Kendall tossed in bed, tangling his legs in the covers and burying his face into his pillow. It smelled like a mixture of Cuda and something so boyish and clean that it could only be—

"If you want to spend so much time with Jo, then why don't you just date her? That's all you want, isn't it? I see the way you look at her!"

Kendall turned the other way, trying to get comfortable. There was so much more room on the bed than he was used to and it was just so cold without—

"It's not just that, Kendall, I saw you with her. I saw her throw herself at you and you didn't even push her away. You liked it, didn't you?"

Kendall kept shifting and stirring, desperate for the bliss of sleep. He groaned loudly when he realized that his whole body was completely cocooned in the sheets. It reminds him of a butterfly, something so beautiful and elegant he couldn't help but also picture—

"Is she softer than me, Kendall? Cuter? Nicer? Funnier? Is she a better kisser? Tell me, do you love her more than me? Just say it! If you want her so bad, you can have her 'cause we're over!"

Kendall shook in his fitful rest, a cold sweat on his face and his heart racing in his chest. Words poured out of his open mouth like prayers, but no one was listening. Because he was alone. "Please… No… I—"

"I love you, James! Only you!"

Kendall's red-rimmed eyes slowly opened when his phone goes off, blasting "Big Time Rush" into the room and into the blonde's ears. He sluggishly grabbed his phone, answered it without bothering to check the caller ID, and croaked out a broken "H-Hello?"

"Kendall." It was Logan. "James is in the hospital."

As Kendall sped down the highway—paying no heed to the fact he had yet to get an official license and there was no adult in the car with him—he tried his best to ignore the tears falling down his cheeks because he couldn't risk taking a hand off the steering wheel to wipe them. His hands were already shaking violently.

He knew that if he took one off, there was no doubt he'd get into a bad crash.

He also knew that particular hospital visit was different than the others; the boys were no strangers to doctors and white rooms that smell like old people and medicine, but that phone call was too dramatic, too distressing to play off as another simple hockey accident.

Something was wrong with James.

So something was wrong with Kendall, by association.

There was a constant, little voice in the back of his uneasy mind that kept telling, yelling, nagging at him.

It's your fault, the voice badgered. If it wasn't for you, he would have been safe at home, in bed, sleeping his pretty little mind away. He wouldn't have gotten hurt. He left because of you.

And Kendall didn't argue back.

Not because it would have been weird for a hysterical crying teen to be yelling at himself while driving well over the speed limit on the highway, no, but because he had no way to defend himself against the truth.

You don't deserve James, the voice said again as Kendall flipped on his blinker for a second before taking a sharp right, cutting off a big, over expensive SUV driver with a very colorful vocabulary.

That damn voice kept beating him.

Kendall stopped into the bathroom before going to James' infirmary room. He doesn't want to waste the time, but with all the stress, his bladder felt like it'd explode and he doesn't think the nurses would appreciate having not only to clean up their patients but also mop up some random sixteen-year-old boy's urine.

When he washed his hands, he slashed water from the sink on his red face several times, hoping that would take away from the blush staining his cheeks and wash away the remaining tears. It was a hopeless attempt—his bottle green eyes are red and puffy, the bags under them obvious.

He was only doing it for James, anyway.

It'd be a shame to make James' perfect hazel eyes look upon this ugly, messy sight of him. So, again in attempt to make himself look even a bit more presentable, he ran his long fingers through his dirty blonde bangs.

It didn't help.

His hair, like his heart, was unkempt and tangled and, really, just a helpless, lost cause.

Everyone hung around James in a circle as if trying to protect him from any more bad things, anything that could possibly hurt him any further. Mama Knight was at his right, rubbing soothing shapes on his arm, the other arm around Katie. Carlos and Logan flank his left, looking down at him with the saddest big, brown irises.

That was exactly how they were when Kendall opened the door slowly, slipping in and closing it again with the softest sound possible.

"Logan called me and told me," the blonde whispered in explanation when he felt James' curious eyes trained on his face. "I came as fast as I could."

He doesn't notice the four pairs of anxious eyes burning holes into various parts of his body from everyone else in the room. He was only concerned with searching James for any signs of discomfort or pain. The pretty boy didn't necessarily look hurt…

"Thanks," James told him in a scratchy voice.

And Kendall felt horrible that James actually thanked him for coming, as if it was a surprise that he would actually come over and wish him well, so he said in a slightly nervous voice, "No, it's the least I could do."

A small smile pulled at James lips. "And the least I could do is thank you." Then James decided to grace everyone in the room with the musical sound of his laugh, right from his chest, deep and happy, which was a stark contrast from the murky feeling in the room.

Usually, when James laughed, it was a contagious thing, something that made everyone else in the room laugh along with him, but now, no one else even cracked a smile.

Probably because of the next words that came out of his pretty mouth.

"I'm James Diamond," he introduced himself to the blonde, giving the boy another smile, "and you are?"

Kendall's face immediately clouded with shock and confusion, his eyes wide. "Wh-what?"

So another new Kames story because I'm just in love with them :) Your thoughts?