Hello! Chapter 15! But before we get to that…

It (was) July 4th! (haha it's July 12) Happy late 4th to any of my American readers and Rushers!

I had a very eventful weekend.

First of all I HAD ROW 13 FLOOR TICKETS to Big Time Rush in Hershey! And James waved to me during Paralyzed! And then my (one of three) posters made Logan and Carlos's Instagrams!

So seeing the guys live for the first time ever was insanely cool. I screamed and jumped and sang at the top of my lungs for a full three hours and couldn't actually move after the concert was done.

BUT THEN EQUALLY COOL

not.skipper.but.shipper and I met each other over the weekend. Yes! We met in person, and I had all three of my colorful posters outside to help her know that yes she was pulling up to the right house.

I also called her a celebrity.

Which she totally is, she's the best and nicest person and go read her stories!!!

Now, finally, the chapter.

Might be lighter angst than you're used to from me, I'm kinda still euphoric over the whole weekend.

And also lazy so this is kinda short

Logan had never been angrier at his mother in all his life, quite possibly.

Because this made no sense. She promised him he didn't need to use the walker after they left the hospital.

So, he, naturally, and quite logically, in his opinion, assumed that he could leave the walker at his house before he had to face the inevitable questioning of his friends.

It didn't matter that he needed it. He should still be able to walk, anyway. He could still walk. Who cares if it hurts? The walker didn't take away the pain of placing one foot in front of the other.

The walker did help with his balance, and he didn't feel like he was going to face plant to his death every five seconds.

The way he was talking, thinking, he would need Senior Life Alert any minute now.

But, this wasn't important. He should still be able to walk.

He hasn't even been diagnosed for a full month. Three and a half weeks, at most.

He could not just simply lose his ability to walk, his independence, in three and a half weeks.

"Logan, honey, let's just keep it in the trunk for now."

"I don't need it," he protested quietly.

"I know," was all his mother said to him.

He didn't have a reply, just that he knew she was lying to him. She didn't know anything, or else the walker would've been discarded in a dumpster by his own efforts. And she would've let him do it.

Except, like he proved to himself, she knew nothing.

They drove to Kendall's house in silence.

In silence, there was a simple agreement.

He was not helpless, that's what he thought, and knew.

But it never mattered anymore what he thought or knew, because she believed he was helpless enough.

So, he had to use the walker a second time.

His mother quickly disappeared with the adults in the kitchen. Logan was also an adult, he realized. He didn't have to comply with her.

But Mrs. Knight hugged him, Mr. Garcia gave him an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder, and Mrs. Garcia kissed him on the cheek.

James's mother, under all that scary makeup (yes, she was scary, he had perceived her as such since he was nine years old) even smiled at him.

It all made him feel like he was nine years old again, that's for sure.

It was not the type of attention he desired, but it's not like he could refuse it.

He was not helpless, he told himself.

Still. It was hard not to feel like that.

He, after all, had just a few hours ago, been given a walker.

One of the wheels was squeaky and it bothered him immensely.

Namely because it attracted attention. And it alerted people that he was approaching.

The guys were huddled around the TV screen, Katie shoved into the side of the couch. She was acting as the fourth player in whatever video game they had started.

From the looks of it, Biohazard.

Katie sighed the minute she made eye contact with Logan. She was the only one who looked away from the screen at the noise.

That stupid, wretched, squeaky wheel.

"Oh, finally," she sighed. "Apparently I'm not a good player."

Logan gave her a sideways glance. He was sure that wasn't true.

"And Kendall keeps whining, because I kept beating him and James," Katie continued, an amused smirk, resembling her brother's, on her face. Her voice was sing-song.

Boy, Logan knew she got a kick out of that.

Kendall, not so much.

"You did not beat us! You looked at my screen, cheater!" Kendall exclaimed.

"Screen looker!" James agreed, with an accusing stare.

Katie passed the controller to Logan.

Only then, did her gaze linger on the walker.

"Are—"

"Katie!" Logan hissed at her.

For once, she actually looked taken aback by his tone. Hurt.

What had Mrs. Knight and Kendall told her, exactly?

"Please," he said more quietly. "I'm fine."

She closed her mouth, biting down a refute, he knew it. Kendall had the same expression.

Though, Kendall had a short temper and never stayed quiet for long.

Katie seemed to be picking it up.

"You're obviously not."

"They made me walk with this out of the hospital," he insisted.

"And who made you walk with it here?"

The words my mother were right on his tongue.

But it's not like he said them.

"Right," Katie said. "You're fine."

Why did he feel so terrible?

Katie walked off, and Logan tried his hardest, his absolute best, to sit down on the couch and keep attention off the walker.

It worked, and that was good, and he was happy.

But he still felt terrible.

So, not really happy at all.

--

His mood got worse as the guys slowly turned their heads from the screen.

It started with a glance from Kendall, who could probably see the walker out of his peripheral vision.

"Logan?"

No.

"What, Kendall?"

But Kendall didn't say anything. For once.

That was good for the time being but ultimately horrifying because Logan knew Kendall was never quiet. That would mean something is severely messed up.

What's severely messed up is his joints and muscular and general functioning, but that's not the point.

Then, James moved to sweep a hand through his hair.

And he saw it, too.

"Logan?"

If everyone could just stop saying his name like that. Then everything might be fine.

Carlos was the last straw.

Everything was not fine.

"Logan?"

Logan was going to kill all three of them. All because of the stupid walker.

"Logie, what's that for?"

No, Logan was going to kill Carlos, because he, unlike the other two, didn't have the sense to not ask questions.

"What do you think it's for, Carlos?" he spat.

Logan wasn't looking at Carlos's face. He couldn't see Carlos's likely wide brown eyes, full of fear at the sudden change in his friend's attitude. He couldn't see how Carlos's eyes would dart between Kendall and James, not knowing what to do. He couldn't see how Carlos's lips curled together tightly because he didn't trust himself to say anything.

But he did see how Carlos reached up and readjusted his helmet.

He didn't care.

"It's to help me because I can't even walk properly," he continued. "And I obviously need help."

"Logan," Kendall cautioned.

"What?" he asked. Like he hadn't done anything. "That's what it's for."

"You don't have to say it like that," James argued.

"Shut up."

"Fine."

So Logan is silent.

What does he have to say?

He's right, after all. He was telling the truth.

It didn't really matter that he wasn't being nice about it. It wasn't a nice truth.

Because it just meant he was one step closer to dying.

And it's not like anyone wants to hear about that.