Fic: When the Music Stops, Part 4/?
Title: When the Music Stops
Genre: Big Time Rush - Drama / Romance
Pairings: Logan/Kendall
Details: Slash, AU
Rating: MA/NC17
Warnings: Adult situations (i.e. smut) at some point, mild angst, swearing
Status: WIP
Word Count: ~3500
Summary: An accident keeps Logan and his parents from moving to Minnesota. When Kendall and Logan meet years later, Kendall hears clear as a bell. Logan doesn't. "Sitting on a speaker instead of a drummer's throne, Logan turns up the bass, pounding out any bitterness he had let fester in his heart. He won't leave himself to rot, not anymore."
Masterlist
"I don't understand why you want to keep it a secret from everyone here at school, but you told that band first thing," Camille says. They're sitting by one of the fountains on campus; it's getting late and dark so they're signing and speaking. Logan keeps his eyes peeled for any approaching students, and whenever one passes by, it causes a lull in conversation. Normally it would be awkward, but it's not, Logan taking the quiet moments to dip his fingers in the cool water, feel the vibration of the mechanisms keeping the flow going.
He's over the rejection now. If there's one thing Logan has learned from years and years of being different, it's how to cope and move on.
"If I'm supposed to spend so much time with them, how would I have kept it secret?" Logan says.
"But how is keeping it from them and keeping it from everyone else any different?"
Logan thinks that one over. No, he doesn't want to be anything but honest, but no one goes around asking How's your hearing? except for Camille, obviously.
"It just never comes up, okay? I mean, if it did, I wouldn't lie about it." Logan grows frustrated with himself, trying to get his point across. "Look, I know there will come a point in some of my music oriented classes where people will notice, but, for now, my professors know and that's enough."
"Then why don't you audition for this band," she pulls the flyer out of her bag again, thrusting it into Logan's lap, "and wait to tell them until after you've proved how amazing you are? Just a few practices."
"I don't know, Camille -"
"It's just like the other students, right? They don't need to know until they need to know?"
Logan gingerly picks up the flyer, smooths out the wrinkles against the stone bench on which they sit. The Musical Journey Starts Here it says. Cheesy, but the words also bring back that dreamlike feeling Logan experienced the first time he felt the drumbeats from that music store when he just a kid. There are multiple strips on the bottom, each with a phone number printed across it.
Logan laughs. "I think you were just supposed to tear off one strip and leave the flyer."
"I know," Camille replies, "but I wanted less competition for you. That was until I heard you play and found out you don't need any help."
He looks at her a long time, her smile never faltering. "Why are you being so nice to me?"
"Because I like you, Logan Mitchell." She reaches out and touches the tip of his nose. "And you deserve an awesome friend like me, I can tell."
Returning her comment with a closed-mouth smile, Logan's eyes return to the flyer, tracing a finger along the bold, black letters. His brain is telling him this is a bad idea, that he should really give up on the whole rock star dream, that keeping a secret from this band is a bad idea, but there's a tug in his chest, some new tune coming to life, the beat of his heart the perfect accompaniment.
"I'll think about this," Logan says, finally.
"Good." Camille pulls Logan to his feet. "So what are you plans for this weekend?"
"Study. Practice. Why?"
"Because I have a feeling you've yet to really see L.A.," Camille says, eyebrows wiggling mischievously.
-K-
Kendall strolls through the disorganized aisles of the music shop with an extra bounce in his step, a flourish of his wrist as he dusts some old instruments.
He can say, without a doubt, how proud he is of James and Carlos. Not only did they pass out all the flyers, but they even made more. They were crudely crafted, hand-made ones, but still. Kendall appreciates the effort. It just reminds him how serious they are about this, especially when time is ticking away. They've been in this town for three full months now, and progress needs to be made.
Once Kendall has finished dusting, he amuses himself by trying to make some sound come out of an old, beat-up sousaphone. He really loves this job, despite the boredom he finds - without fail - every Saturday evening. The shop sells everything from used band equipment to old CDs, cassettes and vinyl. The only thing new about it is the magazine rack, complete with anything from Rolling Stone to Banjo Bi-Annual (Kendall finds the second needs dusting frequently, which he's offended by because the banjo is so underappreciated). He really doesn't know how the place stays in business. Kendall is convinced the old man who runs the shop is loaded and can afford to keep this place going on a whim.
He's just getting a sound to come from the sousaphone that sounds like some crazy farts, when the bell on the door chimes. A couple comes in, laughing and smiling and heading straight toward the display window.
"Were you talking about this xylophone?" the girl asks, climbing into the display and bringing down the instrument.
"Camille!" the guy says, glancing around the shop, presumably afraid of getting in trouble. Kendall doesn't mind, so long as they don't go around breaking stuff. The guy's eyes go wide when he catches sight of Kendall, the sousaphone still over his head and around his waist.
"It's a glockenspiel," Kendall and the guy say at the same time. The guy smiles at Kendall, a short, loud burst of laughter escaping him when he realizes they said the same thing. The way the guy's face looks, all dimples and white teeth and big brown eyes, causes this pang of familiarity so strong in Kendall that he has to take a deep breath.
"Jinx," Kendall says. He knows he's staring like a dummy, but he's trying to figure out why he knows this guy, where he's seen him before. The girl, Camille, looks back and forth between the two guys before she elbows the brown-haired guy in the stomach. Kendall shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. It's only when he finds the action difficult he realizes he's still wearing a sousaphone.
"You play that thing?" the guy asks Kendall.
Kendall laughs, his cheeks warming up ever so slightly, before he answers, "Just messing around." He turns to the side. "Does this make me look fat?"
The guy cocks his head to the side, the corners of his mouth turning downward as he scrutinizes Kendall up and down. Kendall isn't one to get embarrassed, but he feels even more a blush creeping up from his chest. "It's actually very figure flattering. I'd say no one has worn a sousaphone quite as well as you."
"Thanks," Kendall says, finally pulling the instrument over his head and putting it on the counter with a loud thud. "I think I'll go for a standard tuba next time. More slimming."
Camille elbows the guy again, and he gives her an exasperated look. Kendall approaches the couple and Camille sighs. "This is Logan," she says, patting the brunet on the shoulder. She cups her hand beside her mouth, adding, "And he's amazing in every single way."
Kendall laughs at the comment, because what's he supposed to say to that? Logan looks to Camille with slanted eyes and a questioning expression. She waves her hand in an odd way, her thumb and forefinger making an L shape. Logan's eyes narrow further, and she just keeps smiling at him.
"So," Kendall starts, interrupting the odd exchange, "you play the glockenspiel?" He picks up the discarded bell lyre and moves it to the counter.
"Who doesn't?" Logan replies, following Kendall to where the instrument sits, tapping a few of the cool, metal bars with his knuckles.
Kendall turns his back on the couple to find some mallets saying, "I know, right?" He finds what he's looking for and returns to Logan, handing over the two mallets. Logan gives him a long look with raised eyebrows.
"Well…give it a go," Kendall urges. He suddenly remembers he's supposed to be trying to sell stuff, not just mess around, so he adds, "It's a damn fine instrument."
Logan smiles again, and Kendall finds himself wanting to scoot closer to him, see if he smells as lovely as his grin appears. He's got this artfully messy hair, and Kendall wonders what it would look like first thing in the morning when it's just messy sans artful.
Kendall thinks he really needs to start dating. He must be hard up if he's having such dreamy thoughts about a straight dude who is obviously taken. Who has the time for that though? James does, he quickly answers to himself, and he can't help but laugh.
"What is it?" Logan asks.
"Oh nothing," Kendall answers quickly, "my mental train just really needs to be derailed sometimes. Anyway," he gestures to the bells again, "show me what you've got."
Logan shrugs in a why the hell not? sort of fashion, and starts to play. The first few notes are tentative, like he doesn't know if he should bang the fuck out of the ancient looking thing. He stops and looks at Kendall.
"Beat the hell out of 'em, dude," Kendall replies to the unasked question.
So Logan does, he really fucking does, and once he's warmed up, his hands are flying like hummingbird wings and he's playing something Kendall has no idea what it is, but damn if he doesn't kill it. Kendall rips his eyes from Logan's hands, and he's really glad he does, because Logan has this million fucking megawatt smile on his face. Camille is just giggling behind them, and Kendall finds himself quickly joining in, because who has ever rocked a glockenspiel?
When he's done, he calmly hands the mallets back to Kendall who stares at him with his mouth open.
"What else do you play, man?" Kendall asks, the awe ridiculously clear in his voice, and he has the urge to facepalm.
Logan laughs softly. "I usually like to play things that are loud," he answers, smirking.
-K-
Kendall leads Logan around the shop like a little kid, dragging him by the wrist to every percussion instrument they have to offer. Hand bells, tambourines, crash cymbals, timpani, bongos, snares. There's even an old gong in the back room Kendall wants Logan to hit, just to see if it sounds better when he does it. And it totally does. Crazy. Logan really seems to like that gong, because he hits it at least five times before Kendall takes the mallet from him, giggling at Logan's excitement like Kendall were a pre-teen girl.
"How are you even a real person?" Kendall asks, leading Logan back to the front counter. Camille's standing there, playfully banging the glockenspiel. When Logan doesn't answer, he turns around toward him expectantly.
"Sorry, did you say something?"
"Yeah, how are you even a real person? Where did you come from?"
"Texas, just outside of Dallas," Logan answers simply.
"Texas, huh?" Some memory surfaces at the word, and Kendall feels this old lingering incomplete thing he can't really put a name to. "You don't have a funny accent."
"Well, I, uh, see it - "
"It comes out when he gets angry or excited," Camille interrupts.
Kendall smiles. "I always wanted a friend with a twang." He's overcome again by how familiar Logan is, how he feels like he could sit next to Logan in a quiet room and just be.
Logan furrows his brow and Kendall realizes he's been staring again.
"Do I know you from somewhere?" Kendall asks.
Logan shakes his head, "Just from the glockenspiel, the bongos, the snare, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera."
There's some niggling in Kendall's mind, like there's something else he should be asking this guy, something else going on he needs to know about. He's having trouble thinking because of that weird cloud of unexplainable déjà vu lingering in the air.
"Look, I'm not trying to hit on you or anything," Kendall starts, "because I can see you've got a really pretty girlfriend here -"
"She's not my girlfriend," Logan is quick to remark. "I mean, she is a girl, and we're f-friends, I guess." He looks to Camille and she nods.
Kendall feels like a dumbass for being excited. He's honestly just looking to make Logan his friend. He has to. The idea of simply letting him walk out the door makes Kendall feel something like hopeless. Think of all the awesome noise Logan will make that Kendall would miss out on.
"Anyway," Kendall says, a small smile curling his mouth, "I'm still not trying to hit on you, but…if I give you my number will you call me sometime? I'm not even asking for yours because I don't want to creep you out. No pressure, okay? I just want to hang out sometime, bang on some drums."
Logan glances at Camille again who nods. His cheeks flush, and he diverts his eyes to his feet. Kendall is pretty sure his heart skips a little. Either that, or he's still feeling all the beats reverberating in the air from Logan's playing.
Maybe Kendall is hitting on Logan.
"Sure," Logan replies. "But I'm more of a texter."
"That's no problem." Kendall resists the urge to grab Logan's hand and pen his number there, just as an excuse to touch the other guy, instead finding a business card for the music shop. He scribbles his name and number on the back and hands it to Logan.
"Kendall," Logan says, as though he's trying out the name in his mouth.
"I'm so rude, aren't I? You've been in here for an hour and I haven't even introduced myself."
"It's cool," Logan says.
Kendall holds out his hand. "Hi, I'm Kendall."
"I'm Logan," he laughs, taking Kendall's hand. Maybe Kendall imagines it, but it seems like Logan hangs on to him just a little longer than normal, and there's this inexplicable sensation of something aligning and coming together.
Kendall, again, thinks he really needs to get out more. His mental train must be hauling cheese.
Once Logan is gone and Kendall is just staring off into space, a stupid shit-eating grin on his face, he notices the flyers taped on the door. The flyers for his band who is in sore need of a drummer. A fucking fantastic drummer, just like Logan.
He's pretty sure the sound of his head hitting the counter rivals the sound of that gong.
-L-
"That guy was totally hitting on you," Camille says within minutes of exiting the shop.
"Camille, he said he wasn't. He made a point of letting me know that," Logan answers. Like he would know. He's had more social interaction in the last week than he has over his whole life. Logan might be a genius, but he's shit at interacting with people.
"You were flirting with him."
"I was not!" Logan protests.
"Oh, yeah right." Camille lowers her voice an octave and mocks, "I'd say no one has worn a sousaphone quite as well as you. Because that's totally not flirting."
"How is it flirting if it's true?"
Camille rolls her eyes and signs, Logan's in love with the music shop guy!, over and over until Logan playfully slaps her hands down.
Once back on campus, they go to Logan's dorm to chat.
Are you going to call him? Camille signs.
Probably not, Logan admits.
What? Logan, you have to.
I don't have time, Camille. I have to work twice as hard as everyone else if I'm ever going to make it here and I just can't have dis-
Shush, Camille signs, you have the talent of at least ten average music students here, if not more. Did you see Kendall's face when you were playing?
No, I was watching the instruments, duh.
Don't get snippy, Camille chides. She scoots in close to Logan, takes his hands in hers and says, "It's not a crime to have a social life, okay? There are some awesome people in this town, and I'm pretty sure we just met one of the awesomest. Not to mention cutest. Did you see his crazy eyebrows?"
Logan laughs and moves his hands from Camille's. He pulls the card out of his pocket, looks down at Kendall's name and number. He traces the indentations on the paper, something sparking his memory. The number seems familiar. He stands and goes to his desk, picks up the discarded flyer for the band looking for a drummer. Glancing from the card to the paper, the card to the paper, Logan realizes it's the same number.
"Look," Logan says, holding the two pieces of paper so Camille can see them.
"Well, I'll be damned," Camille says, noticing what Logan already did. Camille's hands go to Logan's shoulders and he's pretty sure she squeals. She squeezes him unnaturally hard and jumps up and down.
"Why are you so excited?" Logan asks, wondering how he got himself involved with this over-the-top girl.
"Because, don't you see?" she asks.
"See what?"
"It's fate!" Jumping up and down again, she begins to laugh.
"I don't believe in fate." He holds the flyer and card out again so he can read the numbers, double-checking to ensure no mistake has been made. "Only coincidence."
"You are such a cynic, Logan. But you have to admit, it's a strange coincidence."
"You're right about that," Logan concedes, frowning.
Camille rips the papers from Logan's hand and clutches them to her chest. "You have to audition now. You just have to."
Logan merely looks at her, straight-faced and serious. Truth be told, he did feel something for Kendall, but since he's so stupid when it comes to human relationships, he can't put his finger on what that thing was. It was like the first, heavy beat of the bass drum or the clang of a cymbal. A feeling that didn't hesitate to present itself. It woke him up, like the salty smell of the air rolling off the ocean. Something big, intangible.
So Logan nods at Camille, slowly, cautionary, as though his agreement were a delicate thing.
"Why didn't he mention it?" Logan asks.
Camille gets serious, places the now crumpled papers back in Logan's hands. Logan, I think he was a little starstruck, she answers.
Logan remembers something, and his head snaps to Camille's face. "What did you tell him in there anyway? When you were hiding your mouth from me?"
Camille smirks. "Nothing he didn't find out for himself."
-L-
By Monday night, Logan works up the courage to text Kendall. He thought about what to say all day Sunday, and he practices potential conversations in his head all through Monday. He figures he needs to just get it over with since he's having such a hard time concentrating on his studies. Should he text him about hanging out, or solely about auditioning for his band? He resists the urge to have Camille with him when he contacts the blond, just because he's honestly scared shitless. What is he expecting anyway? He's not, like, interested in Kendall or anything. Hell, he's not even sure he likes guys. In the past, Logan has always easily avoided any kind of interaction which might produce any type of attraction. He's fine on his own, thanks much.
But Kendall's eyes were this really cool shade of green. Not even really green, per se, but a color Logan can't even name. Like summer grass with yellow flowers and patches of earth between.
Ugh, stop, Logan thinks. Kendall can't like Logan anyway. He doesn't know everything yet.
Finally, once he's settled in after dinner and done with his schoolwork, he lies on his back and stares at the ceiling. He finally opens a new message to Kendall on the screen of his phone.
So you didn't tell me you were in a band. This is Logan from the other night, by the way. I found one of your flyers on campus.
Logan's heart is thrumming as he lays the phone down on his chest; he can visibly see the phone trembling from the pounding. He laughs, realizing how ridiculous this is.
He doesn't wait long before his phone vibrates that he has a reply.
Sorry! I don't know what I was thinking. I'm so glad 2 hear from U. U want 2 join?
Wow. Logan thinks this is all too easy. He's about to reply when another text comes through.
My friends James and Carlos would need to approve but I can't see them saying no.
If possible, Logan's heart speeds at the thought of actually auditioning. Three musicians scrutinizing him. Three musicians he's going to keep a secret from.
It's just for a few practices, he reminds himself, many times over.
When could we all meet? Logan presses send with a shaky index finger, a slow breath expelled past his lips. The reply is almost immediate.
Is now too soon? Tonight?
Part Five