I know this didn't take me a month! Gosh this is always so hard to update! I want to get to the fun stuff!

But soon!

Until then happy friendship and meeting month anniversary to not.skipper.but.shipper which is why this update is today!

The walker created too many obstacles, other than itself just being the obstacle.

Logan's ever-growing list included going up stairs, going down stairs, and being treated like a functioning human being.

That newest addition to the list was easily reinforced.

Nobody even looked at him anymore. It had only been a few days. And all they could look at was the walker.

He was stupid for thinking Camille would act any different.

It didn't even start off normal. They certainly would not have met at his house of all places, and Camille certainly would not have been introduced to his mother could he have helped it.

Camille would not have been told the number for the Mayo Clinic. Sure, his mom had pulled her aside to make it look secret, like she hadn't done it but she did it anyway.

And finally, after his mother had begrudgingly left, the walker got in the way of him trying to kiss Camille, and when he tried to move it out of the way, he nearly collapsed.

"Logan," she said.

He did not need Camille concerned over him like this.

"I'm fine. I love you. How are you?"

"How are you?"

He was not going to tell her anything. He was fine, the walker made it look otherwise but he really is fine.

"I'm fine."

"Logan."

He moved to the couch. There, he could move the walker out of the away, and shove it as far away as possible. Like it didn't exist.

Like this was a normal date when it absolutely couldn't be because Camille had been given emergency numbers. Like she was his babysitter and not his girlfriend who shouldn't have to be concerned over him like this.

He just wanted his girlfriend to stay his unconcerned girlfriend.

"What?" he asked.

"I don't like when you lie to me."

Lying was yelling something other than the truth. And he wasn't telling her anything. So it was more of omitting the truth. Not lying.

"I'm not lying to you."

"You're not telling me the truth."

He leaned in closer to her, pulling her towards him. "Because you don't need to know it. I love you. Kiss me?"

She did.

And then she pulled away, and said, "I love you too. Which is why I want to know."

He didn't like her wanting to know. He liked kissing, then he could pretend that pulling away wouldn't mean having a conversation.

"Kiss me again."

So she did. And he reached up and held her face and they kissed and didn't pull away.

Until they did.

"I want to know what's going on."

"Nothing is going on. Can we kiss again?"

He tried to. And she moved to his other side.

"That was mean, Camille. I want to kiss you."

She moved to his other side, off the couch, and to the walker.

She held it in her hands like he was supposed to.

"You can't tell me nothing is wrong when you have a walker. Which you didn't have a week ago."

"I don't need it. My doctor is an idiot."

And she seemed to get mad at that remark, she threw up her hands and pushed the walker towards him and didn't sit down again.

"Why won't you tell me what's going on?"

Because he didn't want to, and he didn't need to. He wanted her to be unconcerned.

Ignorance is bliss and he doesn't want to hurt her.

"Because I don't want to tell you. Why would I willingly admit that I need a walker?"

She might be crying.

She is definitely crying and it's his fault, he hurt her anyway.

"Camille—"

"Because I don't care about the stupid walker! I care about you and I love you and I want you to be honest with me."

He would stand up if he was certain he wouldn't fall over.

"I am being honest."

"You think I can't tell when you lie?"

Now he could get angry too, he was allowed to anyway, wasn't he?

"It's not like Kendall hasn't told you everything anyway," he muttered.

"He hasn't. Is there something he was supposed to tell me?" she challenged him.

He really hated being on the receiving end of Camille's challenging glare.

It was better when it was someone else.

"No. He wasn't supposed to tell you anything."

"At least I know he would have been honest with me. I wish you were."

He glanced up at the clock. She got here at three. It was only three-thirty now.

And they were arguing and it looked like she might leave anyway.

"The guys are coming over later. You can stay if you want. We're watching a movie."

"That's four hours from now."

"I estimated you would've been here for more than thirty minutes."

"And I estimated that my boyfriend of three years wouldn't continually lie to me."

He didn't have anything to say about that.

"So I guess we were both wrong. I have to be at the studio anyway."

"You said you didn't work on Sundays."

"I can find a way to change that."

And she left him. Sitting there on his couch.

He heard her sniffling and maybe crying still, outside the door.

And he would get up to comfort her.

But the walker is an obstacle for many things.

He even has a new one to add to that list.

Going up stairs, going down stairs, being treated like a functioning human being, and sustaining a loving relationship with his girlfriend.

—

He was left alone for four hours.

To his shock, and for a brief depressing moment, his disappointment, he somehow didn't die.

It was a brief second of depression.

A very brief second of depression.

He was fine. He knew that, in every other sense other than health.

He wasn't suicidal.

Realistic.

"Where's Camille?"

That's Kendall's first words to him today, and it's a question. Not even a hello.

Kendall sits down on the couch next to him.

Logan wants Camille.

And he screwed that up, didn't he?

"Logan," Kendall repeats. "Where's Camille?"

He shrugged. Appearing nonchalant won't work and Kendall will know he's lying but the best he can do is try.

"She left."

"When?" he pressed.

"A while ago."

"How long of a while ago?"

Nope. He's done. Change the conversation.

"Where's James and Carlos?"

The door opens.

"The party has arrived!" Carlos announced.

And in comes James, with a haphazardly balanced assortment of chips and drinks.

"Not just any party, Loges. The super Minnesota party kings of Minnesota."

Logan laughs at the attempt of normalcy. What used to be normal. Girls and parties and Hollywood chaos.

James smacks his head once he sets the chops and drinks down. "Don't laugh at the party kings. We could throw you out."

"Of my own house? I'd like to see you try."

James shrugs. "I'll try. Carlos, get the door."

Carlos throws it open.

And James is about to lift Logan up and chuck him out the door.

"James!" he yells. "Do not throw me out of my own house!"

And James laughs, setting him back down on the couch. "You said to try. Now you know I can."

"James," Kendall says.

But James ignores him and plunks down on the other end of the couch, grabbing a soda and bag of chips.

"What movie, Logie?" Carlos asks, cracking open his own soda.

Which starts to fizz and bubble over. Dripping over Carlos's hands onto the floor. The carpet.

Carlos only smiles sheepishly. "I guess that's the one we dropped on the floor, James."

But he sucks the excess soda from the lid and licks the carbonation mess running down his arm.

"Great. I just watched my best friend manhandle a soda can," Logan muttered.

"It's not manhandling, Logie. It's called tongue-handling," Carlos clarifies, taking a seat in between him and Kendall.

"Which is gross."

"You're gross."

"You just tongue-handled a soda! Your own words! Not mine!"

"Carlos, no tongue-handling." James reprimands him. "Logan's somehow a prude."

"I am not a prude!"

"Which is why I said somehow. Have you ever watched you and Camille make out?"

"Have you?" he accuses, astonished.

James only shoved another fistful of chips into his mouth. "Lots of times. You're not very discreet. Where is she, anyway?"

"Home. Maybe. Or work. Not here."

"When'd she leave?"

"Before you got here."

And this is not the conversation he needs right now. He does not need for Kendall to interject right now.

But of course Kendall doesn't care what he does or does not need.

Not right now anyway.

"How much before they got here? Five minutes? Ten minutes?"

"It doesn't really matter."

Kendall turned to him. Staring at him.

"Okay, so if it doesn't matter, how much?"

"Four hours," he murmured in response. "Roughly."

This is when things turn against him. This is when Kendall gets up and Logan can feel the anger radiating off him so much it might actually be his sole energy source at the moment.

"Four hours! Four hours!"

Kendall sighs, he runs a hand through his hair. And he yells: "Are you hearing this? Four hours? Four hours!"

Carlos whispers that yes they are hearing it.

And Kendall won't quiet down. "Are you really?"

And smacks Logan on the back of the head.

"This idiot could've died!"

And he is smart enough to refute, "Kendall you really shouldn't hit my head so hard. I'm going to get brain damage. I don't need it prematurely."

"Clesrly! You know you could've texted. I would've—"

"I can't have my girlfriend be my babysitter, Kendall!"

"You obviously need one!"

"I was fine."

"But maybe you wouldn't have been. You could've died. Had a seizure or something, didn't Dr. Jones say that could happen?"

Logan would've rolled his eyes if he could anymore.

"He did. But it didn't happen. So I'm fine. Let's watch the movie. You pick, Kendall."

"Picking the movie won't make me feel better."

"The Mighty Ducks? That's your favorite," he suggested.

"And the only one Logan won't make comments about," James added.

Kendall sighed. "Fine. Turn on the movie."

—

The movie watching went well enough.

But now he was sick of Kendall looking at him like that. Like he might die, like he might collapse.

All because he was left alone for a long stretch of time that was probably stupid of him, but what could anyone do about it now?

"I'm going to take a shower," he muttered.

Pushing himself up from the couch to the walker is more of a challenge than he needs it to be.

"But—" Carlos protested.

"But what, Carlos? We finished the movie. You don't need to be here anymore."

"Your mom isn't home yet," he replied.

Like that was a good reason for them to stay.

"She'll be back," Logan said.

She was out with work friends.

And it was one shower.

He wanted to be alone for a shower.

He deserved that courtesy didn't he? He was still a human being.

He wanted his dignity.

"We're not supposed to leave you alone," Carlos added.

"Okay, but I was alone for four hours and also completely fine."

"Because you weren't smart enough to text us to come and make sure you stayed alive," Kendall reminded him.

Logan was going to kill him.

"So what if I wasn't? You all can leave."

And maybe his anger worked on Carlos fastest.

Which meant it worked on James after a minute.

The door shut, they both left after some protesting. And maybe Kendall looked at them or whispered something because they left anyway.

But Kendall stayed.

"Logan, I'm not letting you stay by yourself again."

"My mom will be home soon."

He made a buzzer sound. "Lie. Go take your shower."

So he pushed against the walker and slowly made his way to the bathroom.

Kendall interrupted him yet again. "Uh, Logan?"

He turned. It took too much effort.

"Your braces. They're waterproof, I think, but—"

So Logan let him take them off.

And he got in the shower, letting the hot water burn him, because he lacked the muscular strength to turn the knob anymore.

-

Logan had been showering for thirty minutes.

That had to be too long to shower, right?

Kendall thought so anyway.

He didn't want to walk in on him or anything, but really, why would the water still be running after thirty minutes?

He knocked on the bathroom door.

"Logan?" he called out. "I'm not gonna come in or anything, but are you okay?"

No answer.

Maybe Logan couldn't hear him.

"Logan?"

No answer.

"Logan!"

He isn't going to get an answer, is he?

Maybe Niemann-Pick is affecting Logan's hearing, too.

"Logan!"

He bangs on the door a few more times.

He has to be fine.

It's just a shower.

Logan was left alone for four hours.

Nothing could happen now.

Kendall needed to open the door, didn't he?

Just, crack it open. Just to make sure Logan was still alive, it's not like he wants to see him naked.

He cracks the door open.

The bathroom is hot and steamy. The water is running.

And Logan should be standing.

And any second he should yell at him to shut the door.

That second never came.

Because Logan was on the floor of the shower.

Not moving. Not taking a shower.

The hot water pelted him.

And he didn't move.

Kendall needed to call someone.

Now.

911. 911.

He needed to get his phone.

He needed to dial.

He needed to turn the water off.

He needed to make sure Logan was alive.

"Hello? It's—it's my friend."

He needed to get through this phone call.

"He's unconscious. He's—breathing, though."

He needed an ambulance.

"He's sick, he's sick and he needs an ambulance."

Kendall didn't want to do this anymore.

But he had to call Joanna next.

He didn't want to do this anymore.

But the ambulance was on its way.

"Oh my god, Logan. Please, please, please don't die."

And Kendall was crying.

Even though Logan said he was fine.

He obviously wasn't fine and he was dying and he needed an ambulance.

And it was here, and Joanna was here.

And Kendall wasn't allowed in the ambulance.

He never wanted to watch this happen again.

This would not happen again.

And of it did, at least he'd be in that ambulance with Logan.

Logan would not die like this.

Logan was going to be fine.

Even if that was a lie.