Logan was caught off guard when he heard footsteps from down the hallway that lead out of the far right of his studio. Oh gosh, oh gosh...stand up, quick...leave...wait, no, no...focus on getting your sweatshirt instead. The brunette's mind raced as his eyes darted around the room for where he had left his jacket; if he was going to be caught, he certainly didn't want it to happen while his bony arms and chest were exposed. It was too late, though, because when he spotted the fabric, it was lifted up off the ground by a pale hand.

"Looking for something?"

"What are you doing?!" Logan flipped, "B-Barging in on me...l-like, don't you know how to k-knock?!" He snatched the hoodie and yanked it over his nearly bare top half.

"Um...barging in on you? Excuse me, but this is my studio. You're the one who just walked in. I don't even know who you are!" The tall blonde man rolled his eyes.

"Your studio?!" Logan stood up so he'd be face to face with the new guy, "This was my studio longer than it was yours, I'm sure!"

"Ah..." He paused and laughed a bit, "You must be Logie then?"

"Um...h-how do you know my name?"

"They talk about you around here a lot!" He nodded.

"T-They do? What do they say?"

"Well...if someone skips lunch to continue dancing the other instructors will tell them not to be a Logie, but this whole time I thought it was just a slang term." The blonde shrugged.

"They...s-say that about me?" Logan's tone dropped from being angry to a more melancholy pitch. The change didn't go unnoticed by the man.

"Um, yeah. But I bet there reasons are dumb...it's no big deal. So...what dance were you doing before I came in? I saw a bit...not the whole thing, though. It was really good, especially when you started punching the mirror, like it added emotion and...and...I'm rambling, sorry." He blushed. He wanted to get off the previous subject, but he certainly went a bit overboard at the same time.

"You saw that?" He stared at his feet, not moving his gaze one bit.

"Yeah! It was amazing!"

"Oh...it was just a piece that I used in a competition a while back. First time we lost, though, and that's been bothering me lately. I'll come here and practice it every morning and night if it means I can be perfect. The dance has to be perfect."

He laughed, "Someone's a bit of a..."

"Perfectionist, I know." Logan mumbled, crossing his arms, "What's your name, blondie?"

"Kendall."

"I hope you don't mind me sneaking in, Kendall." Logan nodded.

"I don't, if anything I should be happy you're improving. Maybe you'll be as good as I am someday." Kendall smiled.

"Whoa...hold on. What?"

"You don't work here anymore, they must've replaced you with me after you lost that competition." He raised a thick eyebrow and smirked.

"NO! I'm far better than you ever will be! BELIEVE ME." Logan shot back.

Kendall just shrugged and lifted the brunette's backpack for him, handing over the red item and waving for him to leave, "I have a class to teach, meaning...it's time for you to leave."

Logan grabbed it angrily and turned to leave, but a loud clank on the studio floor caused both of the men to freeze in their tracks and turn around. Lying in between them were an old, beat up pair of pointe shoes. They were tiny and certainly looked like a woman's pair of slippers.

"You forgot something." Kendall went to reach for the shoes, but Logan dove in and got them before the blonde could touch their silky exterior, "Dude...I don't think those will fit your feet..."

"They aren't mine." Logan replied flatly, his back to Kendall. He didn't want to look the man in the eyes, as his were now bloodshot and glassy with tears.

"Who's are they then?"

"My mum's...I better get home and give them to her, I've gotta leave, Kendall. Good bye." With that, the raven-haired dancer ran off, not bothering to turn around or even pay attention to his surroundings. Kendall watched and waved, being slightly disappointed that he even asked about the slippers.

Logan was doused by rain the moment he stepped outside. A large overcast of dark clouds followed and the sky went straight from looking like it was mid-morning to late at night. Logan just adjusted his hoodie and hoped that it'd dry when he got home. At the moment, the thought of home warmed him up, but just a bit. Home was lovely, but being in a house all by yourself isn't too fun. Regret filled his cocoa brown eyes at were too busy watching for cars to care about the sadness that was soon to follow.

"Logan! LOGAN! WHERE ARE YOU?!" Echoed through the small house so much that you probably could hear Stephen's voice around the block, at the beach, "Logan, I swear! Answer me!"

The brunette wrapped his arms around his stomach weakly and let the tears fall. He wanted so badly to yell out, "I'm right here, daddy! Save me, daddy!" but at the same time, he was too ashamed to say a word. His father was his everything and all he had left, there was no way he could let him down by allowing him to find out about the mess he had gotten himself into.

Logan grabbed his duffel bag and stood up, flushing the toilet and then wiping his mouth with a wash cloth. He tried his best to remove anything that'd give away that he was even there in the first place, by throwing away the piece of fabric and turning off the sink faucet. As far as his father knew, he was dead, and it had to stay that way.

"LOGAN, PLEASE...IF YOU'RE HERE, PLEASE...PLEASE ANSWER ME..." His voice dropped, "P-Please a-answer m-me..."

"Daddy..." Logan whispered and choked back a sob, opening the window, pulling his tiny body through the opening and placing his feet into the sand, "I love you..." He murmured, even though he knew very well that his father couldn't hear him.

The teenager peered out at the New Zealand ocean that was in front of him and the miles of empty beach. He kicked a tiny pile of sand on the ground before wandering out to where the road was and heading for the airport. He was going to get on the first flight they had and he wasn't turning back either...he promised himself that he wouldn't look, because it'd just break his heart even more, and that was the last thing he needed on his mind.

Logan had been so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't even realise that he was coming up to the apartment building he lived in. He let himself into the lobby and schlepped through the room, dripping water all over the place. The snobby workers peered at him angrily, but he could be just as mean, and sent back and even worse glare. Probably didn't look too intimidating, though, as he still held onto the pink, silky pointe shoes. He didn't even bother to wait for the elevator and took the stairs instead, holding onto the railing with a death grip, being terrified that if he didn't, he'd slip and fall.

"Home sweet home." He snarled, opening the door and locking it behind him. The tiny, one roomed apartment looked so drab with all the lights on. It really showed how beige the walls were and how old the mattress he owned was.

No matter how old the thing got, he still held onto it, knowing that getting a new bed would be a waste of money, heck...he could sleep on the floor if he had to. Logan slid past the tiny kitchen table that he managed to cram into the room and went over to the hook he had on the wall, placing the slippers back on it, kissing their heels before sitting down, his gaze didn't leave them, though. He smiled slightly, but felt like crying at the same time.

"I miss you too, Mommy." He whimpered like a little child. He could always call his father, but it wasn't that easy for his mother.

"I've still kept my promise...see...I told you." He spoke out loud, just hoping she'd hear.

"It's all because of you, Mommy. Are you proud of me? I was so proud of you when I was little." He found his maturity dropping as he spoke to the shoes as if his mom really was standing in front of him again.

He bit his lip and dropped his head in shame. No matter how real it felt, she wasn't actually there...

"Mommy! Mommy!" 4-year-old Logan squealed into to phone, "Mommy, when you get home, will you teach me the dance you learned today? Pretty, pretty please, Mommy."

"Of course, darling." She spoke, her voice like velvet. She was the most perfect and beautiful girl in Logan's mind.

"Thank you, mommy. I love you. One day I'm going to be a dancer just like you are!" He beamed, handing the phone back to his dad.

"I'll help you along the way, sweetie. I love you too, Logie."

~3 years later~

"Look at this one, dad!" Logan smiled brightly, pulling through the big box of photographs his father had pulled out.

"That was a lot of fun, Logie. Let's go fishing again soon, okay?"

"Can we, daddy?" His eyes lit up.

"I promise, we will. It'll be a blast!"

"I love you so much, daddy. You're the best." Logan nuzzled his face into his father's chest.

"I love you too, Logan."

"Hey...what's this one?" The young boy asked.

"That's Mommy at one of her recitals." Stephen grinned.

"Daddy...where is Mommy? She's been gone for an awfully long time."

Mr. Lester took his sons hands into his and looked the boy in the eyes sadly, "Mommy passed away, Logie. She got into a car accident when you were four..."

Logan's smile faded, "She did?"

"She's still with us, though, dear."

"How, daddy?"

Mr. Lester pointed to his son's chest and then to his, "She's in our hearts and she'll be there forever."

"I'm glad she's in my heart, daddy." Logan smiled proudly.

"I am too." Stephen grinned and tried his best to not cry in front of his child.

Seconds later, the little boy had crawled onto his lap and snuggled up there, "Mommy's watching us right now, and she's happy that were happy." He finally said.

Logan blew a kiss to the slippers and headed for his bed. It was the afternoon, but he was exhausted from getting up so early to dance. He didn't mind, though...he was going to do whatever it took to get his job back and fulfill the dream his mother never got a chance to achieve. He was going to do that, just that, and nothing less than that, even if it was the last thing he did.

Logan smiled to himself and pulled the covers up and over his head, "Goodnight, mom."