How To Tell You've Fallen In Love

By: Riley

Summary – How do you know when you've fallen in love with your best friend? When it's a guy and a girl, it's easy. When it's two guys…well…it's very complicated…Kames

A/N: This is when they're in Minnesota, they're taking a vacation back there.

How do you know when you've fallen in love in with your best friend?

Are there suddenly hearts floating around as cheery, clichéd, orchestras start to play? Is it when you suddenly feel very happy all the time and no one's bad mood can bring you down? Is it when you want to spend all of your time with that one person because they make you feel happy?

Probably. But then again, the feelings like that are probably when the people that are falling in love are a guy and a girl. It's easier.

But when it comes to two guys who are best friends, it's confusing, complicated, and even forbidden.

That was the trouble with Kendall Knight and James Diamond's relationship. They were best friends and both secretly in love with each other. But because of the pressures all around them, they couldn't admit it.

No matter how much they wanted to…

James was another lost soul in a world full of fame and fortune, and Kendall found himself wanting more of him, all of him, all to himself. He didn't want to share his friend with the millions of girls around the world that had his picture on their wall. On the outside it didn't bother Kendall at all that James wanted to be so famous that everybody (ok, every girl) knew his name or wanted him. On the inside Kendall was screaming his name, wanting so much more. He called his best friend everything under the sun to hide what he really was.

A friend.

A GOOD friend.

A best friend.

A….?

Kendall denied everything to everyone.

To himself.

What he didn't know was that James was doing the same.

Why did they strive to hide something that was so obvious to everyone?

Because they believed it to be untrue.

They were both lacking in any kind on self-confidence.

To believe something was there that was worth more than they deserved would be foolish.

They knew it would only end in shattered dreams to even contemplate such a beautiful thought as…"lovers"

But thenthere were times, oh there were times when things James did seemed to say something so different then what Kendall thought to be true.

So different that Kendall had to fight to keep denying.

Words spoken, smiles given, complements handed to him as gifts, wrapped so neatly he knew they had to mean something more. All at once Kendall was giddy and terrified that the hope inside him would be crushed.

It would be gone, never to return, and so would he.

-Kendall's POV-

I guess it's funny when you leap around like a caffeinated monkey on crack. I guess it's cute when you run out of the room screaming because you thought you saw a spider the size of a popcorn kernel across the room. I guess I don't mind so much when you won't shut up at 4 am about your hair, even if I'm about to pick up the nearest lamp and knock you out myself.

You're just that kind of guy.

You can make everybody fall in love with you with a little smile, a laugh, a few words, a quick glance, or a loving tackle. (When you're not obsessing over the idea of fame.)

It's not fair.

Honestly, how dare you be so loveable?

I slip into my house after dinner, when everyone's gone their separate ways, only to be caught by my mom and told that you called. I run upstairs to my room, close the door behind me, pull my cell phone out of my pocket (it was off) and dial your number. I barely notice what I'm doing.

"Hey!" you answer enthusiastically as I bury myself under thirty layers of blankets and sheets and top it all off with a comforter. "Where have you been? I have so much to tell you!!!!!"

I hear the extra exclamation points; I'm glad you're awake enough for both of us. "Hey," I whisper, "What's up?"

I can see your grin, too, as you try to explain. "So you know how I've been talking about changing my hairstyle. I did it, it's so freaking cool. I'm so excited to show you. Can I come over?"

You breathe, and I try to get a "no" in. It very definitely isn't noticed as you start telling me how you're going to come over and you wish you could apparate or fly or teleport like Nightcrawler, and then you start rambling, and I just sigh. "Okay." And then I remind you that you have to get off the phone to get here.

You laugh that harmonious laugh and hang up on me without a goodbye.

Glancing out the window, I wait for a sign of you. I know it won't take long since you only live two streets away, and you're going to walk, because you don't have your permit yet.

I can hear your thumping footsteps as you jump every other stair before I even turn away from the window. You never really just stand; you're always moving, always a little too shaky, and a little too restless. You're always a little too something. It's almost too funny.

You're waiting for a place to go, a signal from me.

I give you a look - why aren't you already sitting right here? - And you jump onto my bed, stealing your favorite blanket and squishing closer. We've known each other long enough that this is no longer weird; it's just the way things work with best friends.

You launch into your tale of adventure, danger and tragedy, spinning images of the people you talked to, the places you saw, the feelings you wanted to let out. The way you fling your arms around is almost deadly, but I can't picture your stories without the violent motions, the captivating silences, the shrieks of laughter, of woe.

A day in your life outshines my entire 16 years, but I like it that way. (No matter how melodramatic you can be.) We balance each other out like that. You grin at me when you're done and ask how my day was.

My shoulders rise and fall slowly.

You leap sideways, pinning me to the bed. "Tell me," you whine. When I don't say anything you repeat yourself, "Tell me. Come onnnn."

I still say nothing.

Your face inches closer to mine. It's a game - whoever flinches first loses. I always lose.

You never flinch. You don't mind being close to people. It's no secret that you're a little too friendly. Whenever you make a new friend, you hug it out in happiness instead of giving a high five or something.

I flinch, but I'm still not giving in. I keep quiet. And I think I've surprised you, but you cover it well, continuing to get closer. Your nose touches mine, and you stop. I can smell the mint on your breath. I can see the stripes in your eyes, the green and brown that slip into hazel.

"Tell me," you whisper fiercely.

I'm speechless, too afraid to say anything. I'm too afraid to be so close, too shy to get closer, to surprise you again. You break into chuckles, and declare me the winner. Not what I had expected. You pull away, but not too far.

You're close enough that I can see the beginnings of stubble along your jaw line, the taste buds on your tongue as you laugh, the way your Adam's apple moves, the curve in your eyebrow that I like.

It's nice.

You press your cheek against mine, suddenly sober, "But seriously, what's up?"

I know I can't trick you with a simple, "nothing," so I don't try. "Everything? I don't know." My voice sounds scratchy, proof of the fleeing sore throat. "Just… stuff." I cringe at my vague sentences and the ellipses that seem to stretch out for years.

You smile that heavenly smile. "Yeah?" You're waiting for me to explain, to elaborate on the general wrongness of my life.

I can't. I won't. How do I explain falling for you like all of the other girls? All of those girls back in LA that is waiting to see him? I can't. "Yeah." I lick my chapped lips nervously, trying to find my words.

As usual, you discover them for me. "Listen," you start, rolling over to lie next to me, propped up on your elbows, staring at the ceiling then me. "I know it's not the usual shit, but it's nothing really fucked-up, or you'd tell me. And there's no fucking way you'd be this worked up about school, so who is it?"

I know I really only need to say one word, and that's what he expects, too. But I can't. It feels like I'm lying to him, which sucks. So I blush and tug on a sheet, pulling it over my head. "Nnnn."

"Is she cute?" you ask.

"Nnngah…"

Pulling up the sheet, you stick your head under, too. Your breath is hot on my forehead, and I'm quickly running out of fresh air. "Is it really that bad? Honestly, I'm sure I've had worse."

"It's not that," I insist, uncovering our heads and taking a gulp of fresher air. "But you probably have."

A grin spreads across your features. You roll your eyes. "So I'm cleared for staying tonight, right?"

I guess so since it's a Saturday. "Sure," I say, glad for the change in topic. "We should watch a movie."

"Ha. You don't escape that easily."

I grimace. I thought you'd say that. You know just how to badger me into revealing all of my secrets, but not this time. I shove off the mass of blankets and crawl out of bed. I didn't bother to change, so I'm still in jeans and a tee-shirt, but I'm missing a sock. Not that it matters, but it's easier to think about a missing sock than the possibility of being in love with your best friend.

You're the one who's known me almost as long as my parents have but better. You're the one who's house is my second home, who lives at my house, acting as if you were born into the family, too. (Much to Katie's annoyance.) You're the one who I can talk to without stumbling over my words. You're the one who loves me unconditionally as a friend. You're the one who I love unconditionally.

As something more than a friend.

I don't want to consider that.

You get up, following me out of my room and through the house into the basement. "It's your turn to choose."

"Is it?" I ask, distracted by my search for the remote.

You notice. "Yeah…" You're hoping that my movie choice will give you a clue.

"Why don't you pick it anyway?"

"It's your turn."

"I'll just go twice in a row later."

"No."

So you're not perfect. You're a little too particular, a little bit OCD. "Fine." I wrench the remote out from the cavern in the side of the couch. Glancing at the shelves, I try to pick out a movie we haven't seen for a while.

You sneak up behind me and put your chin on my shoulder.

I won't say anything stupid like "my heart skipped a beat," but it did pound harder.

You flop onto the beanbag chair, waiting for me to choose, and turn on the television.

I grab the nearest DVD, a cheesy musical about striking newspaper boys, and stick in the VCR. It's a good movie for tonight; I need the geekiness, relief from the stress of questions about my nonexistent love life, and you need something to drain your energy. I know how much you like dancing to musicals.

I settle into the beanbag next to yours, pressing play when the menu pops up.

You turn toward me and wink. "You always pick the perfect movie. It's been ages since we've seen this."

I shrug and wait for you to turn back to the movie. When you don't, I turn to face you, "What?"

"You rock," you say, before looking worried, biting your lower lip. Before I could ask what was wrong, you leaned in and pressed your lips against mine. And in that instant I was happy, nothing was bothering me anymore. Because I could tell that what I was trying to tell him, he was telling me in that kiss.

At this point, I think I'm okay with being a rocking best friend.

Because I knew that I would be a rocking boyfriend too.

THE END

There you go, my first Kames (KendallxJames) what did you guys think?