Okay, so I have no excuse for not updating.

I'm not going to lie and give some excuse, because you guys are too awesome. I just had some REALLY bad writer's block and couldn't even type for more than ten minutes without getting side tracked...

So I hope you can forgive me and just try and enjoy this fanfiction that is written by such a terrible author...

chocolate-colombo , PizzaTop21 , BookWorkKendall , Sing Me To Slumber , Anonymously Truthful , sk8r-grl , AlyssaMaslow , ZaynMalik-CarlosPenaLuver , Guest , DAForever62442 ; Thank you so very much for the support, I read every review and I am very grateful for them! (:

I own nothing of Big Time Rush!

Now please enjoy this very late chapter, and don't forget to review!

James POV

He's disgusting. Just look at him...

Who would even want such a creature like him. A worthless, broken, dead thing. He isn't worth someone's time, someone's love. It's a waste of time to even care for him. When I look at him, I wonder how he's still alive, how he hasn't given up.

Is he strong?

Is he forcing himself not to cut, not to pull the trigger?

I can see it in his eyes, the way they avert and swing around the room in fear and anxiety. He doesn't want to live a life of fear, a life of not wanting to even look at himself. There's a gun pressed up against his throat, laying on his tongue and choking him enough to remind him that he has a decision; he can pull the trigger whenever. It's his choice if he wants to live another day.

I can see all of this just by looking into his eyes, staring at his tense figure and his limp arms. His eyelashes just barely brush against his cheek bones, his eyelids so flat and dark. He hasn't gotten a good night's sleep in so long.

Naps. That's all he has, and they are interrupted by nightmares.

But who am I to say this? Because I don't even know him.

I don't know his real personality. I don't know his true dreams, his true wants. I don't know his authentic smile. I don't know his accurate love interest, or his genuine laugh.

I don't know who this man is or what he wants. If he wants to live, or die. If he wants to find love, or lay in bed all day. I don't know if he wants to rise up to the light of success, or lay underneath the rubble and withstand the darkness.

The footsteps were in hearing range now. I can hear greatly, the way the toes curl into the cold floor as they make their way to my room. I can even tell that they are being suppressed, trying to make as little noise as possible.

I blink slowly before backing away, taking one last look at the broken man before me, his blood shot eyes raw in my vision. I don't want to look at the repulsive being anymore.

I walked backwards towards my bed, stumbling once as I shuffled backwards. My arms are still limp by my side, sagging and lightly gripping at the hem of my shirt. The doorknob is twisting.

Lowering myself to my bed, I close my eyes. I'm still stiff, still not wanting to close my eyes. Because every time I close them, I see a gun pointed towards my face, a finger jutting out to pull the trigger. And it's not my hand.

They think I'm asleep. So I go limp, cowering in my own darkness. But the whole time I was staring in the mirror.

Normal POV

Logan slowly made his way to the room that James was resting in, making sure that his footsteps were light. The floor was strangely cold at the moment, propping up the idea of such a cruel night. The last thing that he wanted was to wake up his distraught friend. After the scene that was just caused, Logan was scared to even make a loud noise; a cough, even.

At the moment the other two boys were in the living room, speaking quietly to each other and even discussing on what to do. They were all completely confused to tell the truth. Nothing was explainable at this point, it was all almost above their heads. They couldn't think of a way to fix it considering that they were still in utter shock. It took a lot to regain the stable position they once had, now full of startled nerves.

Logan was amazed that he could even bring himself to walk through that door. All he wanted to do was check on James, to make sure that he was doing okay, but he wasn't sure if he'd have a break down as well. It was rather easy at this point. All it took was letting it out when looking at James and Logan could be on the floor all on his own doing. It was like when their eyes met, then his legs just couldn't hold his weight any longer. Maybe even his ankles would snap underneath his pressure. But he had to stay strong, because he could already tell he was the brains in this problem.

He always was... and he never accepted that until James came along.

And that's why he'd use that as an advantage to help out James, the boy who helped him use his intelligence without regret or humility.

As Logan slowly reached for the doorknob, he twisted it with anticipation. His fingers were so unstable, so shaky that he could just feel the pads of his fingers slipping off of the brass. But over the sweat building over his forehead, he could hear the faint noise of the padding of feet. It was quick but with a frigid movement, so unsure and sloppy. Then he froze, his arm going numb. The bed squeaked ever so slightly, signaling an amount of weight pushing on the springs. Logan could easily configure what was going on and James wasn't going to fool him. Small details always contributed.

He pushed the door open, feeling the wind brush against his face before whirling and disappearing. The room felt warm, with the heat on and James making sure the room turned into his own sauna. All the doors were closed and the windows sealed off. Even the closet door had a towel stuffed underneath, keeping the air from flowing. The crack was hopeless of circulating any air. This only proved that James was never asleep, what sleeping man could have done this with the small amount of time he was alone?

"Hey buddy, how're you doing?" Logan whispered, shutting the door behind him with a slow and antagonizing ease. He hadn't noticed until then, and attempted to hold back his expression, but when his eyes laid on James he scrunched his nose and frowned. James was straight as a board, his legs pressed together and his arms against his sides. He was staring up at the ceiling, emotionless. He didn't even turn to Logan. Instead, he blinked.

He easily reminded Logan of a study he once did on Exorcism. The only thing James was missing was the crooked and entirely impossible bending bones, or the white and dead eyes, or even the possessed voice. Thinking back to the pictures and videos he had fell upon, the shivers he felt made him squirm in his standing position. But he shook his head, because there was no need to be afraid. James wasn't possessed, he was traumatized.

The intellectual boy cleared his throat, gradually sitting down, "You gonna talk?"

Those exhausted eyes turned his way. It was so tense so quiet, until the sigh that escaped James' mouth broke the air. He sat up slowly, his fingers scrunching at the sheets. Logan subconsciously let out a breath, smiling towards James' much better posture. "Sorry, Logie. Just feeling a little tired, you know?" he whispered, fiddling with his thumbs.

Logan's eyes flickered from James' face to his thumbs. They brushed together, circling over the other in sudden quickened paces. He was so tempted to just reach down and pull them apart, to grab his hands and halt the movements. But instead he took a deep, shuddering breath. It was hard to believe that his best friend had changed so much. It wasn't like the amount was too much to consume, no, more on the lines of he didn't want to accept it. He didn't want to look at James and tell himself: he's messed up. Because that would send him spiraling into his own depression, unable to handle the news. That's why he kept up a smile and kept reassuring the boys that James was fine. The lies leaving his mouth were keeping him at peace.

"Don't worry about it, just checking on you... you need anything?" he asked slowly, gulping with anticipation. He was hoping that James would ask for something, or even just talk to him. Anything but smile and stare at him like that.

His head slowly shook, "No, I'm fine."

Logan bit his bottom lip, feeling his chest constrict. Fine? He's fine? He just had a panic attack only minutes ago. He's completely lying to Logan without even blinking nervously! This wasn't the James he knew... James could never lie to him, or the others for that matter! Logan swallowed roughly, realizing that he was holding his breath. There was so much he needed to say. He wanted to tell James to tell the truth, to stop speaking lies. That he wasn't fine and he needed to accept it, to fix it. For James, fine meant a whole different thing. It was just a word to cover up his pain. But who was he to patronize James for lying, when every day he lied to himself and the other boys? Who was he to tell James to face the truth, when he couldn't?

In his mind words of anger and frustration, depression and fear were spiraling furiously, making him dizzy. But all that passed out of his lips was a dry, painful breath and meaningless words, "Alright. Get some rest, I'll wake you for lunch."

James went to speak, but Logan was already standing up. Headed for the door, his hand ran over his face before burying itself into his hair. With his fingers tangled in his dark locks of hair, he shakily grabbed the doorknob and stumbled out the door.

He instantly pressed his back against the door, leaving James confused in the room. He buried his head in his hands, groaning. He wanted to pull his hair, scratch his skin raw. But he knew that he shouldn't. There were just so many things flying around in his head. He wanted to scream everything to James, to actually let him know what he was thinking, not what managed to make it's way out of his torn throat. Every time he talked to James, he felt like he was talking to a plain brick wall. Nothing made sense... it was like his words weren't even understood. Like James wasn't even hearing him...

"Dammit..." Logan whispered as his hands dropped to his lap, looking up at the ceiling, "why am I so stupid? Why didn't I force it out of him?"

'Because you're a weak nerd' he reminded himself, making him blink furiously to rid the tears away. He knew that he couldn't do it, he couldn't force anything out of James because he was too afraid. He didn't have the confidence... but didn't he have it only days ago?

"Logan?" Carlos called, seeming to have heard the door shut earlier. Footsteps were coming his way, bounding down on the floor. He could hear Carlos' fingers dragging on the wall, the finger nails just slightly trailing along. He quickly jumped to his feet, finding it hard to stand. His legs wobbled like Jello-O, painfully making him want to topple over himself. But instead he stood firm and wiped his eyes, sniffing one last time before throwing on a smile. One that was so fake he felt it could crumble and fall any second.

He cleared his throat, almost trying to test his voice. It still wavered, affected by his emotions. He took a step forward, squeezing his eyes closed momentarily as he mentally sobbed. His muscles were contracting with every movement, his organs crying, his mind screaming. It was his strength and his willpower that helped him keep such a straight face. Otherwise, he wouldn't be able to seem even the least bit sane if it weren't for the trembling smile on his face.

His eyes met with Carlos' and a sudden wave of uneasiness hit. His bones quaked from the stress on his body, because he felt like Carlos could see right through his terribly made facade. And of course, Carlos did. The Latino took one last reassuring step before pulling Logan in close, feeling the shaking shoulders. The amount of exertion on him physically and emotionally had his body unstable. No matter how real his smile could look, the convulsions running up and down his body was defying his attempts of happiness.

"It's alright, buddy. He'll be better soon, just give him time. We need to talk to Kendall, so go ahead and fix yourself up and meet us on the couch," Carlos said softly in his ear, patting his back one last time before backing away. His eyes swept over Logan's pathetic composure and sighed, snapping his fingers while turning back towards the living room.

As the words trailed off into the tense air, Logan rushed for the bathroom. He didn't know what was happening but his world kept spinning and made him want to fall to his knees. So he did, and heaved into the latrine.

He sat limply, laying his cheek on the cold porcelain. He winced at the disgusting area, leaning just enough to grab a cloth from the counter. Quickly wiping his mouth, he didn't really understand what he was doing as he leaned back. His weakness was so overwhelming that it sent him crashing back against the wall, leaving him slumped and decrepit. He didn't even have the strength, the effort to sit himself down. Because he just didn't want to.

He was disintegrating.

Carlos and Kendall were in the main room, quietly looking around. They had shut the TV off because during their discussion, it would only distract them from the important matter. So the room stayed tense and silent. The only thing heard was their shifting on the couches, or the clearing of their throats. Fear circled around the room, anticipation seeping through every crease and crack. Kendall's hands were fisting at the blanket that was draped over the couch's arm, his fingers digging into it painfully, his knuckles white. While Carlos sat still, zoning out on various objects and going blank. Maybe he was in his own little world, trying to escape from this horrid catastrophe, from his very existence.

And when they heard Logan's retching, his back slamming against the wall, they didn't move. Why? Because they knew there would be more of this, every day from now on. Until James was able to go a day without breaking down, when the boys were able to smile truthfully, and when their best friend wasn't on every television channel or every radio station. Maybe one day they could all sit in the same room and laugh without trailing off, thinking about when the next time James would wreck himself.

Maybe one day, they could be the same?

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