late New York sunlight, all so meaningless in the throbbing wake of his heart. It was a show that the world put on for him, with his name in every sentence on the lips of countless teens across the world, all of them dying for him just to look their way with that mischievous smile he'd honed to a meticulous art. Plucked from the obscurity of Minnesota's bitter blizzards, fame and fortune had worked their illustrious enchantments to take a rather interesting turn in the story of his life. There, in the midst of all the screaming chaos he'd suddenly become accustomed to, his heart awoke from its ignorant dormancy to glow like some ethereal crimson beacon in the blush of his first love, and then his first heartbreak. It never ceased to amaze him how breathless this left him, weakly grasping for any bit of happiness he could find. "I can't be saved" he murmured headily, feeling his conscious spin in and out of reality's synch. The whiskey's acrid sympathy was beginning to take its toll on his body, so young at its first lick of proper alcohol, but what more damage could a few drops of insanity bring that the raging pain hadn't already thought of?

"This again?" The blonde felt a quiet pressure at his hips, steadying his drunken stagger before his wall of glory, gently forcing his body to yield up against the solid figure behind him. A miserable shadow of a laugh hollowed out of his mouth as he carelessly laid the whiskey glass on the table just next to him, drooping his head forlornly. These hands had known every inch of his body, but never got the chance to explore them with the racing nakedness he wanted so badly. They had hugged him for his wins, patted him on the shoulder for his losses, but never once judged him for what he was. Their touch broke past the international singing phenomenon, preferring to have the person underneath that glamour; right before throwing him to the dogs. "Yes, this again" he whispered brokenly, trying desperately to command his body into some form of show. "And it will be like this every night until you take me back Logan."

"You sound like a five year old" said the older man, slowly twisting the blonde's body around until their faces were mere inches apart. The sea of hurting green pierced through his soul, but he had to soldier on. Their time together had come and gone, and no matter how badly it hurt, he knew he couldn't corrupt this wrathful angel… not when the world was at his feet.

"Why are you here?" asked Kendall hoarsely, thudding his hands against the brunette's chest. "Is that what does it for you now? Younger guys with drinking problems?"

"If it did, you'd be naked on the floor by now." Logan shook his head. "I… I just wanted to see you one last time."

"Well take a good fucking look at your masterpiece you heartless bastard! Are you happy that-"

"I'm not happy without you." The answer was quiet and simple, but powerful enough to silence the blonde's tirade. Kendall swayed slightly in the taller man's grip, his breath coming out in quick clouds, but Logan kept his stare right on him, almost hungrily. This wasn't fair to either of them, but rather this torture than having to watch the singer's star slowly fade away to nothing. "Someday… I really pray you'll understand why a thirty-year old record manager and his eighteen-year old superstar were never meant to have all that 'happily ever after' crap."

"So that's why you sold out my contract to a bigger label" said the blonde, his breath perfumed in opulent delusion. "You did it for me."

"Yeah."
"Except you didn't give a fuck about what I wanted" he said softly. "All of this, it means nothing without you." Logan slipped his head into a nod. "You're young. You'll be OK."

"I want you."

"Let me let you in on a little secret Kendall – the world isn't as forgiving as you might think. There are people in very high places that can turn you into a god. All you have to do is-."

"Not be gay? I hate you. All of you" said the blonde, pressing his forehead into the older man's torso. Logan sighed longingly, fearing if his hold on the singer grew any tighter; his body may never want to leave. The world had dictated what their roles should be: any defiance now would be suicide in every sense. Love, or whatever crazy ride this was, was simply not enough to get them through.

"You're not even here, are you?"

"I wish I wasn't."

"Don't go."

"It doesn't matter. You keep stealing pieces of me until there's nothing left anyways. There's nothing to leave you."

OK, I finished this on the 2nd of January. But I wanted to keep this short on purpose. What did you guys think? HAPPY NEW YEAR BY THE WAY! Leave me a review (I didn't get presents this year – sad) and let me know! Ciao!