A/N: Okay, so this is a story I've been working on for a while now, and I'm not quite sure how I feel about it. I've spent a lot of time thinking about it, and how I wanted it to play out, and I think I've captured what I intended to, but I feel that some aspects could have been described a little more appropriately. I just hope everyone perceives this story as intended. This one is a bit longer than my usual stories, but it's only a one-shot. Rated M for strong language and insinuations of violence. Kendall/Logan angst and a lot of fluff, as usual. :D I hope you guy like it.

Disclaimer: As always, I do not own Big Time Rush or any of the characters involved... Although I do own a kitten who thinks he rules the world, but I don't think that counts for much. No copyright infringement intended. :D

Summary: "Alright, alright... You're safe now, and I'm going to make you better, okay? I'm gonna take care of you." He's broken, lost, and falling apart at the seams, and there's only one person who can put him back together again.

"Help me heal theses wounds,
They've been open for way too long.
Help me fill this hole,
even though this is not your fault."
-Benji Madden.

I found myself seeking him out in the dead of night, unimaginable pain overwhelming me as I stumbled down the hallway towards his bedroom. So desperately seeking him out – the promise of a warm and soothing embrace, soft words and hums of assurance and guidance, and God... this hallway suddenly seemed so endless, each step more agonizing than the last.

I tried to swallow, my mouth dry as an involuntary sob crept up my throat – the sound muddled and heavy from the strain. I couldn't think clearly, almost as though the sheer intensity of it all was consuming every last molecule in my body, screaming and pleading to just make it stop, already.

My balance faltered for a moment as I stumbled into the wall, a sharp ache radiating from the point of contact when my shoulder met the solid surface.

My mind was a maelstrom of incoherent thoughts and emotions, screaming and pleading for salvation,and making it impossible to focus on anything other than the door at the end of the hall.

I had no idea know of what to do – the only comprehensible thought running through my mind was one word, two syllables that somehow eased the pain, making every sensation a little less agonizing than I would have initially expected. Kendall.

I was soaking wet, my clothes and hair dripping the frigid water that seemed to linger on my skin, causing chills to pass throughout my body at every turn of the second. I could feel the moisture on my cheeks, as well, a slight bit warmer and, honestly, I couldn't differentiate whether it was rain, blood, or my own tears sliding down the sides of my bruised and beaten face.

I tried to take a deep breath but the constricting ache in my chest was almost unbearable, my throat collapsing as I choked and struggled catch my breath. My entire form was still doubled over, my left hand clutching at my right side as I felt the thick, warm liquid soak through my shirt, leaving a dark red impression upon my palm.

When I finally reached his door, I realized that I couldn't even gather enough strength to turn the knob or knock lightly. So I found myself leaning against the dark auburn door, my body supported by it's foundation as I rested my head against the surface and struggled to form a legible thought. "Kendall? Please..." I mumbled, an involuntary whimper escaping me. "Let me in... God, I need... I'm hurt." And the last two words were strained, with a edge of desperation that I didn't think was possible to put into words – so filled with emotion and distress that, for a moment, even I was startled by the fervency.

It was almost as though he could hear the pain dripping from every syllable as I spoke – as though he could read my mind, immediately see what had happened, and just know. I could feel my muscles wavering, nearly giving out from beneath me, and the second he opened the door, I tumbled forward, unable to maintain my own equilibrium as my entire body crashed into his. "What's goi–"

And suddenly, I was embraced in a type of warmth and security that seemed to ease some of the tension buzzing through my muscles. I was flooded with heat, so deliciously tangible that I could feel it seeping through my flesh and straight into my blood stream, coursing through my body with comfort and reassurance. He was holding me, his arms wrapped around my abdomen protectively, yet gently as he noticed the wounds and bruises that were covering every inch of my body.

I was exhausted, so emotionally and physically beaten that I couldn't fight past the cloud of lassitude that seemed to surround me. My entire body went slack in his arms, my muscles refusing to support my weight any longer as my eyes drifted shut.

"Oh God, Logan... What happened to you? Don't– No, no, no... You can't sleep, buddy, c'mon, you gotta stay away, alright?" His tone was urgent and desperate, hidden traces of fear littering certain words as he held onto me, pulling me in the direction of his bed. "Logan! C'mon, man, wake up!"

I tried to listen – tried so helplessly to follow his orders and open my eyes, but the pain was slowly consuming every cell in my body and all I could think about was the promise of an empty darkness. "Gguhn, Kendall... Hurts so bad... 'Mm hurt... Please just make it stop."

"Shh, I've got you. You're safe now... And I'm gonna make you better, alright?" He paused, for a moment, struggling as we both fell to our knees. I felt my entire body resting against Kendall's, my forehead supported by his shoulder as he assessed my wounds and offered support. His hand moved to my right side, gently inspecting the large cut that ran about three inches in length, the blood marring my torn t-shirt as he touched the wound tenderly. "Hey, shh... It's not even that bad, alright? Cut's not even that deep. You're alright, I've got you..." he mumbled and I could tell from the tone of his voice that his reassurance was an empty one. There was a fear within his words that was unmistakable, his voice quavering and I could practically hear the tears building in his eyes, sliding down the side of his face with apocalyptic meaning. Kendall never cries.

I felt myself losing control, my rationality and consciousness slipping from my grasps despite my unbridled protests. My eyelids fluttered for a moment as Kendall held onto my shoulders, shaking them gently and trying to wake me from my stupor. "Logan? C'mon, man, wake up... I'm gonna take care of you, okay? I'll get you all fixed up... and I'll be back to kickin' your ass at hockey in no time... Logan? Logan!"

His words faded as I slipped into an abiding darkness, his urgent tone leaving me broken and begging to reassure him, and God... I hated being the reason that his tone had harbored that desperate edge. And I could his voice one last time, loud and critical with fear as he buried his face into my hair. "Mom! I need... Oh, no, no, no... I need help... Please..."

I could hear a faint beeping, so quiet and contingent that it's existence alone was questionable. It went off with the accuracy of a metronome, never missing a beat and following a specific pattern. 1, 2, 3... beep... 1, 2, 3... beep... 1, 2, 3...

And ever so slowly it's tone grew more tangible – more audible and definite, because now I could actually hear it.

Almost as quickly, my other senses returned to me as well. I felt my eyelids flutter for a second, bright light penetrating my vision and causing me to groan as I clenched my eyes shut. It felt as though I was staring straight into a white light – so intense but missing that warming aspect... No, I certainly didn't feel warm. I felt cold and, oh God, every single muscle in my body was aching.

Where am I?

I swallowed hard, my throat unbearably dry as I shook my head in attempt to escape the blinding light that was surrounding me. The decision was a poor one as I felt my head protest against the movement, throbbing and pounding as I groaned once again.

"Logan?" The voice was meek and timid, almost afraid and I couldn't seem to identify it's owner.

I tried to responded but my throat was so dry that I couldn't seem to form the words. I forced myself to open my eyes – slowly and cautiously, allowing them to adjust to the searing light. What I saw when my eyes finally focused had me absolutely speechless.

I was in an unfamiliar room, and everything was so sterile and clean – white and completely immaculate. I noticed the heart monitor that was to my left, and identified the consistent beeps, still resounding through the silent room with almost a taunting aspect. Hospital. And suddenly, I was bombard with memories -- unwelcome and horribly vivid recapitulations that had me cringing.

I felt my eyebrows pull together in consideration, shaking my head to rid myself of the graphic internal images when I noticed the figure in the far left corner of the room. He was completely motionless, fear radiating off from his form as though any sudden movements would cause me to flat line right then and there. His eyes were cloudy, surrounded by dark circles that hinted at his insomnia, and they were filled with such a frantic uncertainty – his pupils wide with emotion.

I shook my head again, trying to grasp a sense of reality as I noticed the glass of water sitting on the table next to my bed. Slowly, I lifted my uninjured wrist to the glass, eagerly drinking it's sweet elixir, and really, I don't think I had ever been so happy to see water in my entire life.

My throat felt immeasurable better, and the ache in my muscles was minimal compared to the pain I now remember from... God, how long had it been since that night? How long had I been sleeping for? Hours? Days? I was consumed with anxiety as I was once again assaulted by memories of the experience I so desperately wanted to forget. I felt nauseous as that night replayed in my mind, a shudder traveling up my spine as I tried to repress every ounce of fear coursing through my blood stream.

Searching for a distraction, I returned my attention to a very skittish Kendall, deciding on humor to try and ease some of the tension filling the atmosphere as I chuckled softly. "Hey, man, you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost or something..." I mumbled, my voice still raspy as I feigned a small smile.

Kendall's expression was unreadable as he regarded me, his eyes ablaze with emotion as he leaned forward in his seat. He waited for a moment, as though processing what I had just said before a grimace passed through his expression. "What?" he whispered softly, hands buried in his hair as he looked toward the ground.

"Have you slept?" I replied, my tone eerily calm as I tried to hide the sincerity of my emotions beneath a pseudo-indifference.

"Wha–" Kendall started, his expression one of bewilderment as he sighed deeply. "Does it look like I've slept, Logan?"

I hummed softly, unsure how to address the unidentifiable emotion that seemed to be radiating off from him in tidal waves. I found myself shifting my gaze slightly, chuckling nervously as I fought against the palpable tension surrounding me. "So..." I paused. "Are you alright, then?" And the question seemed slightly ironic, given that I was the one in the hospital bed, lying broken and beaten. The need to make sure he was okay was overwhelming – a priority among other, more insignificant details.

"What's the matter with you?" he mumbled. "It's like you're– what? Evading everything. Why?" It seemed as though he was trying to contain himself, calm the raging emotions within him and steady his breathing. "I'm fine... Really, I mean, I just... love hospitals. Couldn't be better, actually. How about you, huh?" he opined, and the sarcasm was nearly staggering, so painfully obvious it felt like a slap across the face.

And once again, my only defense was to offer a nervous laugh and divert my gaze. "What are you talking about?"

Please, stop...

Suddenly, that foreign emotion erupted within him – sparks of fear and rage flying off from his entire demeanor, as though his body was an electrical conductor, fueled by adrenaline. His eyes were alight with something indistinguishable, something that could only be described as the most in-depth emotional pain that I'd ever seen another person experience. It felt like I could see straight through him, down the the very depths of where this unimaginable fear was coming from. "Why are you doing this? Wha– why are you acting like... like this is no big deal? Brushing it off as though nothing even really happened? Don't you–" He lost his train of though as he lifted a hand to his cheek, brushing away the single tear that was sliding down the smooth skin. "You could have died, Logan... Don't you get that?" he finished weakly – vulnerably – like a small child who had lost his way.

I was slightly taken aback at his words – the intensity at which he spoke them, almost as though the very thought was enough to throw him off of the edge and send him spiraling downward. I looked down, assessing the damage to my arms, legs and torso before returning my attention to him. "Yeah... I could have... But I, uh... I didn't..." I mumbled softly, my voice quivering slightly as I tried to downplay the situation. "I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Why are you doing this, Logan?" His voice was harsh and demanding, shaking slightly as though he was simply begging to understand. "Why won't you acknowledge the giant fucking elephant in the room, huh?"

I felt my control snap, the weight of everything that had happened pressing down on me and making it difficult for me to catch my breath. I closed my eyes for a moment, and was met with visual memories of the experience, a shudder passing throughout my body. "Because, honestly, Kendall? Thinking about what happened is the very last thing I want to do right now, okay? I don't want to remember... I just want to forget it ever happened because every single time I think about it... every time I close my eyes, even if it's just for a second... I relive it. I see myself in that dark alley and... I'm scared... So fucking scared, and I just want... I want you to come over here, and I want you to hug me, because I'm scared." I whispered, trying desperately to keep the tremble out of my voice. "Some... Some asshole thought it would be a good idea to threaten me at knife point just to get some cash... Do you know how much money I had, Kendall? Twelve dollars... I almost died for twelve fucking dollars, and why would I want to remember that?" I finished weakly, my voice breaking on the last syllable as tears formed and blurred my vision.

I looked down, a small sob creeping up my esophagus and escaping as I studied the tile flooring, trying to distract my mind from the brutal visuals. Suddenly, I felt Kendall gently wrap his arms around my chest, pulling me closer as I eagerly returned the embrace because, God, I need this so much.

Another sob escaped me as Kendall rubbed my back, so gentle and careful not to disturb my injuries. "Shh... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry, it's just... Oh God, Logan, I was so fucking scared... And I don't... It's like I never want to leave your side ever again, because all I can think about is... What if next time, I can't save you?" he whispered, so softly and I couldn't help but be perplexed by his words.

"It's not your job to watch after me, Kendall..." I buried my face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent and allowing it to comfort me, sending liquid warmth coursing through my blood stream.

Kendall was quiet for a moment, as though considering his next words – hesitant with a slight edge of doubt as he buried his face into my hair. "It should be..."

I felt my eyebrows pull together in contemplation, trying to identify the ambiguity that seemed to drip from every word he spoke. "What do you mean? You can't possibly be blaming yourself for this, are you? Kendall, this isn't–"

"No... No, I mean..." he paused, and I could almost feel the pulse point in his neck beating more rapidly. "I love you... and I mean, I honestly love you, Logan... that all-consuming, boundless, and unconditional love that makes you question everything you ever fucking learned, and you still wouldn't doubt it for a second..." he surmised, his voice soft and coated with hesitance. "And, you know, I can't even bring myself to worry about telling you anymore, because when you walked into my room the other night... all broken and just fucking hurt... All I could think about is... what if I never got a chance to tell you, huh? I don't think you understand how much it was killing me to see you like that..."

I felt my breath catch, taken off guard by his words and the very obvious confession he just made. I couldn't seem to grasp his sincerity as I clutched onto his shirt, pulling him closer and trying desperately to convey my uncertainty. "Kendall?" I whispered softly, his name, a single word, but it spoke volumes – every single question and insecurity was evident within my tone, so obviously fearful that I was misinterpreting what he had just told me.

And he understood, because he always understood everything about me, as though it was as simple as breathing. He tightened his grasp, a renewed confidence radiating off from his form as he saw that my reaction to his admission was positive – eager, even. He turned his head only slight, his lips linger on my temple as he kissed it gently. "Yeah, Logan... I mean it..."

"Do you realize that this is the first time he's left this room since we got here?"

The voice was a familiar one, soft and warm as I lifted my gaze to meet chocolate brown eyes that matched my own. "James? What're you talking about?"

James walked further into the room, pulling one of the chairs closer to the bed as he watched me carefully. "Two days, man... You've been out for two days straight. The doctor said something about a mild coma as a result of the head trauma..." he paused, his tone concerned. "Kendall didn't leave this room, not once."

"He, uh... he said he was going to get something to eat," I said, unsure of what to say. I was slightly taken aback by his words – undoubtedly, Kendall's determination and absolutely defiance when it came to specific situations. I could almost hear him, addressing the doctor and everyone else with unrelenting confidence – "I'm not going anywhere until he wakes up." As well as the fact that that was the first information I had received regarding my health, and the extent of the damage seemed a lot more severe than I'd initially thought. "What... what else?"

James smiled sadly, his eyes shining with his empathy. "A fractured wrist, two bruised ribs, and your side had to be stitched shut... seven stitches, I think? The doctor said something about a bleed in your abdominal cavity, but that's been taken care of... except for the bruises; they're pretty bad and probably really sore..." he swallowed hard, closing his eyes slowly. "And you're concussed. You're gonna need a lot of rest."

I diverted my gaze, nodding slowly and trying to fight past the panic that seemed to reawaken with every mention of anything associated with that night. "That's, uh... that's no good." I mumbled. "Where is everyone else at?"

"We've all been taking turns staying here with Kendall, while someone stays at home and watches over Katie... After the first night, that is; we all stayed here until the doc told us you'd be fine..." James' caring and gentle personality seemed to take over as he scrutinized my appearance. It seemed as though he was internally assessing me, silently searching for anything that he could do to ease the pain, because James always cared... he was always compassionate. "That first night, though... was awful. For everyone," he paused again, uncertain. "And, uh, I don't... I don't think I've ever seen Kendall that completely wrecked."

And the softness with which he spoke the words – the completely conviction that was almost warm in the way he delivered it – told me that he knew. He knew about everything Kendall had just confessed to me less than an hour ago. He put his hand on my shoulder, tender and reassuring as he offered a small smile.

"What happened that night, Logan?" His whisper was so softly as he approached the topic, offering verbal support as he deviated from our previous conversation.

I tried to fight past the wave of nausea that accompanied the subject as I swallowed hard, a shudder traveling up my spine and causing me to shiver. "I was, uh... on my way back to the apartment after walking to the store. When I was walking through the alley..." I paused, chuckling humorlessly. "He caught me off guard, and he wanted my money... Twelve dollars, man..." I shook my head at the absurdity of the entire situation, and it was actually enough to cause a genuine smile to fall across my expression. "He got twelve fucking dollars, and I got a busted face," I finished, gesturing toward my bruised cheek bone with a small smile, the panic easing as James chuckled at my choice of words.

"That you did, man... That you did. At least you're alright. Could have been worse..." he said, his grin turning crooked as the mood of the entire atmosphere shifted. Everything seemed so much lighter, and James had a way about him that could make almost anyone smile. His presence seemed to momentarily alleviate the panic that seemed to continually surround me and I found myself grinning easily.

"You know, I did get a few good punches in though..." I nodded, agreeing with myself as I continued to laugh lightly. "I'm not a complete invalid when it comes to defending myself," I finished with a smirk, already predicting the words that were surely on the tip of James' tongue.

"Hey, we taught you well," he teased, warmly.

And his smile grew.

"You're being discharged this evening, Mr. Mitchell... After three nights in the hospital, I bet you're happy to hear that." The nurse entered my room with a wheelchair and sweet smile, her demeanor radiating a casual compassion. She lifted the clip board from the end of my bed, assessing the information before regarding me once again. "How are you feeling?"

"Slightly better than miserable?" I teased gently with an easy smile.

She laughed, her attention focused on the papers as she scribbled. "Only slightly? Well, we'll have to see what we can do about that," she looked up from beneath her eyelashes, smiling warmly before returning the clip board to it's previous location. "Everything seems to be healing wonderfully, but I think Dr. Robbins would like to speak with you before you're discharged."

And as though on cue, Kendall entered the room with Dr. Robbins following close behind, a small prescription note in his possession. The nurse regarded them with a kind smile and nod as she removed my IV and exited the room.

Dr. Robbins studied the clip board intently for several minutes, his forehead creased in concentration and his lips set in a tight line. "How are you feeling, Logan?"

"Still pretty sore," I said, offering a soft smile as the doctor approached me.

"Any problems, today so far? Dizziness, nausea, extensive breathing difficulties?"

"Hm, nope..." I surmised, noticing Kendall in the background as he gathered my belongs, stuffing my clothes into a duffel bag and hanging it upon one of the wheelchair handles.

"Alright, well, you seem to be healing exceedingly well, and as long as you get a lot of rest, everything should be just fine. We're prescribing Vicodin to take the edge off from some of the pain as a result of the bruised ribs. Follow the directions on the side of the bottle and make sure you only take one tablet every six hours." He paused, lifting the prescription sheet to punctuate his point before setting it on the bedside table. "You're going to need a lot of rest; no sports, heavy lifting, or strenuous activities, and I'm going to need to see you again in two weeks to get your stitches removed. Other than that, I think you're good to go," he finished with a slight smile, creases forming around his tired eyes.

"Sounds great," I nodded, sitting up slowly as Kendall approached me with a black t-shirt and pair of jeans folded in his arms.

The doctor excused himself as Kendall helped me stand from the bed, his arms unexpectedly pulling me into a tight, although gentle, embrace. "I'm so fucking happy you're okay, Logan..." he whispered softly, burying his face into the crook of my neck before releasing me.

"Yeah? I suppose that's about right – without me, you'd be failing math... You need me, Kendall Knight," I teased, my eyes softening as I watched him with a crooked grin plastered across my expression.

I went into the bathroom and got dressed, allowing myself to scrutinize the damage in the full-body mirror behind the door. I knew there were going to be scars – several scars perpetually marring my body and reminding me of what happened. I shuddered at the thought – fear, like liquid nitrogen, coursing through my bloodstream at a steady rate.

When I finally opened the door, exiting the small bathroom with slow, deliberate movements, I smiled at the sight before me. Kendall had the nylon handle of the small duffel bag wrapped around his forehead, the actual bag itself dangling behind him as he pushed the wheelchair around the room, slamming it into the furniture. He looked up once he realized that I had returned, the handle of the bag sliding off his forehead and landing on the floor with a loud thud. "Logan," he said, offering a wide smile, and for the first time since I'd gotten here... Kendall looked genuinely happy. I was pleased to note that his expression – his tangible warmth – seemed to be enough to momentarily ebb my fears. "You ready to go for a ride?"

I lifted my eyebrows, looking skeptically at the wheelchair before returning my attention to Kendall. "Do I really? Can't I just walk?" I mumbled, lifting a hand and running it through my hair. "I'm fine, really... Not even a little dizzy."

Kendall's smile grew, his eyes sparkling with mischief and contentment; his entire demeanor seemed to glow, his posture radiating his renewed vigor admirably as he rolled the wheelchair toward me. "Hospital policy, man... All the way to the car."

I laughed and nodded, and for the first time in what seemed like ages, even if it were only for a moment... I felt genuinely safe.

I noticed the small article of clothing late one night, lying dauntingly upon the cool bathroom tiles. It's presence alone was enough to flood my veins with panic and uncertainty, because even from where I stood, I could see the dark red stain, so deceitfully obvious.

Blood.

My blood covering Kendall's light gray, long-sleeved shirt, and the dull color seemed to contrast wonderfully with the sickening substance.

My stomach flipped as I was hit with a sudden bout of nausea, my head aching with familiarity, because that shirt would forever be marred with the memory of excruciating pain and uninhibited fear. I could nearly feel my pupils dilate with recognition as I clutched the counter top, trying desperately to grasp a sense of reality as my fears consumed me.

I swallowed hard, allowing myself to, very carefully, walk toward the offending object. Ever so gentle, I slid down the side of the bathroom wall, resting on the floor and trying to ignore my rib's protests and the resulting ache that radiated from my side.

Once the pain had lessened, I found myself clutching the small shirt, observing the stain that covered the left side of the soft fabric. It seemed so tauntingly common, as though nothing was misplaced and it was completely natural for Kendall's favorite shirt to be veiled with such a hideous blemish. I sighed deeply, gently grazing the stain with my thumb as I used my other hand to lift my own shirt and inspect the deep wound, concealed behind a layer of gauze and hospital tape. Seven stitches were distinguishable behind the white fabric, and as though to punctuate it's existence, a dull ache shot out from the wound.

"Logan?" His voice was soft and timid, as though to soothe the proverbial ache that was a result of the past week and a half. He remained stationary in the doorway, leaning against the wooden panel and watching me with a gentle concern. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. I, uh..." My tone was slightly shaken, and I found myself coughing lightly to try and hide the tremble in my voice. "I found your shirt..."

"Oh..." Kendall's reply reminded me distinctly of a forced resignation, his expression falling into a soft frown. "What're you doing up anyways? You're s'pose to stay in bed, Logie..."

"I needed to clean my... uh, my cut," I whispered, dropping the shirt into my lap as I gestured toward my right side. "Sorry, about your shirt, Kendall... I think I might have ruined it." I found myself looking down at the aforementioned object once again, sitting in my lap and practically emitting it's ridicule.

When I finally looked up, Kendall's expression was warm and delicate with a seemingly affectionate edge. His entire disposition radiated his compassion, and despite whether I wanted to fully admit it to myself, there were hints of sorrow in his features, and I hated myself a tiny bit for being the reason such an ugly emotion would mar his naturally flawless visage.

Before I could even register his movement, he was sitting next to me with a tube of Betadine ointment, a roll of gauze, and several cotton swabs. "You have nothing to be sorry about," he surmised, taking the shirt from my lap and quickly throwing it into the garbage can. And suddenly his eyes sparked with adoration, the bright green orbs lightening as a crooked grin overwhelmed his expression.

Kendall shifted closer to me, lifting my shirt on the right side to reveal the previously mentioned cut. "You know, you could have just called for me..."

I quirked my eyebrow in contemplation as he faced me for a moment, his expression suddenly mocking and deceitful. "It's been almost a week since I got discharged... I'm not completely incapacitated... I think I can handle cleaning my own cut, don't you agree?" And there was a slight edge to my tone, a bit of fire and sarcasm that caused Kendall's smile to grow impossibly wider as he scrutinized my wound.

So very gently, I felt him pull the gauze and medical tape back, and I could feel his fingers brush against my skin, causing my stomach to flip pleasantly. "You can be very stubborn when you want to be, did you know that?" he snickered softly as he used a damp cotton swab to clean the previously existing Betadine from the surrounding area.

"The stop mocking me, you jerk..." I teased warmly, smiling as Kendall's forehead creased in concentration. I was immediately enthralled by the determination that seemed to consume him, almost as though he was trying so desperately not apply any unnecessary pressure to the wound – trying to be so gentle. I could only feel a faint twinge coming from the cut, and I couldn't suppress my devious grin as I continued to watch him.

I tried to hide my amusement as I hissed audibly, recoiling from the touch as I feigned injury. Kendall's reaction was immediate as he jolted backwards, his expression one of horror as his green eyes met mine.

Once Kendall realized that my response was a false one, he frowned faintly, but behind his distress, there was a type of mischief that only I could identify; the slight gleam in his eyes was what gave him away, and my warm laughter only seemed to enhance it's luster. "What's the matter, Kendall? 'Fraid your gonna hurt me?"

"Oh, shut up..."

"That's what you get for underestimating me."

Kendall smiled and returned to his task, maintaining his gentle and precise ministrations. "Not gonna let you outta my sight now, nope... 'Mm gonna follow you 'round and bug you, til you wanna rip your hair out."

"Well, that's a horrible tactic... I rather enjoy your company," I said as I continued to watch him, letting my head rest against the wall. "Hey, seriously though... You staying in my room tonight?"

Kendall looked up from beneath his eyelashes as he applied the Betadine to the wound, his eyebrow twitching slightly as he smiled. "You want me to?"

"Oh sure, what would I do without your incessant nagging?" I affirmed as Kendall poked my hip gently, and I couldn't help but laugh at his horrible defenses. "That's all you've got? You didn't even poke me where I'm bruised... You're horrible at this game, you know..."

"'Dun wanna hurt you, Logie..." he paused, chuckling. "You're like... like a stuffed animal... Or a kitten."

I felt my eyebrows shoot up in surprise, my jaw falling slack as I turned my head to regard him. "A kitten? Seriously? I really hate you sometimes, you know that."

Kendall pulled some of the gauze off from the roll and started taping the wound back up, his warm laughter reverberating around the small bathroom. "You don't hate me... Admit it, or I will poke you right in the ribs, and then you'll really be hurtin', buddy."

"Nah, I'll take my chances."

And suddenly, Kendall's expression turned somber, his eyes darkening as the atmosphere developed a tone of seriousness. "Hey, Logan... Can I ask you something serious?" he mumbled as he finished dressing the wound. "Why my door, huh? I mean... My mom's room was closer... So was James' and Carlos'."

Kendall's eyes met mine, and I couldn't control the sad smile the fell across my expression. "That's an easy one, Kendall... Out of everyone, I trust you the most... I knew that if I could just make it to you.... Everything would be fine..."

I didn't even have a chance gauge Kendall's reaction before I was pulled into a tight embrace, my entire body protesting as Kendall tightened his grip. I found myself ignoring the pain as I wrapped my arms around him, as well, pulling him closer and burying my face into the crook of his neck.

"Thanks, Logan..."

I tried to respond, but the pain in my chest was stifling, making the task a difficult one. "Ribs, Kendall..." I muttered, chuckling softly as he jumped back, startled.

"Oh, God... Logan, I'm so sorr–"

"S'okay... See? You didn't kill me," I teased, rubbing my left rib slightly. "Although, that probably isn't going to help the healing process too much..."

Kendall's expression was still creased with anxiety, but he offered a small smile, his eyes lightening imperceptibly. He stood from his spot on the floor and quickly replaced the medical supplies to their rightful spots before returning his attention to me, once again. He offered a hand, smiling crookedly as I grasped onto it, definitely ignoring the bouts of electricity that seemed to emit from the point of contact. "Should I carry you? Cos y'know, I will if I have to... If you're too crippled."

"Shut up. You're an asshole... I think next time, I'll go to James' room... He seems pretty reliable," I opined, smirking and turning my head as we left the bathroom.

"Ha. Real funny, Logan..." he paused, seeming to process what I had said. "There won't be a next time, okay?" And his voice was so dejected, almost as though the very thought was enough to cause him physical pain.

I found myself spinning around to face him, ignoring the resulting dizziness and salient sting in my side as I watched him carefully. It seemed as though I had no control over my body as my uninjured hand lifted to his cheek, so tender and, hopefully, reassuring. "Hey... hey, I was kidding alright? Don't worry..."

Kendall leaned into my palm, brushing it gently with the side of his face as he closed his eyes. "Just... be careful, okay?"

He opened his eyes slowly, and I was met with such a misplaced vulnerability – such a surreal openness, and God, it felt like I could see straight through him. His eyes shone his pure and unadulterated fear, and I couldn't stop myself from lazily caressing his cheek, trying to ease the tension that seemed to buzz right through his muscles, straight into my palm.

I let my hand fall from his cheek, but opted to grasp his hand instead, threading my fingers through his as I pulled him toward my room. And he continued to watch me so intently, eyes filled with a type of vulnerability and uncertainty that I knew I mirrored impeccably.

It was as though both of us were dropping every single one of our barriers, relinquishing our inhibitions and allowing each other to see what we had never before shown anyone else. I felt my heartbeat racing beneath my ribcage, refusing to lose eye contact with him as we entered my room, shutting the door behind us.

And as I fell back onto my bed with Kendall following close behind, it felt like the most intimate sensation I'd ever experienced. Kendall matched my every movement as I crawled toward the front of the bed, pulling the covers back and discarding my shirt. Once we were both under the black duvet comforter, I found myself seeking him out, wrapping my arms around his torso and pulling him closer to me. I reveled in the feeling of his bare skin against my torso, warmth radiating off from him in tidal waves and soothing every fear and insecurity I ever had.

This was home. And I knew right away that I never wanted to let this go – that I never wanted to let him go. I felt safe. I felt secure and every fear seemed to disintegrate the moment he wrapped his arms around me.

I don't know who initiated the contact, but before I was even aware that either of us has moved, Kendall's lips were on mine, moving slowly in a synchronized dance, and I couldn't stop myself from burying my hands in his hair and pulling him closer.

And it was a blur of electricity and soothing words and everything I needed to ease the fear that had been perpetually instilled within me for the past week.

When he finally pulled back from the kiss, I couldn't contain the whimper that escaped me, revealing my undying need for his comfort and security. I buried my face into the crook of his neck, kissing it tenderly as I pressed my body closer to his.

It seemed as though we were binding ourselves to one another, tied down by the intimacy and affection that ran so deeply between the two of us that neither of us could explain even if we had tried. I tightened my grasp around his abdomen, nuzzling closer to him as we were veiled beneath the blankets.

"I don't want to hurt you, Logie," he whispered, so softly, right before he tightened his grip, as well.

"You won't, I promise... Just hold on, okay?"

Slowly, my breathing evened out and I was consumed by an abiding darkness, comforted by the warmth and the familiar embrace I was wrapped so securely in.

I awoke the next morning to an unusual pounding, seeming to reverberate around the room with ferocity. I clenched my eyes shut, nuzzling my cheek against the warm and smooth surface as I tightened my grasp around the object in front of me. I found myself burying myself deeper beneath the blankets, trying to escape the light and the unending pounding that seemed so unrelenting.

I sighed softly, reveling in the abrupt silence when the pounding returned once again, awakening me completely as I jolted upright in bed, ignoring the pain and dizziness that the action produced.

Reality came crashing down on me all at once and I found myself staring down at Kendall as he stirred in his sleep, sighing drowsily.

The pounding returned, once again, and I came to the very formidable conclusion that someone was knocking at my door. I felt fear swell within my chest, my heart beating rapidly beneath my ribcage as my head whipped around to face my door.

"Logan? Wake up, man..." Carlos' voice was loud and distinguishable through the knocking. "I, uh... We have a problem, I think. We don't know where Kendall is."

And suddenly, Kendall jolted straight up into the sitting position, facing me with a fear-stricken expression. "Oh... Oh, fuck," he mumbled, burying his face into his hands. "We're screwed."

"C'mon, Carlos, don't wake him... Kendall's probably just down at the pool." James' voice was softer – more hesitant with an edge of uncertainty, because... he knew. And the thought of James attempting to respect our secrecy was enough to make me smile ever so slightly as I continued to consider a possible solution.

I turned my attention to Kendall, and offered a small smile. His expression was impassive now, borderline apathetic, in regards to the situation as he smiled lazily at me. "James knows, doesn't he?"

"I think so."

Kendall stood from the bed and walked toward the door, not even bothering to retrieve his shirt as he opened the door and regarded both James and Carlos with a smile. "What can I do for you boys?" he teased softly.

"Hey! There you are!" Carlos' excited voice rang throughout the room. "Whatcha doin' in Logan's room?"

"Stayed in here for the night..." Kendall's reply was easy and simple, the words rolling off his tongue in a way that clearly dispatched he wasn't too concerned with subtlety anymore.

"Well, that problem's solved! C'mon, let's go make pancakes, hm?" James' voice was now laced with humor as he pushed a bouncing Carlos away from the door. And just before he was out of sight, James turned his head and gave us a warm smile of understanding. He seemed to radiate that familiar compassion with almost an altruistic edge as he mouthed the words, oh so subtly, "I'm sorry."

And once again, I was left alone with my own personal sun, radiating heat and solace, and oh so gradually easing the ever-present fear. Kendall gave me a sense of security, and more than anything, I found myself thriving off from the sensation – needing it, begging for it, and just fucking hoping he'd never leave me, but knowing deep down that he never would.

"C'mere..." I whispered as we laid together, tightening my grip around his torso and pulling him closer.

"Don' wanna hurt you... 'Mm close enough." Even his voice, saturated with sleep, was like a blinding warmth, bright and radiant like flames engulfing the night sky, obliterating darkness – destroying fear. I sighed softly, burying myself deeper into his side with a small smile.

"It's been three weeks, Kendall. Stop being paranoid."

He wrapped his arm around my chest pulling me closer and everything was quiet and gentle, warm and reassuring as he conceded with my requests. "Love you, Logan."

"I love you, too, Kendall," I whispered so quietly, but with an edge of certainty and determination. The sentiment was only, and would only ever be, for Kendall. I turned my head slightly, my lips brushing against his neck and lingering with applied pressure as I smiled against the warm skin.

And I knew, without a doubt, that the emotion that was so clearly and permanently etched into my heart could only be described as love – a fierce, all-consuming love that made me question everything I'd ever learned, and even still, I wouldn't doubt it for a second.

A/N: Alright, so I'm extremely nervous to see what you guys think about this story. I hope everything made sense and that I didn't leave anything out... I'm extremely self-conscious about a majority of my projects, and especially so with this story. I just feel like something is missing with it, and I really wish I could figure out what.

But thanks once again to everyone who has been reading and reviewing. Seriously, reviews are like my oxygen, and they make me feel a little more confident, as well. It's always reassuring to hear that people are enjoying to stuff I write. :) So I would really, really, really love to hear some of your guy's thoughts on this story. Please? Pretty, pretty please? :)

Reviews are better than chocolate milkshakes. (And I really, really love chocolate milkshakes, guys.) :D