This is a birthday gift!
And my triumphant return to fan fiction I suppose? Don't worry, I'll disappear tomorrow probably (but I think it's been at least a year so be impressed with me)
Kendall doesn't remember him, Logan knows that. Is he going to admit that to Dr. Brennan? No.
He's not that much of an idiot.
Just slightly. Because this is totally his fault and he knows it is.
Logan shakes his head.
He doesn't even know what day it is anymore.
More than one, because he didn't get out of bed for a prolonged period of time after Kendall said what he said.
I don't know anyone named Logan.
More than two, because James has called every morning and every night. And Logan has ignored six calls.
Logan, it's James, and I know you know that. Just checking to see you're alive — and by the way if you don't text me back I'm sneaking into your house to assault you with Cuda man spray. Be warned.
But it's been more than three, because after the six calls James just walked into Logan's room. Talked to him.
You have to get out of bed, man. It's only going to get worse if you do nothing.
And Logan didn't listen because how could he?
More than four, because after James left, Logan's terrible mother came upstairs to his room with two toasts. And sat down and talked to him.
He didn't eat the toast.
She told him he would go to therapy, tomorrow.
Therapy? His mother is the one that needs therapy.
And tomorrow?
Tomorrow happened, and so did the next few days because he still hasn't done his therapy assignment.
Which was to see Kendall.
So maybe it's been a week.
No, more, because his mother told him Kendall was home two days ago.
So nine days.
It's been nine days and nothing is normal.
But he's driving to Kendall's house like it is normal. He's driving to Kendall's house—on snow covered roads in Minnesota—like he's done several times before.
But what are they supposed to do? Kendall won't want to talk to him. Kendall doesn't know him.
Logan needs to stop thinking.
Okay.
No thoughts.
Just driving.
In a car.
Remember that pretty, pretty car in their music video?
Nope. Does not compute.
Nope.
He pulls in the driveway, which isn't shoveled because Kendall usually shovels it.
Stop thinking.
He parks the car.
He steps out of the car.
The snow is slushing around in his boots already.
Which makes no sense, and that means he needs better boots.
He opens the door and walks in.
—
Kendall has no idea what to do around the house.
He's not allowed to play hockey, after this accident, but he doesn't even remember it happening so maybe it didn't happen?
And it's been over a week. He needs to get back on the ice.
He's tried to convince James and Carlos to go skating with him, and they both said no. Because that's dangerous apparently. But Carlos has a helmet.
They'll wear helmets and be safe.
No, because right now, his mother has wrapped him up in blankets and he's watching a hockey game. He can't remember what team it is—none of the players look familiar.
The door opens, and maybe it's Carlos coming to sneak him out!
He turns.
"Boots."
It's the kid from the hospital that he can't remember the name of. But the kid is wearing bad snow boots, so Boots it is.
"What?" Boots says. "I'm Logan."
So that's what his name was.
The name of the kid that was crying on him at the hospital. And he felt bad, sure, but it's not his fault he doesn't know who he is.
He did feel bad.
"Oh," Kendall says. "Well, Carlos said your name was Hortense."
Boots—Logan—sighs. "Legally, yes. But don't call me that. Can I sit down?"
"That depends."
Boots—because this is a more fun name than Logan— doesn't move closer to the couch. "On what?"
Kendall glances at the TV screen, trying to place a single face to a nameless team. "What team's playing?"
Boots—because Kendall can't place his real name—looks up at the screen too. "Maple Leafs."
Hockey pucks! (He could say another word instead of pucks, but his mom will probably yell at him). He should've known!
Well, he should've known a lot.
"Okay Boots, you can sit."
He sits. "Logan."
"Hortense."
"Logan."
"Texan."
"Texan?"
Kendall shrugs. "James said you're from Texas."
Boots doesn't look at him.
"Yeah, but I've lived here longer."
Kendall knows he's supposed to know that. He is supposed to remember Boots' name.
"I'm sorry."
Boots still isn't looking at him. "It's not your fault."
Kendall hates this.
"My head hurts."
And now Boots looks at him, all concerned. He asks him a whole bunch of questions about his symptoms, if he has any, and stands up to get him water and some food.
He can hear him splashing water and dropping things, but after getting up to help, Boots gave Kendall strict orders to sit down.
Kendall laughs.
"What?" Boots asks him, walking back over with same water and something that doesn't look like food a human should eat.
"Are you a doctor?"
Boots sets the food and water down. "I'm saving up for med school."
"So, Doctor Boots."
"And do you remember my real name?"
Kendall laughs again and smiles. Boots smiles too. "Yeah."
"What is it?"
"Dr. Bossy Boots."
—
Kendall is laughing at his own joke, and it's a little bit funny.
But Logan also might cry or stop breathing again.
So he sits down next to Kendall and fixes his gaze to the TV screen. "Okay, Kendall."
He's not going to make a big deal of this.
Kendall is trying. Logan knows he is. And anyway, Logan didn't see him for nine days.
Nine days.
He sucks.
He sucks.
"Hey, Dr. Boots?"
Logan won't correct him. He can't. He just needs to not think.
"Yeah?"
"You like hockey?"
Logan nods.
"Maybe you should be one of those medics on the ice."
No.
"I don't think so."
And Kendall looks at him with hope in his eyes. And that smirk. "I think so. Because then you would've saved me from getting hurt."
"Okay, Kendall."
And Logan stops thinking.