Hi, everyone. I am so terribly sorry for how long it has taken me to get this chapter up. You can all thank winterschild11 for this extra long chapter, haha.

I hope you enjoy. :) And sorry in advance for all the angst.

Trigger warning for mentions of suicidal thoughts.

Kendall couldn't remember a time when he had felt more hopeless. Which said a lot, because there had been a lot of moments throughout his life in which he had lost hope, in one way or another. He knew he should be feeling relieved. He should be feeling hopeful. His father had been caught, after all, and it was only a matter of time before Trey was too. He was no longer in harm's way, and neither was his mom or his little sister or his three best friends.

At least, that's what everybody kept telling him.

But the truth was that no matter how many times they told him this or some variation of it, he couldn't bring himself to believe them, because far too often, with getting his hopes up came great disappointment.

The past week had made that abundantly clear to him.

It was like no matter how hard he tried, he could not escape his father. He kept worming himself back into his life, turning it completely upside down, and in doing so, causing the progress he had made during his absence to deteriorate right in front of his very eyes. He knew this time would be no different. He already felt so far from the person he had been just a week ago. He felt like he was back to being eight years old again. Back to the scared little boy that had laid practically lifeless on the side of a road, not really caring if he lived or died, because dying at least meant he'd be far away from the one person who had brought so much pain upon him.

He was back to square one. It was a devastating realization. He hated that his so-called father still had so much power over him. That he could still reduce him to a fragile, broken mess, even when no longer in his presence.

He hated it. He hated it. He hated it. But, more than anything, he hated himself for letting it all get to him. For allowing his father to control him like a muppet on a string.

He thought he was stronger than this. He thought he could get through this unscathed, and maybe that was foolish of him. He should have known better after last time.

A sudden knock forced him to tear his gaze away from the white wall next to him to his hospital room's door, where Logan was now peeking his head in. He gave Kendall a small wave and a sheepish-looking smile, and then said, "Hey, can I come in?"

Quietly, Kendall replied with "Yeah, sure," and then tugged his knees toward his chest, following Logan with his eyes as he walked into the room and then took a seat on the edge of his bed.

"Is this okay?" Logan asked, hand pressed to the mattress, as if ready to push himself off in case Kendall told him to.

Kendall nodded solemnly, wanting to offer Logan a smile but finding it impossible to do so. His heart felt too heavy, too broken beyond repair. Smiling took up too much energy. Energy he did not have.

Still, he tried, but it faltered almost as soon as his lips raised up at the edges.

"You sure?" Logan asked.

"I'm sure," he said, but the truth was he wasn't really sure of anything these days.

Logan nodded, not really looking very convinced by Kendall's words. "Are you hungry?" he asked, and Kendall had to resist the urge to sigh out loud. He wasn't hungry. He hadn't felt hungry in a long time, it seemed. Everything he ate seemed to turn to lead in his stomach, weighing him down more and more.

"No," he said, not having the energy to lie to Logan.

At this, Logan frowned. "It's almost noon, and you hardly had anything to eat last night," he said, as if Kendall didn't know this already. As if that would somehow cause him to gain his appetite back.

It didn't. All it did was agitate him.

"I'm not hungry," he said, voice monotone and quiet.

"Please?" Logan begged as he reached for Kendall's hand, gripping it tightly in his own. "You've hardly had anything to eat the past few days. I'm worried about you."

You shouldn't be, Kendall thought, feeling terrible for making Logan worry. I'm not worth it. But Logan was being honest. He could see it in his eyes, in the way they scanned over Kendall, eyebrows furrowing and lips twisting into a frown. Kendall hated worrying his loved ones. They shouldn't be worrying over him. He should be the one worrying over them. It should not be like this.

He didn't deserve to have anyone worry over him. Especially now.

"Okay," he said at last, tearing his eyes away from Logan's worrisome expression.

"Thank you." While he couldn't bear to look at Logan anymore, he could still hear the relief in his voice. "I'll be back in a few minutes, okay? I'm just gonna run to the sandwich shop down the block."

Kendall nodded, and soon, he was alone once more, with only his thoughts to accompany him. James was off visiting Carlos, who was doing better but wouldn't be leaving the hospital for a few more days, unlike him, who was set to go home that very day. His mom and Katie had gone home a day prior and were being watched over by Carlos' dad, as well as his mom, who had flown in sometime in the middle of the night. For that, he was so, so grateful, because that meant they wouldn't be alone. They were surrounded by people who cared for them, who would make sure they were safe.

He wanted to be with them. He wanted to be with them so badly, but the thought of returning to the Palm Woods – to the place his father had kidnapped him from – made him feel ill. But he knew he had to go back. He knew he had to set aside those fears, somehow. He just didn't know how.

Logan returned shortly after, with a paper bag in one hand and two coffee cups in the other. He handed one of the breakfast sandwiches to Kendall, before sitting down on the seat to his left and beginning to unwrap his own breakfast sandwich.

"Do you want to watch TV?" he asked after several agonizing moments of silence passed.

"If you want to," Kendall responded as he stared down at the sandwich in his hands. He had only managed a couple of bites so far, but he already felt queasy. He didn't want to worry Logan any more, though, and forced himself to take another bite while Logan reached for the remote and turned on the TV that was attached to the wall opposite of his. He flipped through several channels, until he landed on a hockey game. Kendall didn't even know which teams were playing, and he couldn't be bothered to care.

"Your mom and Katie are excited for you to get home today," Logan said, and he was now looking at him. "We all are."

Kendall opened and closed his mouth, unsure of what to even say. He didn't want to upset Logan, but it was getting harder and harder to act like things were okay when they were so far from it.

"I'm guessing you're not," Logan said, but it wasn't a question. He knew him too well.

"It's… it's not that," he said.

"Not what?"

"I want to be home, it's just… I don't know how to go back there. Not after what happened."

"Oh." Logan's eyebrows rose, realization seeming to have dawned on him. "I'm sorry. I should've realized that sooner."

Kendall shook his head. "No. Don't be sorry. It's just… it's hard to explain."

"It's okay," Logan said, reaching over and placing a hand on top of Kendall's. "You don't have to. I mean, you can, if you want to, but you don't have to."

At Logan's words, Kendall's eyes started to get misty. "I'm just scared," he choked out, his voice shaky and uneven. "I don't know what comes after this. I don't know how to move on from what's happened. Any time I think about going back to the Palm Woods, about going back to our room, I feel sick."

"I know," Logan said, his hand tightening around Kendall's. "You don't have to sleep there if you don't want to. We can figure out something else, okay?"

Wordlessly, Kendall nodded.

"It's gonna be okay, Kendall."

He wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe that so badly, but he couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to.

"I'm just so tired," he whispered. "And I'm scared. I'm scared things will never get better."

"They will," Logan said, "but know that nobody's expecting you to be over what's happened."

"I'm sorry."

Logan's eyebrows furrowed. "Why are you sorry?"

Kendall swallowed before answering, unsure if he should voice his thoughts out loud. "I feel like such a bother."

At this, Logan's frown grew in size. "Kendall, we love you. You are not a bother."

Kendall wanted to argue that he was, but he was too tired. His head was starting to hurt and his throat felt like it was closing up as tears welled up in his eyes. He wrapped his sandwich back up and set it on the table next to his bed, appetite non-existent. He knew Logan wouldn't be happy with him, but he could not bear to stomach any more of it.

"I'm sorry," he said again and watched through blurry eyesight as Logan lifted his hand, pressed it to his cheek, and wiped at the tears that had managed to fall. Logan was too good. He didn't deserve him.

"It's okay, Kendall," he whispered.

It's not. It's not okay, he thought, but he couldn't find his voice. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. The two words echoed in his brain as he leaned into Logan's touch, his eyes slipping shut.

He felt Logan push him back against the bed and didn't fight it. Felt his hand drop from his face as he tucked his blanket around him. "Rest," he said, leaving Kendall no room to argue. "I'll wake you up when it's time to leave."

"Okay," he tried to say, but the word came out more like a whimper. He curled in on himself, sniffling softly as he felt Logan's hand tangle in his hair, massaging at his scalp until the darkness finally dragged him under.

It was almost five in the afternoon when he awakened to someone gently shaking his shoulder. He pried his eyes open, and then closed them again, the ceiling lights making his eyes water. He groaned as he raised a hand to shield his face, but it was pretty much pointless.

"Sorry. I forgot to turn the ceiling light off," James said from somewhere to his left, hand steady where it rested on his shoulder. "Give me a second." He heard the sound of shuffling feet, and then the brightness from the ceiling lights was gone. "Is that better?"

Kendall nodded as he turned to face him. "Thank you."

"Yeah, of course," James said. "I'm sorry for waking you up. It's just, it's almost five, and the doctor popped in a little while ago and said he was gonna come by to check you out in a few minutes. He said you should be able to go home after that."

"Great," he said, plastering the best smile he could muster on his face.

Not long after that, the doctor showed up, and he was given the okay to go home.

"We brought you a change of clothes," Logan said as Kendall swung his legs over the side of his hospital bed, his sock-clad feet meeting the cold floor underneath them. He watched as Logan reached for a bag that was laying by his feet and pulled out a T-shirt, a pair of joggers, and a hoodie. "I hope this is okay."

"It's perfect," Kendall said, taking the clothes into his arms. "Thank you."

Logan hesitated before asking, "Do you need any help?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm okay."

"Are you sure?" Logan asked worriedly. "Your ribs are still healing. At least let me help you with the shirt and hoodie."

With a sigh, Kendall placed his clothes next to him on the bed and allowed Logan to help him shed off the hospital gown and change into the T-shirt and hoodie combo.

Once he had fully changed, he gave Logan a wobbly smile and said, "Okay. I'm ready." He wasn't really, but it was not like he had much of a choice. He had to go home – or to the place that had once felt like home. He wasn't sure if it would still feel that way after what had happened, and that thought terrified him, but it wasn't like he could avoid it forever. Being in the hospital really wasn't much better, especially now that his mom and Katie had left. He didn't like being away from them, even if he was reassured constantly that they were safe. It simply wasn't the same.

"Can we go see Carlos before we go?" he asked when they were halfway out his hospital room's door.

From behind him, Logan said, "Only if you stay in the wheelchair."

"But I don't need the wheelchair. I can walk just fine on my own."

"Kendall, Carlos' room is a floor above us. You are not walking that far."

"But I'm fine."

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but Kendall, you should listen to Logan."

Kendall looked up at James, frown already on his lips. "I thought you'd be on my side."

"Sorry, buddy. You need to take it easy. Give your ribs the chance to heal."

Easy, right. "Fine," he said. As stubborn as he was, he knew they wouldn't give up that easily either. And he really just wanted to see Carlos. He needed to see Carlos, even if seeing Carlos forced to sit still in a hospital bed, looking like all the energy had been drained from his body, made him feel physically ill with guilt.

"Thank you," Logan said, and then went on to push him down the hallway. Soon, they reached the elevator. As it ascended, Kendall closed his eyes, counting the seconds until it dinged, signaling they had reached the next floor.

This wasn't the first time he was walking – or rather, rolling – into Carlos' hospital room, and yet, he still felt uneasy as James pushed the door open and Logan wheeled him inside.

"Hey, Los," James said, being the first one to reach Carlos' bedside. "Someone wanted to say hi before we headed out."

At the sight of Kendall, Carlos raised his head from his pillow and smiled over at him, positive demeanor seemingly still intact despite the horror he had endured and still continued to endure. How Carlos could remain optimistic after what he'd been through, Kendall didn't know, but he was so glad to see him in good spirits. He had always found Carlos' happy-go-lucky personality to be contagious.

But not so much now.

"Carlos," he said, and reached for him, fingers encircling Carlos' wrist, thumb pressing against his pulse. He's alive, he reminded himself, blinking back tears that stung at his eyes. He could have died, but he's alive.

He almost died because of you.

"How are you feeling?"

"Sore," Carlos said, voice sounding groggy, as if he'd just woken up from a deep sleep. "I wish I could go home with you guys."

"Me too," Kendall said, his heart weighing heavily inside his chest. Going back home without Carlos felt wrong. He knew it was only for a few days, and that Carlos would be okay, but he couldn't help but think about what could have happened. They had been so close to losing him. He tried not to think about that, but it was impossible to push it to the very back of his mind. Losing Carlos – losing any of the boys – he didn't think he could survive that. They were his best friends, his brothers. They were the reason he was still alive. Without them, he wasn't sure he would have kept going.

"Just a few more days and you will be," Logan reminded him.

Carlos grinned. "I can't wait."

After saying goodbye to Carlos, he was wheeled out of the hospital and helped into the BTR-Mobile despite his protests that he could climb inside all on his own. As Logan drove them back to the Palm Woods, James sat in the back with him, his eyes boring into Kendall as he did his best to ignore this by staring out the window as cars whirled past them.

By the time they arrived at the Palm Woods, his eyes had grown heavy and his eyesight had started to blur. He watched through half-lidded eyes as James and Logan got out of the car and then reached for his door handle, but James beat him to it, pulling the door open.

"Here, let me get that for you," he said, motioning with his hand for Kendall to hand his backpack over to him. There wasn't a lot inside it, and therefore wasn't heavy, but James took it from him before he could protest and slung it over his shoulder.

"Do you need help getting out?" Logan asked once he reached his side of the car.

Kendall swallowed against the lump that had settled in the middle of his throat and shook his head. "No, I'm okay," he said, voice coming out quiet, barely audible, even to his own ears. "Thank you, though."

Logan looked like he wanted to insist, but after sharing a worried look with James, he took a step back, giving Kendall enough room to step out of the vehicle.

Once he was out, he felt unsteady on his own feet, like he might tip over at any moment, without so much as a warning to himself or to the other boys. Alongside the unsteadiness, he also felt nauseated, but that had been a recurrent feeling over the past few days. It seemed like no matter how much he willed it to go away, the feeling lingered, at times subdued but still very much there, like a cough that refused to go away completely. Today, it felt stronger, almost unbearable. He was surprised he had yet to throw up the little he had had for breakfast that very morning.

"Do you need a minute?" Logan asked him, but Kendall didn't say anything. He just stood with his feet planted to the ground, hands balled up into fists by his sides, nails digging into his skin. He felt like he couldn't breathe.

Logan bit at his lower lip, eyes growing sad. "Why don't you go on up?" he said to James, seeming to have caught on to what was going on inside of Kendall's head. "We'll be there in a minute."

"Are you sure?" James asked, his eyes lingering on Kendall's unmoving form for a moment, and then drifting over to Logan.

"Yeah," Logan said, and although he looked reluctant to leave, James did as he said. Once he was out of sight, Logan moved to stand in front of Kendall, whose eyes were now glassy and filling with tears.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked quietly.

Kendall's eyes were locked on the Palm Woods, but at Logan's question, they snapped in his direction. "I don't… I don't want to be here," he said as he brought a hand to furiously wipe at his eyes. And he didn't. He very much didn't. As much as he loved the Palm Woods, as much as it had become like a second home to him – a home away from chilly and familiar Shakopee, Minnesota – it was the place where his father had kidnapped him from. He knew that he was gone, knew that the chances of him making a reappearance were close to zero, if not zero. But then again, what if he did? Him being gone forever was not a guarantee.

He felt bile rise up his throat, coating the walls of his esophagus. He was going to be sick, and he hadn't even stepped foot inside the building yet.

Logan landed a hand on his shoulder again, warm and familiar and comforting. "I know," he said, voice sounding choked, as if Kendall's own words had struck a chord inside of him. "We don't have to go up yet if you're not ready. We can sit out here for a little while, if it'll make things any better."

I don't know if it will, he thought as he stared at the ground, pressing his lips into a tight line and forcing the tears not to fall. He felt bad for worrying Logan, for worrying all of the boys in one way or another. For hurting them in one way or another. Carlos had literally taken a bullet because of him. Perhaps he hadn't been there when it had happened, and perhaps it had had nothing to do with him, really, but if it hadn't been for him, Carlos never would have gotten hurt. He never would have been in harm's way to begin with.

Everything that had happened – everything his mom, Katie, and Carlos had been put through – had been because of him. In one way or another, he had caused this, and he didn't know how to live with the guilt that came with that. He knew none of them blamed him, and that somehow made things worse, because they should be blaming him. He wasn't as innocent as they thought. He never had been.

"No," he said at last to Logan, because what would the point even be in waiting when he knew being inside Apartment 2J would send him spiraling regardless of when he got there? "I'd rather just get it over with."

Logan opened his mouth, but no words came out right away. His eyes lingered on Kendall for a moment too long, as if he was trying to read him from the inside out, trying to make out what he was really thinking and see past the façade he was doing his hardest to keep up. Kendall knew he saw right through him. He knew that there was no hiding his true emotions from Logan. They knew each other too well.

Sometimes Kendall hated it.

"Okay," Logan said finally, looking unsure but knowing Kendall had set his mind and there was no changing it once he had.

He waited for Kendall to take the lead, to take the first step, as if not wanting to rush him in any way, shape, or form.

And so Kendall walked in front of Logan, body feeling stiff and head tilted downwards so that he would not have to meet anybody's eyes. The lobby was buzzing with Palm Woods residents, as usual, but they managed to make it to the elevator without anyone calling his name, though he didn't miss the pitiful looks sent his way. By now, they were all probably aware of what had happened, and Kendall hated it.

When they arrived at the second floor, he felt like he could breathe a bit easier. His airways still felt constricted, but he was relieved he hadn't had to face anyone on his way to the apartment.

As soon as he made it inside of Apartment 2J, he was greeted by the sight of his mom and his little sister. They were sitting on the living room couch, a movie Kendall did not recognize playing on the TV in front of them. Carlos' parents were in the kitchen – Carlos' mom seemed to be busy making something on the stove, while his dad cleaned the dishes. At the sound of them entering the apartment, they all turned to look over at him, making Kendall wish he could vanish into thin air.

"Baby, you're home," his mom said from where she sat on the couch, leg raised on a pillow. She smiled over at him, patting the empty spot next to her.

Katie had an equally big smile on her face. She got up, walked toward him, and grabbed his hand, pulling him along with her. "Come sit, big brother," she said, giving him no chance to say no. He followed her lead and sat on the couch, wincing as his ribs ached in protest.

They were all so happy to see him, and he didn't understand it. Still, it felt nice to be close to them, to be able to see them with his own two eyes and know that they were really okay.

Or as close to okay as they could be, he supposed.

That night, he did not sleep. Not because he didn't want to but because his brain wouldn't allow him to. Any time he closed his eyes, he was back with his father with no way to escape. He awoke multiple times throughout the night, breathing labored and in a panic. He had decided to sleep on the couch, because he knew sleeping in his room would just make things worse. James and Logan, not wanting to leave him alone, had decided to stay with him. Neither of them looked very comfortable, as the couch was not big enough for all three of them, but they refused to leave his side, and while Kendall was relieved to not be alone, he also felt guilty.

"Hey, you okay?" Logan asked, half asleep as he reached for Kendall in the dark.

"Fine," he said, though he felt anything but fine. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be anywhere, really. He couldn't escape the nightmare he was living in, not even in his sleep. He was doomed to relive what had happened to him over and over, just like when he was little. It seemed like things would never get any better.

"You can talk to me," Logan said softly, giving Kendall's knee a light squeeze. "I'm here, whatever you need."

At Logan's words, Kendall choked on a sob. He heard more than saw Logan move to sit on the floor, right next to him, pulling him into a hug despite the awkward angle they found themselves in.

Sniffling, he clung to Logan, his hand fisting Logan's shirt, tears dampening the material.

From the other side of the couch, James stirred, and soon, he had thrown his blanket to the side and scooted closer toward him, pulling Kendall's legs on top of his lap.

"Kendall. Hey, what's wrong?"

Kendall shook his head from where he had it buried against Logan's shoulder. What was he even supposed to say to that? Nothing was wrong, yet everything was, and that probably would make no sense to either of them. It barely even made any sense to him.

"I don't want to be here," he choked out at last, gasping for air that seemed to refuse to enter his lungs.

"At the apartment?" James questioned in confusion.

Kendall shook his head. "I don't want to be here," he repeated, and felt Logan stiffen against him, hand stilling where he'd been rubbing his back in gentle circles.

"What?" he choked out.

Kendall didn't answer.

"Kendall."

Once again, he didn't answer.

"Kendall." This time, his tone was more urgent. Panicked.

When Kendall refused to raise his head, Logan pulled away, keeping him at arm's length but using his hand to tilt Kendall's chin up so that they were eye to eye. "What—What do you mean by that?" he questioned, eyes wandering over Kendall's face.

Kendall sniffled, pulling away from Logan's grip and looking the other way. "Nothing," he said, tears still falling down his face despite him doing his best to get them to stop.

"It didn't sound like nothing," James said, voice shaky and uneven. "Kendall, if you're having those kinds of thoughts again, you have to tell us."

Those kinds of thoughts. Again.

Because this wasn't the first time he had wished he had died. Nor was it the second or the third, or even the fourth. He had been having these kinds of thoughts ever since he was a little boy, and for some time, things had gotten better. They had become less frequent, more subdued, almost non-existent. To the point that if he tried hard enough, he could almost forget that anything bad had ever happened to him.

Almost.

But now, things were different. He was fragile, broken, lost. Gone was the leader the other boys had once looked up to, though the more he thought about it, the more he realized that person likely never existed at all.

He was never fearless. He was never brave. He was always a mistake. A mistake that never should have existed to begin with because all he did was hurt everybody he cherished and loved.

He balled his hands into fists, gaze unwavering as he refused to look James and Logan in the eye. "I'm fine," he said, trying to sound convincing but clearly failing.

"You're not," Logan said as he took Kendall's hands in his own. "You're not fine, Kendall."

He didn't even know what to say to that. He wasn't sure anything he said would even matter at this point. All he knew was that he was tired of this life. He was tired of putting up a façade, of having to act like he was brave and courageous when he felt like he was falling apart at the seams.

He was just so, so tired of being alive.

Logan tugged him toward him, and he couldn't do anything but fall limply against him, eyes sore and throat aching.

He wanted out. He wanted out so badly.

But he wasn't sure how he would ever escape this nightmare when his own mind wouldn't even allow him a moment of peace.

He was trapped, and he knew it.

There was no fixing this.

There was no fixing him.

Kendall will get better, don't worry. He is just… going through a lot, to put it lightly. I don't want to sugarcoat his struggles or minimize them in any way. He has been through something traumatic, and that's gonna stick with him, but that doesn't mean things won't get any better for him eventually.

Thank you for reading. :)

~ BigTimeRush-BTR :)