Fanfiction: Higher than the Empire State, Brighter than the Sun (Carry Me Home Tonight) 3/4
Higher than the Empire State, Brighter than the Sun (Carry Me Home Tonight) 3/4
Fandom: Big Time Rush, for the palmwoods Harvestfest Fic Fest
Disclaimer: I don't own BTR, Nick + Norah or anything else of value.
Pairings: Kendall/James, side Camille/Carlos (No idea. I have no idea.) Past Kendall/Jo, James/Logan
Warnings: Bad words, References to sex and masturbation, underage drinking, strippers
Word Count: Part 3 6,029 Total 16,151
Prompt: Nick and Norah’s infinite playlist. But with boykissing.
Author’s Note: So this happened. Title from "We Are Young" By Fun.
Summary: Two messed up kids in New York City. Also, they fall in love.
Three
Camille and Carlos stand outside Madrigal’s with Bob from Bob’s, who’s looking as normal as ever in his tux and sandals, a pink drink umbrella sticking out of his beard.
Camille is draped in Carlos’ jacket and swaying a little, she crash tackles Kendall as soon as Kendall and James get within ten meters of the taxi rank.
“Hii!” squeals Camille, hair flying, “How was your wa-alk?” she singsongs, and Kendall cocks an eyebrow at her.
“Where’d the guy in the suit go?” He asks of the Wall Street Mouthkisser,
“Oh that guy? He left hours ago. Something about all you can eat ribs. Now we’re going to a strip club, it was Carlos’ idea, isn’t that great?!”
Kendall doesn’t think it’s a great idea at all, but he hugs Camille close and smiles.
“Sounds wonderful. Very rebellious.” She beams at this, staring up at him all starry-eyed and giggly.
“So did you guys have fun on your journey to find some air?” she asks, and Kendall shakes his head.
“You are drunk,” is all he says,
“Delightfully so. Isn’t it great? But seriously Kendall Knight, you and James should just fucking date already, because you’re both awesome, but sad, and dating people makes you happy and Carlos and I think you should both be happy while dating together! Also, you should come to the strip club with us.”
“Ok,” says Kendall, despite all better instincts. “Where are we going and how are we going to get in? I don’t have any, uh, connections.”
The last word is a whisper for Camille’s ears only. Not that it matters, James is in deep conversation with Carlos and not paying attention to Kendall and Camille anyway.
“I do.” says Bob, who apparently hears like a bat. Kendall stares, open-mouthed,
“Don’t you have a club to run?” Bob considers this for a moment, then shrugs,
“It’s cool.” He says, “I probably left someone in charge.”
They last six minutes in the club. Bob’s connections aren’t quite as reliable as Kendall’s, and the quality of the venue is not really to their standard.
“Well, that was an experience.” Says Kendall once they’re back in the car.
“How do I un-experience it?” asks Carlos, hugging his knees to his chest.
“They had nice hair, I guess.” Offers James weakly, looking positively green.
“I still can’t believe that thing with the duck. That was really something,” says Camille, unflinchingly chipper.
They drive for ten minutes before they realize they left Bob behind.
“You know, it’s probably for the best,” says Kendall. No-one argues.
--
James is glad when karaoke is suggested as a palate-cleanser, and Carlos offers to drive, allowing Kendall to actually have a few drinks and, hopefully, relax a little.
Ever since they ran into Lucy Stone he’s barely looked at James, instead opting to stare moodily at much less attractive things, such as the ground.
He kind of forgets about it once they enter the bar though, because it's there that Camille blows his mind.
Camille is an amazing duet partner. Up there on stage she shines, everything about her is magnified, extraordinarily vibrant and beautiful.
James is pretty sure he’s never met someone more perfectly suited to the stage, even himself.
By the fourth rendition of Endless Love (One practice, one with the expected gender roles, one with swapped gender roles and one ‘good’ one) James is pretty sure he has a new best friend, Carlos is giving a standing ovation and while Kendall is shaking his head, he’s also smiling.
Though it’s still a surprise when Kendall gets up and takes to the stage.
James isn’t expecting much, Kendall has barely mentioned anything about music all night, listing hockey and hockey alone as his one passion, only asking a few questions about James and the band.
Then Felix, the bartender, drags out his acoustic guitar and sends it up to the stage and suddenly it’s less karaoke and more a chance for James to stare in shock as Kendall sings.
Kendall is good.
James has no idea what he’s singing, only that it’s beautiful.
Kendall could be singing about the Ebola virus right now, and still every word would sound sweet and sad and wrap itself around James’ heart in a way that leaves a permanent mark.
He wants to sit and listen forever, to keep Kendall and the guitar in a constant serenade by his side, but as soon as it begins, it’s over. Another singer takes the stage, the guitar is gone, and Kendall is refusing to return James’ gaze.
He doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been great with words, all of The Next Big Thing’s songs are written by Shaun, and James is just the super hot mouthpiece.
But Kendall’s voice feels like something James could write actual poetry about, songs even.
He’s only ever written one song. A broken ballad written in his old treehouse, the night he caught Logan kissing another guy for the first time, two months after they’d started dating. He ran straight home and wrote like the wind, scrawling lyrics onto his mother’s best stationery, tears and ink mixing in a barely legible melody.
He put it on one of Logan’s mix CDs once, just to see what would happen.
Logan never mentioned it.
James may accost Kendall in the bathroom.
“How come you didn’t tell me you could do that?” he says as Kendall splashes water on his face.
“It didn’t come up.”
“But Dude, you’re amazing.” Kendall rolls his eyes,
“I think you’re delirious from too much Endless Love.”
“Kendall, come on. You can’t be serious right now. Why aren’t you out there? That was awesome, what the hell is stopping you?” Kendall just looks at him, tired, the way his mother use to look at the end of 12 hour working days and all James wanted to do was sing for her.
”It’s not like you don’t have connections; surely one of those club owners would give you a spot! Or your Dad?”
Kendall stares, stony-faced,
“I’m a hockey player, James, not a singer.”
“But you could be famous!” James cries, exasperated.
“Not everyone wants to be a stupid popstar.” Kendall rolls his eyes like it doesn’t matter.
It does though. The words cut James to the quick, but he brushes it off.
“Of course they do! Everybody wants to be famous!”
“I don’t.”
“Well apparently, you’re insane.”
“Just drop it, James.”
“Fine.” James shouts, and turns to leave, but feels Kendall’s hand close firmly on his wrist.
“Don’t,” is all Kendall says before he steps forward and kisses him, hard.
Blood is rushing to his head before James can even register what’s happening, and then they’re tearing at each other’s clothes and hair, kissing and pulling at anything they can get a firm grip on.
Kendall’s teeth dig into James’ lower lip until he tastes blood, and, shifting in retaliation, he nips at Kendall’s neck, and sucks at the skin until it blooms red, a mark to stay in semi-permanence, one to match his own. A reminder that James was there, solid and real in every way.
Kendall only laughs, the cocky smirk never leaving his face.
It’s infuriating.
“You wear a ridiculous amount of glitter.” Says Kendall matter-of-factly.
James kind of wants to hit him.
“You think you can get whatever you want.” He says as Kendall nibbles his earlobe, “Just because they all know your name. You think you’re better than me, because I want to be famous.”
James can live with anger. He can live with Kendall being all self-righteous and too good for James’ dreams.
Anger is all he’s really felt lately, once he moved past the hurt at least. But now as Kendall smiles that smile and goes for his lips once more, every motion brimming with the swagger of ownership, of power, the anger is a burden, pushing on James’ chest and making it hard to breathe.
“I can’t.” He mutters, and Kendall goes cold.
They leave the bathroom minutes apart.
When Kendall suggests they head to The Rocque to catch Lucy and Wake up New York, James only nods.
Silence is not something James deals with very well. Carlos has barely pulled out into the traffic before James is bored and restless.
He resorts to flicking through Kendall’s insane CD collection once more, wondering how someone can possibly enjoy such awesome bands and also BoyzCity.
At the bottom of the pile is a loose disk, which James picks up out of curiosity. The CD is unlabelled, the only one of its kind, and a little scratched from use and time.
James puts it on because he likes mysteries, and riddles, and fun things like that.
When his own voice fills the car, cracking and breaking to the rhythm of the guitar, James can’t breathe.
He was never completely in the dark.
James knew that Logan had a wandering eye, knew that his intentions were never to hurt James outright, but that he was trying to figure himself out.
For Logan that meant the scientific approach of trying out every possible method he could find.
So there were other guys, and occasionally girls, who helped Logan on his path to figuring out who he was. And that was fine.
James didn’t have this problem. He was acutely aware of who and what he was from the time he could walk. James was a Diamond, he was strong and resilient and could shine like no other, these were the things his mother had told him whenever he caught her crying in her bedroom, or rearranging the furniture for the 17th time that week.
He was very much like his mother, feeling everything so sharply that it cut to the bone, leaving everything else by the wayside, blurry and unfocused in its unimportance.
“You need goals.” His mother had said. “Goals are there for when everything feels too hard. You can never lose your way as long as you never lose your dream.”
All he wanted was her happiness, really, to make her smile the way she used to.
His solution was the little concerts he put on for her in the kitchen, the way her eyes lit up when he sang for only her.
When she looked at him, proudly, the way she'd once looked at his Dad, he felt whole.
It made it easier to deal with everything that went on around him. It was his, his own private dream. James was going to be famous, a popstar, and that was that.
So when he fell in love with a boy who didn’t know what he was feeling, James focused on his dream and pushed everything else aside, because that was something else that Diamond’s did, the very best protection for the most fragile of hearts.
--
Kendall took the CD from Logan’s laptop bag while Logan was busy flirting with the coffee guy after school one day. He copied it at his Dad’s studio and returned it the next time he saw him. It was swift and sneaky, and totally worth it.
It’s strange to look at James and hear his voice echo through the speakers as it has one hundred times before, because unlike those times Kendall listened alone, aching for someone who could understand everything, at this moment he could reach over and touch him.
The boy with the voice, the one that’s carried Kendall’s heart for so long without even knowing it.
“How did you get this?” asks James quietly, eyes on the floor.
“I’m sorry,” is all Kendall manages to say in reply. He thinks about telling the truth, about coming out as a stalker/thief. He doesn’t get the chance.
“Wait,” says James, eyes suddenly full of hope, “Did your Dad give you this?”
Because that’s it really. Everything, all the time, every good thing in Kendall’s life, is tainted by Hank Knight.
--
It takes a moment to actually figure out what’s going on. How his voice is echoing though Kendall’s speakers. He looks over at Carlos, looking just as confused as James feels, and remembers playing the song for him, just once, how he’d never seen Carlos heartbroken before, and never wanted to again.
And then he remembers. The only other people he gave his song to.
James’ heart soars.
He never heard back from Hank Knight from Armor records or anyone else he sent his demo to, frankly. But if Kendall has the CD, Hank must have listened to it too...
“Wait; did your Dad give you this? Did he actually like my song? I didn’t hear anything back but I just assumed he didn’t listen but if you have it…that means something right?” He’s desperate now, but Kendall’s looking at him gravely, and it sends shivers down James’ spine.
“Stop the car.” Kendall commands, and Carlos obliges, pulling out of the traffic swiftly.
“We’re here. You should go.” Kendall continues gruffly, and continues to stare at James, eyes like fire.
“I can’t give you what you want.” He says, “I haven’t spoken to my Dad in a month, I can’t make you famous, so just go.” James falters,
“Kendall, I-“
“Get out of my car, and go.”
--
“Your phones ringing.”
It’s the first thing Camille’s said since they left the car.
Kendall looks at the caller id, rolls his eyes and puts the phone away.
“Jo. Again.” He says to Camille, who looks at him sadly.
He’s been ducking her calls and texts all night. Her name flashing on his screen sending him into memories of drunken dance parties and hungry kisses under flashing lights.
Then he’s at Bob’s, fingers around James’ throat as James moves in to kiss him. Next he’s shoving James against the wall in the bathroom of the karaoke bar, tasting and touching like it’s all he can do to survive.
Then James pushes away from him, and it’s all so damn familiar that Kendall just can’t take it.
He finishes his beer in one go.
“Why don’t you go find Carlos and have some more fun,” he says to Camille, aware that so far her night has been a bust. “I think he was outside checking out some guy’s motorbike.” Camille shakes her head,
“And leave you in here to mope? I don’t think so.”
Kendall looks up and sees a flash of familiar red-streaked hair, and gets an idea.
“Go. I’ll be fine, trust me.”
He disappears into the crowd, hot on the heels of Lucy Stone, the scent of James still lingering on his clothes.
He bursts through the door of Lucy’s change room, where she’s settling down with her guitar on a musty red couch.
“Let’s do it.” Says Kendall by way of greeting, watching her turn and stare at him in surprise.
“You want me? Have me.”
Lucy smiles.
--
James has never smoked a cigarette.
His voice, being his instrument of choice, has never allowed it.
Plus yellowed fingertips are gross.
But right now, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, watching people mill around him, smoking in short sharp puffs, he could really use a drag.
He’s decided he has to hate Kendall. Kendall and his beautiful music and his stupid face and even stupider Dad, is the most annoying person in the world right now. And James should hate him; he really should, because he’s a jerk, and a confusing jerk at that. But he can’t.
This is unfortunate, because James has had enough confusing jerks to last a lifetime.
He’s watching Camille and Carlos chatting to a guy with a ridiculously shiny motorcycle and thinking about all of this when Logan slides down onto the concrete beside him, cigarette in hand, wrapped in a silver tuxedo jacket two sizes too big.
“Hey.” He says, so casually that James could knock him out then and there.
“Hey.” He says instead, and Logan smiles in return.
As James’ insides fizz a little, he curses himself, and stares resolutely out into the street.
“What are you doing here?”
--
Jo was a nice girl.
She was.
She was soft and pretty and gentle, but she was also strong and independent and never took any of Kendall’s crap.
He really, really liked her.
There was a problem though. Something he tried not to think about too much, but couldn’t help but notice.
Jo was never big on public displays of affection. This was perfectly understandable, because that was often gross.
And Kendall was fine with that, until he realized she wasn’t big on any displays of affection past sweet g-rated kisses, even in the privacy of home.
But because Kendall was not a total dick, he didn’t push the physical stuff. He was respectful, because that’s what he was taught to be, and besides, he really liked Jo. He liked to make her laugh, liked to listen to her ridiculous stories about Camille’s latest plans or Logan’s new experiments.
He kind of loved her.
So he would go slowly and sweet with her, kisses and gentle caresses, before running all the way home to a shower, her name running in circles through his mind, his teeth cutting in his forearm.
She never lied to him about it, her reasons for wanting to wait, but that didn’t make it any easier.
He’s run into her twice since she returned from New Zealand in the arms of her ex-costar (Kendall may have misunderstood a group text and gone to meet her at the airport, flowers in hand) and both times she’s been intertwined with the new guy, connected at the tonsils with no sign of slowing down.
He thinks about laying on Jo’s sofa, about wandering hands and distant eyes, his sudden loneliness as she would pull away at the last second.
He thinks about James in that damn bathroom, eyes full of dark sadness as he shied away from Kendall’s touch.
That’s when it occurs to Kendall that maybe the problem wasn’t Jo, or sex, or Jo and sex.
Maybe the problem was him.
This is why he goes to Lucy.
--
“I’m not a villain, you know,” says Logan as he nurses his hot chocolate. They’re out of the gutter now, and sitting in an all hours sandwich shop.
“Really? Cause that goatee makes you look like a cartoon.” Replies James evenly. Logan rolls his eyes,
“I think it looks debonair. And besides, trying new things is important at this point in our lives.”
“You look evil. And weird. And did you have to try that new guy in front of me? At my own show?”
“I didn’t mean for that to happen!” Says Logan hurriedly, but James feels the burn of hot anger begin to rise once more.
“That’s the best you’ve got? You knew I was going to be there! You’re supposed to be smart!”
“Yeah. Kendall always used to say I was pretty dumb for a genius.”
“You’re also a jerk.”
“I am.”
“What?”
“I said I am. You’re right, I’m a jerk.”
“What?”
“What do you want me to do James, I can’t keep apologizing!”
“I don’t want an apology, I just want to understand.”
“No. You don’t.”
“Yes, I do. Tell me why you broke it off or I will pour my hot chocolate all over your boyfriend’s jacket”
“You loved me.”
James stares. That is the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. And Carlos thinks that leprechauns exist, so…
“You loved me and I didn’t feel the same way. It’s not a crime, James, and I didn’t mean to hurt you, but it would have only been made worse had I allowed things to continue. It had to end. I’m sorry”
James considers this a moment. Remembers walking in on Logan and that guy from the coffee shop, and running home in the wind and rain.
“Ok.” he says finally, to Logan's surprise.
“Ok?”
“But you shouldn’t have cheated on me. That sucked.”
“That is...valid. I am sorry about that. I didn’t not care about you, ok? I just didn’t care as much as you and it felt unfair to keep going like that. Like I was keeping all that love to myself, instead of letting you give it to someone who deserves it.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
There's silence. Or as much silence as New York on a Saturday night can offer.
“You were really good tonight. I like it when you sing that way, when you get all emotional, it really resonates.”
“Thanks. Um, I should probably apologize too. Not as much as you of course but, uh, about Kendall. I didn’t know you guys were friends; I thought he was just a poorly-dressed stranger. Who I wanted to use to make you jealous”
“Kendall’s a good guy.” Says Logan slowly.
“Yeah,” James smiles. “I even told him about my tiny elephant idea, and he only laughed a little.”
Logan laughs.
“Of course he did.”
“Were you jealous?” asks James seriously. Logan smiles at him,
“Totally.”
“Good.”
“So, you guys aren’t dating then?”
“No,” James frowns, “I thought there might be something, but he got super mad at me.”
“Yeah. He has a little problem with anger management.” Logan laughs again, but James sighs.
“I think I really like him, Logan.”
“Yeah, that’ll happen.”
--
Lucy confuses Kendall.
He’s known her since they were toddlers, running around studios and backstage at gigs, driving their fathers insane and wooing performers and officials city-wide.
She’s been teasing him about sex since they were thirteen.
He first kissed a guy in her bedroom when they were fourteen.
They’ve played this game, this flirtation, this competition, since they were sixteen. They taunt and tease, and don’t back down until they come close to kissing, and fall apart in peals of laughter.
Sometimes her eyes flash something serious, as though she really does want to throw down and do this for real. It’s usually gone in a matter of seconds.
Lucy doesn’t need him; not really, she’s followed by adoring fans where ever she goes. Young men with bright eyes and torn t-shirts chase after her like lost puppies, hopelessly in love with his rockstar best friend.
She’s standing now, taking his measure as he stands in her doorway. She looks him up and down, intrigued.
“Have me.” He repeats himself, anger still pulsing through his veins. She moves towards him confidently, as she always does, a smirk playing on her lips and she reaches up and kisses him deeply, slamming the door shut with her free hand.
He lifts his own hands and touches her hair, but it feels all wrong somehow.
He feels her bite his lip a little, but the sensation is not the thrill it was before.
With James
He kisses Lucy harder, trying to push James out of his mind. It doesn’t work.
“This isn’t working.” She says as she pulls away, still smiling as though she has all the answers.
“Of course it is.” He says bullishly, and starts to tug at her leather jacket.
“Kendall.”
“It could!” says Kendall defensively, but Lucy shakes her head.
“Why now?” she asks, already knowing the answer.
“I just want you.” He lies, badly.
“God.” She laughs now, rich and high, carefree. And then she takes his hand, and leads him to the couch.
“You need to stop. We need to stop.” She says, all light gone from her eyes. That scares him a bit.
“I think it’s time this game finished.”
“No, it makes sense!” He says, arms flailing wildly now that Lucy’s out of reach.
“We’ve been friends forever, we flirt like crazy, and we’re both awesome.”
“You’re gay.” Lucy says bluntly.
“No, I…” Kendall starts to argue, but deflates against the couch.
“Don’t like labels, I know.” Lucy says gently, moving back over and placing a hand on his knee. “Tell me about the pretty boy from earlier.”
So he does.
He tells her about James, and all that has happened, the way he can still feel James’ hand on his own, the way he wants to destroy him, but also, maybe just wants him.
And Lucy listens, and it’s the most honest and pure moment they’ve had in years, the bravado and the teasing put aside as she smiles at him genuinely before breaking into a (more familiar) shit-eating grin.
“You need to sack-up.” She says, and Kendall stares in disbelief. “You like him. Cut the crap and go get him.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Actually Buddy, the way he was looking at you, when he wasn’t looking at me that is, I think it is that easy.”
“But you…”
“Yeahhh. I’m a rockstar, and I’ve been dating my bassist for three and a half months. I think I’ll be ok.”
Kendall stares.
Lucy shoves him.
“Now, go get yourself a pretty boyfriend!”
--
“We rode a motorcycle!” Grins Camille as she and Carlos pounce on James by the bar.
“And got tattoos!” adds Carlos gleefully. The tattoo is fake, and looks fake, but their excitement is palpable and James is feeling pretty buzzed himself at this point, so he’s happy to look past it.
“Have you guys seen Kendall?” He half shouts above the crowd, who are getting louder in anticipation of WUNY.
“I have.” Answers Mercedes Griffin, smiling as she sidles up and puts her hand on Carlos’ shoulder. Carlos looks as though he could faint. Camille just rolls her eyes.
“He came out of Lucy Stone’s dressing room a few minutes ago. They were all sweaty and disheveled. Like homeless people running a marathon or something.” She grins and waves as she walks away.
James feels his heart drop.
“James, are you ok?” asks Camille,
“No.” says James. And then he runs.
--
Kendall’s searching the crowd for Camille when he’s yanked into the girls’ bathroom.
“You have got to stop doing that!” He shouts, but Camille stands with her arms crossed, her face grave.
“Did you sleep with Lucy Stone?” she asks evenly,
“No? Where did you…No, no! I didn’t. I was going to, but nothing happened. We just talked.”
“Were you talking about sex?”
“No? We were talking about James, so, kind of yes, I guess…”
Kendall breaks into a smile, “Where is James anyway? I have to tell him something.”
“He’s gone. He left when Mercedes told him she caught you sneaking out of Lucy’s change room.”
Kendall pushes and shoves his way to the front door of the club, Camille hot on his tail. Carlos is waiting there, Kendall’s car keys in hand, his face even more serious than Camille’s.
“What the hell did you do?” Shouts Carlos as he barrels into Kendall, slamming him against the brick wall.
“I didn’t do anything!”
“Really? That’s what you’re going with?”
“Dude, I swear, nothing happened. I don’t want to hurt James. Well I did a little, but not anymore. And Lucy and I just talked, and now I need to find James, because I fucked everything up. ”
Carlos rolls his eyes, but lowers his hands from Kendall’s chest.
“You’re an idiot.”
“Yeah.”
“He doesn’t need any more bullshit, ok?”
“I swear I’m not going to do that to him. I'm not Logan” Carlos sighs,
“Fine. Palmwoods Diner, third booth on the right. That’s where he’ll be.”
Kendall turns to Camille,
“Cam?”
“Oh no, Genius, this mess is yours to fix. Besides,” she says, slipping her hand into Carlos’s, “I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”
Kendall raises an eyebrow but says nothing, snatching his keys from Carlos’ free hand and turning tail
.
“Hey!” Shouts Carlos behind him, “Don’t make eye contact with the waitresses!”
The Palmwoods is the most ridiculous place Kendall has ever seen.
It makes total sense that this is James’ favorite place in New York.
The place is insanely kitschy; with it’s over the top 50’s décor and Americana paraphernalia. It’s bursting with bright reds and oranges, and the waitresses are in pink poodle skirts and its all very rock and roll and very very lame.
There’s a jukebox in the centre of the restaurant, but there’s also a stage off to the side, where a lone guitarist sits, hair gelled back Elvis-style, warbling out some lovesick old ballad to a small group of drunk and swaying teens. By the counter stands a round man in Elvis’ jeweled tux, his own hair a sad impression of the guitarists'.
The three waitresses watch as Kendall enters, then walk towards him, every step in unison, and apparently slow motion, until they’re right in front of him, and glaring.
“Can we help you?” asks the blonde in the middle,
“I’m looking for my friend.” He mumbles, trying not to look at their faces, but also not their boobs, lest he get kicked in the crotch.
Or eaten alive.
The girls point, Kendall turns and walks, very quickly.
James is exactly where Carlos said he would be, seated at a table that is absolutely covered in food.
“Did you order the entire menu?” Kendall says by way of greeting as he sits down opposite James, who gives only a fleeting glance in return.
“James?” Kendall presses, hopefully.
“Everything but the pasta marinara. It’s gross.” James mumbles into his fries.
“I didn’t know what I wanted, except that I didn’t want that. I’m pretty sure Carlos is the only person who eats the pasta here.” Every word is pouty and petulant, he’s sulking, and it only makes Kendall feel worse. But when he looks up, there's a glint in his eye,
“You don’t know what you want either, do you Kendall?” He’s right of course, but only tonight, this night where everything’s topsy turvy and Kendall’s chest is full and heavy.
Nothing is making sense tonight.
“Look, what Mercedes thought she saw.”
James rolls his eyes,
“Let me guess, it isn’t what I think? That’s not familiar at all.” Kendall feels awful, but James is pushing all his buttons, so naturally, he snaps,
“Hey, you were the one who said you couldn’t do it or whatever.”
“Because you think you can just take whatever you want, and get away with it.” James glares at him, daggers in Kendall’s direction.
“What are you talking about?”
“Everyone knows you here. You could walk into any record company in the city and get a damned three year contract, all because your daddy’s Hank Knight, and its bullshit! Do you know how long I’ve been practicing? How long I’ve been working my ass off, just to get where I am? Where I am is nothing, Kendall, it’s nothing, but at least I’ve earned it. So what if I didn’t kiss you, you got what you wanted with Lucy anyway, right?”
“Ok, first of all, fuck you. Second of all, nothing happened between Lucy and me.”
“Sure.”
“No, seriously, James? Fuck you. Who gives a fuck if people know my name? You know what they all see when they look at me? They see an in, a gateway to superstardom and all that bullshit because they think that can get through me to my Dad. My Dad who won’t even look at me, because I’m such a fucking disappointment. You know, he’d love for me to go get a record deal. Or do drugs, or crash a Hollywood party or do anything, worthy of being Hank Knight’s son, but I don’t want any of that, I don’t. I don’t want your girls, or your parties, or any of that. So fuck you.”
Kendall gets up to leave, but James grabs his hand.
“Nothing happened?”
“Nothing happened.” Kendall collapses back into the booth, tired. James looks at him, something like sadness in his eyes,
“Do you think you’re better than me?” Kendall’s heart just about breaks on the spot.
“I think we’re both as fucked up as each other.” he says slowly, hand still in James’
“You took my CD from Logan.” Kendall tries to tug his hand away, but James doesn’t let go.
“Yeah.” James cocks his head,
“Did you like it?”
“Honestly? You sound best like that. It’s heartbreaking, and honest, and real. It’s really beautiful.”
“I’m sorry about your Dad.”
“Me too.”
And then Kendall’s phone rings.
“You should go and talk to her.” Says James earnestly, gripping Kendall’s hand a little tighter.
“Seriously. Camille and Carlos are still at The Rocque, right? Take me back there, and go find Jo.”
Kendall nods, and heads to the bathroom, desperate for a splash of water and a clearer head. When he gets to the door, the trio of angry girl waitresses stands in his way and hand him James’ ridiculous bill.
Outside, leaning on the bonnet of Kendall’s car, James gives a grin and a wave.
The blonde waitress smiles too, her own not quite as friendly.
“And eyebrows?” she smarms, “Don’t forget the tip.”
--
“You what?” Shouts James incredulously over the loud din of Wake up New York’s warm-up act.
“We totally got in a bar fight!” yells Carlos as he and Camille bounce in unison to the thumping beat.
“I pulled a girl’s hair!” squeals Camille excitedly. “It was awesome!”
James doesn’t ask how they were allowed back in after this fight, opting instead to bounce around with them.
“This is awesome!”
--
It turns out Jo was stranded. Not the whole time she was texting and calling Kendall, just the last hour or so. So she’s not exactly happy when Kendall finally comes to the rescue.
“You are the worst New Yorker ever.” He says as he changes her tyre.
“I hurt my wrist! That’s not my fault! And besides, no one in New York knows how to change a tyre, because everyone here is smart enough not to drive!”
“Except for you apparently.”
“You drove here too, you know.”
“Yeah, but I can change a tyre.”
“I hurt my wrist!”
They collapse into her car a few minutes later, and he fiddles with her sound system until her bootleg of Wake up New York begins to play.
“So someone finally met James, huh?”
“Yup. Turns out he wasn’t Logan’s invisible friend after all.”
“I think that means we owe Camille money…”
“What do I get for making out with him?”
“I don’t think that was on the market.”
Kendall sighs, leaning back into the seat,
“I kind of hate you, you know?”
“Is that why you weren’t answering my calls?”
“Would you have answered your calls?”
“Probably not, no. But I rang so many people for help, I even rang your sister!”
“It’s 3am. She’s twelve.”
“Yeah. I don’t think your sister sleeps.”
“Jo?”
“Yeah?”
“Why didn’t we go back to the way we were, you know, once you got back?”
Jo sighs now too, letting her head fall back against the head rest.
“We weren’t happy Kendall. I think we got so complacent, so used to what we were doing, I didn’t realize until I went away that relationships aren’t really supposed to be that way.”
“You make out with Dak a lot.”
“I do. Does that bother you?”
“It did, a lot. It made me hate you, which sucked. But I don’t know that it does bother me so much anymore.”
“So you’ll stop hating me then?”
“Give me another week, ok? I deserve at least that.”
“Thanks for not leaving me on the side of the road.”
She looks at him then, her eyes warm and familiar. It’s the look she used to give him after a long night out, makeup rubbed from her eyes, hair hanging limp around her face. It was such a contrast from who she was on those long city nights, with big hair and a big voice, everyone looking at her, Kendall quiet in the shadows.
She was always softer in the afterglow, quieter, as though the whole great show had tired her out. He liked her best then, the private moments where she was less girly she-beast, more human.
“I’m going to hug you now,” he says, awkwardly maneuvering around the stick shift and looping his arms around her.
He pulls her body towards him, holds her close, and breathes.
--
Part Four
Fandom: Big Time Rush, for the palmwoods Harvestfest Fic Fest
Disclaimer: I don't own BTR, Nick + Norah or anything else of value.
Pairings: Kendall/James, side Camille/Carlos (No idea. I have no idea.) Past Kendall/Jo, James/Logan
Warnings: Bad words, References to sex and masturbation, underage drinking, strippers
Word Count: Part 3 6,029 Total 16,151
Prompt: Nick and Norah’s infinite playlist. But with boykissing.
Author’s Note: So this happened. Title from "We Are Young" By Fun.
Summary: Two messed up kids in New York City. Also, they fall in love.
Three
Camille and Carlos stand outside Madrigal’s with Bob from Bob’s, who’s looking as normal as ever in his tux and sandals, a pink drink umbrella sticking out of his beard.
Camille is draped in Carlos’ jacket and swaying a little, she crash tackles Kendall as soon as Kendall and James get within ten meters of the taxi rank.
“Hii!” squeals Camille, hair flying, “How was your wa-alk?” she singsongs, and Kendall cocks an eyebrow at her.
“Where’d the guy in the suit go?” He asks of the Wall Street Mouthkisser,
“Oh that guy? He left hours ago. Something about all you can eat ribs. Now we’re going to a strip club, it was Carlos’ idea, isn’t that great?!”
Kendall doesn’t think it’s a great idea at all, but he hugs Camille close and smiles.
“Sounds wonderful. Very rebellious.” She beams at this, staring up at him all starry-eyed and giggly.
“So did you guys have fun on your journey to find some air?” she asks, and Kendall shakes his head.
“You are drunk,” is all he says,
“Delightfully so. Isn’t it great? But seriously Kendall Knight, you and James should just fucking date already, because you’re both awesome, but sad, and dating people makes you happy and Carlos and I think you should both be happy while dating together! Also, you should come to the strip club with us.”
“Ok,” says Kendall, despite all better instincts. “Where are we going and how are we going to get in? I don’t have any, uh, connections.”
The last word is a whisper for Camille’s ears only. Not that it matters, James is in deep conversation with Carlos and not paying attention to Kendall and Camille anyway.
“I do.” says Bob, who apparently hears like a bat. Kendall stares, open-mouthed,
“Don’t you have a club to run?” Bob considers this for a moment, then shrugs,
“It’s cool.” He says, “I probably left someone in charge.”
They last six minutes in the club. Bob’s connections aren’t quite as reliable as Kendall’s, and the quality of the venue is not really to their standard.
“Well, that was an experience.” Says Kendall once they’re back in the car.
“How do I un-experience it?” asks Carlos, hugging his knees to his chest.
“They had nice hair, I guess.” Offers James weakly, looking positively green.
“I still can’t believe that thing with the duck. That was really something,” says Camille, unflinchingly chipper.
They drive for ten minutes before they realize they left Bob behind.
“You know, it’s probably for the best,” says Kendall. No-one argues.
--
James is glad when karaoke is suggested as a palate-cleanser, and Carlos offers to drive, allowing Kendall to actually have a few drinks and, hopefully, relax a little.
Ever since they ran into Lucy Stone he’s barely looked at James, instead opting to stare moodily at much less attractive things, such as the ground.
He kind of forgets about it once they enter the bar though, because it's there that Camille blows his mind.
Camille is an amazing duet partner. Up there on stage she shines, everything about her is magnified, extraordinarily vibrant and beautiful.
James is pretty sure he’s never met someone more perfectly suited to the stage, even himself.
By the fourth rendition of Endless Love (One practice, one with the expected gender roles, one with swapped gender roles and one ‘good’ one) James is pretty sure he has a new best friend, Carlos is giving a standing ovation and while Kendall is shaking his head, he’s also smiling.
Though it’s still a surprise when Kendall gets up and takes to the stage.
James isn’t expecting much, Kendall has barely mentioned anything about music all night, listing hockey and hockey alone as his one passion, only asking a few questions about James and the band.
Then Felix, the bartender, drags out his acoustic guitar and sends it up to the stage and suddenly it’s less karaoke and more a chance for James to stare in shock as Kendall sings.
Kendall is good.
James has no idea what he’s singing, only that it’s beautiful.
Kendall could be singing about the Ebola virus right now, and still every word would sound sweet and sad and wrap itself around James’ heart in a way that leaves a permanent mark.
He wants to sit and listen forever, to keep Kendall and the guitar in a constant serenade by his side, but as soon as it begins, it’s over. Another singer takes the stage, the guitar is gone, and Kendall is refusing to return James’ gaze.
He doesn’t know what to say. He’s never been great with words, all of The Next Big Thing’s songs are written by Shaun, and James is just the super hot mouthpiece.
But Kendall’s voice feels like something James could write actual poetry about, songs even.
He’s only ever written one song. A broken ballad written in his old treehouse, the night he caught Logan kissing another guy for the first time, two months after they’d started dating. He ran straight home and wrote like the wind, scrawling lyrics onto his mother’s best stationery, tears and ink mixing in a barely legible melody.
He put it on one of Logan’s mix CDs once, just to see what would happen.
Logan never mentioned it.
James may accost Kendall in the bathroom.
“How come you didn’t tell me you could do that?” he says as Kendall splashes water on his face.
“It didn’t come up.”
“But Dude, you’re amazing.” Kendall rolls his eyes,
“I think you’re delirious from too much Endless Love.”
“Kendall, come on. You can’t be serious right now. Why aren’t you out there? That was awesome, what the hell is stopping you?” Kendall just looks at him, tired, the way his mother use to look at the end of 12 hour working days and all James wanted to do was sing for her.
”It’s not like you don’t have connections; surely one of those club owners would give you a spot! Or your Dad?”
Kendall stares, stony-faced,
“I’m a hockey player, James, not a singer.”
“But you could be famous!” James cries, exasperated.
“Not everyone wants to be a stupid popstar.” Kendall rolls his eyes like it doesn’t matter.
It does though. The words cut James to the quick, but he brushes it off.
“Of course they do! Everybody wants to be famous!”
“I don’t.”
“Well apparently, you’re insane.”
“Just drop it, James.”
“Fine.” James shouts, and turns to leave, but feels Kendall’s hand close firmly on his wrist.
“Don’t,” is all Kendall says before he steps forward and kisses him, hard.
Blood is rushing to his head before James can even register what’s happening, and then they’re tearing at each other’s clothes and hair, kissing and pulling at anything they can get a firm grip on.
Kendall’s teeth dig into James’ lower lip until he tastes blood, and, shifting in retaliation, he nips at Kendall’s neck, and sucks at the skin until it blooms red, a mark to stay in semi-permanence, one to match his own. A reminder that James was there, solid and real in every way.
Kendall only laughs, the cocky smirk never leaving his face.
It’s infuriating.
“You wear a ridiculous amount of glitter.” Says Kendall matter-of-factly.
James kind of wants to hit him.
“You think you can get whatever you want.” He says as Kendall nibbles his earlobe, “Just because they all know your name. You think you’re better than me, because I want to be famous.”
James can live with anger. He can live with Kendall being all self-righteous and too good for James’ dreams.
Anger is all he’s really felt lately, once he moved past the hurt at least. But now as Kendall smiles that smile and goes for his lips once more, every motion brimming with the swagger of ownership, of power, the anger is a burden, pushing on James’ chest and making it hard to breathe.
“I can’t.” He mutters, and Kendall goes cold.
They leave the bathroom minutes apart.
When Kendall suggests they head to The Rocque to catch Lucy and Wake up New York, James only nods.
Silence is not something James deals with very well. Carlos has barely pulled out into the traffic before James is bored and restless.
He resorts to flicking through Kendall’s insane CD collection once more, wondering how someone can possibly enjoy such awesome bands and also BoyzCity.
At the bottom of the pile is a loose disk, which James picks up out of curiosity. The CD is unlabelled, the only one of its kind, and a little scratched from use and time.
James puts it on because he likes mysteries, and riddles, and fun things like that.
When his own voice fills the car, cracking and breaking to the rhythm of the guitar, James can’t breathe.
He was never completely in the dark.
James knew that Logan had a wandering eye, knew that his intentions were never to hurt James outright, but that he was trying to figure himself out.
For Logan that meant the scientific approach of trying out every possible method he could find.
So there were other guys, and occasionally girls, who helped Logan on his path to figuring out who he was. And that was fine.
James didn’t have this problem. He was acutely aware of who and what he was from the time he could walk. James was a Diamond, he was strong and resilient and could shine like no other, these were the things his mother had told him whenever he caught her crying in her bedroom, or rearranging the furniture for the 17th time that week.
He was very much like his mother, feeling everything so sharply that it cut to the bone, leaving everything else by the wayside, blurry and unfocused in its unimportance.
“You need goals.” His mother had said. “Goals are there for when everything feels too hard. You can never lose your way as long as you never lose your dream.”
All he wanted was her happiness, really, to make her smile the way she used to.
His solution was the little concerts he put on for her in the kitchen, the way her eyes lit up when he sang for only her.
When she looked at him, proudly, the way she'd once looked at his Dad, he felt whole.
It made it easier to deal with everything that went on around him. It was his, his own private dream. James was going to be famous, a popstar, and that was that.
So when he fell in love with a boy who didn’t know what he was feeling, James focused on his dream and pushed everything else aside, because that was something else that Diamond’s did, the very best protection for the most fragile of hearts.
--
Kendall took the CD from Logan’s laptop bag while Logan was busy flirting with the coffee guy after school one day. He copied it at his Dad’s studio and returned it the next time he saw him. It was swift and sneaky, and totally worth it.
It’s strange to look at James and hear his voice echo through the speakers as it has one hundred times before, because unlike those times Kendall listened alone, aching for someone who could understand everything, at this moment he could reach over and touch him.
The boy with the voice, the one that’s carried Kendall’s heart for so long without even knowing it.
“How did you get this?” asks James quietly, eyes on the floor.
“I’m sorry,” is all Kendall manages to say in reply. He thinks about telling the truth, about coming out as a stalker/thief. He doesn’t get the chance.
“Wait,” says James, eyes suddenly full of hope, “Did your Dad give you this?”
Because that’s it really. Everything, all the time, every good thing in Kendall’s life, is tainted by Hank Knight.
--
It takes a moment to actually figure out what’s going on. How his voice is echoing though Kendall’s speakers. He looks over at Carlos, looking just as confused as James feels, and remembers playing the song for him, just once, how he’d never seen Carlos heartbroken before, and never wanted to again.
And then he remembers. The only other people he gave his song to.
James’ heart soars.
He never heard back from Hank Knight from Armor records or anyone else he sent his demo to, frankly. But if Kendall has the CD, Hank must have listened to it too...
“Wait; did your Dad give you this? Did he actually like my song? I didn’t hear anything back but I just assumed he didn’t listen but if you have it…that means something right?” He’s desperate now, but Kendall’s looking at him gravely, and it sends shivers down James’ spine.
“Stop the car.” Kendall commands, and Carlos obliges, pulling out of the traffic swiftly.
“We’re here. You should go.” Kendall continues gruffly, and continues to stare at James, eyes like fire.
“I can’t give you what you want.” He says, “I haven’t spoken to my Dad in a month, I can’t make you famous, so just go.” James falters,
“Kendall, I-“
“Get out of my car, and go.”
--
“Your phones ringing.”
It’s the first thing Camille’s said since they left the car.
Kendall looks at the caller id, rolls his eyes and puts the phone away.
“Jo. Again.” He says to Camille, who looks at him sadly.
He’s been ducking her calls and texts all night. Her name flashing on his screen sending him into memories of drunken dance parties and hungry kisses under flashing lights.
Then he’s at Bob’s, fingers around James’ throat as James moves in to kiss him. Next he’s shoving James against the wall in the bathroom of the karaoke bar, tasting and touching like it’s all he can do to survive.
Then James pushes away from him, and it’s all so damn familiar that Kendall just can’t take it.
He finishes his beer in one go.
“Why don’t you go find Carlos and have some more fun,” he says to Camille, aware that so far her night has been a bust. “I think he was outside checking out some guy’s motorbike.” Camille shakes her head,
“And leave you in here to mope? I don’t think so.”
Kendall looks up and sees a flash of familiar red-streaked hair, and gets an idea.
“Go. I’ll be fine, trust me.”
He disappears into the crowd, hot on the heels of Lucy Stone, the scent of James still lingering on his clothes.
He bursts through the door of Lucy’s change room, where she’s settling down with her guitar on a musty red couch.
“Let’s do it.” Says Kendall by way of greeting, watching her turn and stare at him in surprise.
“You want me? Have me.”
Lucy smiles.
--
James has never smoked a cigarette.
His voice, being his instrument of choice, has never allowed it.
Plus yellowed fingertips are gross.
But right now, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk, watching people mill around him, smoking in short sharp puffs, he could really use a drag.
He’s decided he has to hate Kendall. Kendall and his beautiful music and his stupid face and even stupider Dad, is the most annoying person in the world right now. And James should hate him; he really should, because he’s a jerk, and a confusing jerk at that. But he can’t.
This is unfortunate, because James has had enough confusing jerks to last a lifetime.
He’s watching Camille and Carlos chatting to a guy with a ridiculously shiny motorcycle and thinking about all of this when Logan slides down onto the concrete beside him, cigarette in hand, wrapped in a silver tuxedo jacket two sizes too big.
“Hey.” He says, so casually that James could knock him out then and there.
“Hey.” He says instead, and Logan smiles in return.
As James’ insides fizz a little, he curses himself, and stares resolutely out into the street.
“What are you doing here?”
--
Jo was a nice girl.
She was.
She was soft and pretty and gentle, but she was also strong and independent and never took any of Kendall’s crap.
He really, really liked her.
There was a problem though. Something he tried not to think about too much, but couldn’t help but notice.
Jo was never big on public displays of affection. This was perfectly understandable, because that was often gross.
And Kendall was fine with that, until he realized she wasn’t big on any displays of affection past sweet g-rated kisses, even in the privacy of home.
But because Kendall was not a total dick, he didn’t push the physical stuff. He was respectful, because that’s what he was taught to be, and besides, he really liked Jo. He liked to make her laugh, liked to listen to her ridiculous stories about Camille’s latest plans or Logan’s new experiments.
He kind of loved her.
So he would go slowly and sweet with her, kisses and gentle caresses, before running all the way home to a shower, her name running in circles through his mind, his teeth cutting in his forearm.
She never lied to him about it, her reasons for wanting to wait, but that didn’t make it any easier.
He’s run into her twice since she returned from New Zealand in the arms of her ex-costar (Kendall may have misunderstood a group text and gone to meet her at the airport, flowers in hand) and both times she’s been intertwined with the new guy, connected at the tonsils with no sign of slowing down.
He thinks about laying on Jo’s sofa, about wandering hands and distant eyes, his sudden loneliness as she would pull away at the last second.
He thinks about James in that damn bathroom, eyes full of dark sadness as he shied away from Kendall’s touch.
That’s when it occurs to Kendall that maybe the problem wasn’t Jo, or sex, or Jo and sex.
Maybe the problem was him.
This is why he goes to Lucy.
--
“I’m not a villain, you know,” says Logan as he nurses his hot chocolate. They’re out of the gutter now, and sitting in an all hours sandwich shop.
“Really? Cause that goatee makes you look like a cartoon.” Replies James evenly. Logan rolls his eyes,
“I think it looks debonair. And besides, trying new things is important at this point in our lives.”
“You look evil. And weird. And did you have to try that new guy in front of me? At my own show?”
“I didn’t mean for that to happen!” Says Logan hurriedly, but James feels the burn of hot anger begin to rise once more.
“That’s the best you’ve got? You knew I was going to be there! You’re supposed to be smart!”
“Yeah. Kendall always used to say I was pretty dumb for a genius.”
“You’re also a jerk.”
“I am.”
“What?”
“I said I am. You’re right, I’m a jerk.”
“What?”
“What do you want me to do James, I can’t keep apologizing!”
“I don’t want an apology, I just want to understand.”
“No. You don’t.”
“Yes, I do. Tell me why you broke it off or I will pour my hot chocolate all over your boyfriend’s jacket”
“You loved me.”
James stares. That is the stupidest thing he’s ever heard. And Carlos thinks that leprechauns exist, so…
“You loved me and I didn’t feel the same way. It’s not a crime, James, and I didn’t mean to hurt you, but it would have only been made worse had I allowed things to continue. It had to end. I’m sorry”
James considers this a moment. Remembers walking in on Logan and that guy from the coffee shop, and running home in the wind and rain.
“Ok.” he says finally, to Logan's surprise.
“Ok?”
“But you shouldn’t have cheated on me. That sucked.”
“That is...valid. I am sorry about that. I didn’t not care about you, ok? I just didn’t care as much as you and it felt unfair to keep going like that. Like I was keeping all that love to myself, instead of letting you give it to someone who deserves it.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
There's silence. Or as much silence as New York on a Saturday night can offer.
“You were really good tonight. I like it when you sing that way, when you get all emotional, it really resonates.”
“Thanks. Um, I should probably apologize too. Not as much as you of course but, uh, about Kendall. I didn’t know you guys were friends; I thought he was just a poorly-dressed stranger. Who I wanted to use to make you jealous”
“Kendall’s a good guy.” Says Logan slowly.
“Yeah,” James smiles. “I even told him about my tiny elephant idea, and he only laughed a little.”
Logan laughs.
“Of course he did.”
“Were you jealous?” asks James seriously. Logan smiles at him,
“Totally.”
“Good.”
“So, you guys aren’t dating then?”
“No,” James frowns, “I thought there might be something, but he got super mad at me.”
“Yeah. He has a little problem with anger management.” Logan laughs again, but James sighs.
“I think I really like him, Logan.”
“Yeah, that’ll happen.”
--
Lucy confuses Kendall.
He’s known her since they were toddlers, running around studios and backstage at gigs, driving their fathers insane and wooing performers and officials city-wide.
She’s been teasing him about sex since they were thirteen.
He first kissed a guy in her bedroom when they were fourteen.
They’ve played this game, this flirtation, this competition, since they were sixteen. They taunt and tease, and don’t back down until they come close to kissing, and fall apart in peals of laughter.
Sometimes her eyes flash something serious, as though she really does want to throw down and do this for real. It’s usually gone in a matter of seconds.
Lucy doesn’t need him; not really, she’s followed by adoring fans where ever she goes. Young men with bright eyes and torn t-shirts chase after her like lost puppies, hopelessly in love with his rockstar best friend.
She’s standing now, taking his measure as he stands in her doorway. She looks him up and down, intrigued.
“Have me.” He repeats himself, anger still pulsing through his veins. She moves towards him confidently, as she always does, a smirk playing on her lips and she reaches up and kisses him deeply, slamming the door shut with her free hand.
He lifts his own hands and touches her hair, but it feels all wrong somehow.
He feels her bite his lip a little, but the sensation is not the thrill it was before.
With James
He kisses Lucy harder, trying to push James out of his mind. It doesn’t work.
“This isn’t working.” She says as she pulls away, still smiling as though she has all the answers.
“Of course it is.” He says bullishly, and starts to tug at her leather jacket.
“Kendall.”
“It could!” says Kendall defensively, but Lucy shakes her head.
“Why now?” she asks, already knowing the answer.
“I just want you.” He lies, badly.
“God.” She laughs now, rich and high, carefree. And then she takes his hand, and leads him to the couch.
“You need to stop. We need to stop.” She says, all light gone from her eyes. That scares him a bit.
“I think it’s time this game finished.”
“No, it makes sense!” He says, arms flailing wildly now that Lucy’s out of reach.
“We’ve been friends forever, we flirt like crazy, and we’re both awesome.”
“You’re gay.” Lucy says bluntly.
“No, I…” Kendall starts to argue, but deflates against the couch.
“Don’t like labels, I know.” Lucy says gently, moving back over and placing a hand on his knee. “Tell me about the pretty boy from earlier.”
So he does.
He tells her about James, and all that has happened, the way he can still feel James’ hand on his own, the way he wants to destroy him, but also, maybe just wants him.
And Lucy listens, and it’s the most honest and pure moment they’ve had in years, the bravado and the teasing put aside as she smiles at him genuinely before breaking into a (more familiar) shit-eating grin.
“You need to sack-up.” She says, and Kendall stares in disbelief. “You like him. Cut the crap and go get him.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Actually Buddy, the way he was looking at you, when he wasn’t looking at me that is, I think it is that easy.”
“But you…”
“Yeahhh. I’m a rockstar, and I’ve been dating my bassist for three and a half months. I think I’ll be ok.”
Kendall stares.
Lucy shoves him.
“Now, go get yourself a pretty boyfriend!”
--
“We rode a motorcycle!” Grins Camille as she and Carlos pounce on James by the bar.
“And got tattoos!” adds Carlos gleefully. The tattoo is fake, and looks fake, but their excitement is palpable and James is feeling pretty buzzed himself at this point, so he’s happy to look past it.
“Have you guys seen Kendall?” He half shouts above the crowd, who are getting louder in anticipation of WUNY.
“I have.” Answers Mercedes Griffin, smiling as she sidles up and puts her hand on Carlos’ shoulder. Carlos looks as though he could faint. Camille just rolls her eyes.
“He came out of Lucy Stone’s dressing room a few minutes ago. They were all sweaty and disheveled. Like homeless people running a marathon or something.” She grins and waves as she walks away.
James feels his heart drop.
“James, are you ok?” asks Camille,
“No.” says James. And then he runs.
--
Kendall’s searching the crowd for Camille when he’s yanked into the girls’ bathroom.
“You have got to stop doing that!” He shouts, but Camille stands with her arms crossed, her face grave.
“Did you sleep with Lucy Stone?” she asks evenly,
“No? Where did you…No, no! I didn’t. I was going to, but nothing happened. We just talked.”
“Were you talking about sex?”
“No? We were talking about James, so, kind of yes, I guess…”
Kendall breaks into a smile, “Where is James anyway? I have to tell him something.”
“He’s gone. He left when Mercedes told him she caught you sneaking out of Lucy’s change room.”
Kendall pushes and shoves his way to the front door of the club, Camille hot on his tail. Carlos is waiting there, Kendall’s car keys in hand, his face even more serious than Camille’s.
“What the hell did you do?” Shouts Carlos as he barrels into Kendall, slamming him against the brick wall.
“I didn’t do anything!”
“Really? That’s what you’re going with?”
“Dude, I swear, nothing happened. I don’t want to hurt James. Well I did a little, but not anymore. And Lucy and I just talked, and now I need to find James, because I fucked everything up. ”
Carlos rolls his eyes, but lowers his hands from Kendall’s chest.
“You’re an idiot.”
“Yeah.”
“He doesn’t need any more bullshit, ok?”
“I swear I’m not going to do that to him. I'm not Logan” Carlos sighs,
“Fine. Palmwoods Diner, third booth on the right. That’s where he’ll be.”
Kendall turns to Camille,
“Cam?”
“Oh no, Genius, this mess is yours to fix. Besides,” she says, slipping her hand into Carlos’s, “I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”
Kendall raises an eyebrow but says nothing, snatching his keys from Carlos’ free hand and turning tail
.
“Hey!” Shouts Carlos behind him, “Don’t make eye contact with the waitresses!”
The Palmwoods is the most ridiculous place Kendall has ever seen.
It makes total sense that this is James’ favorite place in New York.
The place is insanely kitschy; with it’s over the top 50’s décor and Americana paraphernalia. It’s bursting with bright reds and oranges, and the waitresses are in pink poodle skirts and its all very rock and roll and very very lame.
There’s a jukebox in the centre of the restaurant, but there’s also a stage off to the side, where a lone guitarist sits, hair gelled back Elvis-style, warbling out some lovesick old ballad to a small group of drunk and swaying teens. By the counter stands a round man in Elvis’ jeweled tux, his own hair a sad impression of the guitarists'.
The three waitresses watch as Kendall enters, then walk towards him, every step in unison, and apparently slow motion, until they’re right in front of him, and glaring.
“Can we help you?” asks the blonde in the middle,
“I’m looking for my friend.” He mumbles, trying not to look at their faces, but also not their boobs, lest he get kicked in the crotch.
Or eaten alive.
The girls point, Kendall turns and walks, very quickly.
James is exactly where Carlos said he would be, seated at a table that is absolutely covered in food.
“Did you order the entire menu?” Kendall says by way of greeting as he sits down opposite James, who gives only a fleeting glance in return.
“James?” Kendall presses, hopefully.
“Everything but the pasta marinara. It’s gross.” James mumbles into his fries.
“I didn’t know what I wanted, except that I didn’t want that. I’m pretty sure Carlos is the only person who eats the pasta here.” Every word is pouty and petulant, he’s sulking, and it only makes Kendall feel worse. But when he looks up, there's a glint in his eye,
“You don’t know what you want either, do you Kendall?” He’s right of course, but only tonight, this night where everything’s topsy turvy and Kendall’s chest is full and heavy.
Nothing is making sense tonight.
“Look, what Mercedes thought she saw.”
James rolls his eyes,
“Let me guess, it isn’t what I think? That’s not familiar at all.” Kendall feels awful, but James is pushing all his buttons, so naturally, he snaps,
“Hey, you were the one who said you couldn’t do it or whatever.”
“Because you think you can just take whatever you want, and get away with it.” James glares at him, daggers in Kendall’s direction.
“What are you talking about?”
“Everyone knows you here. You could walk into any record company in the city and get a damned three year contract, all because your daddy’s Hank Knight, and its bullshit! Do you know how long I’ve been practicing? How long I’ve been working my ass off, just to get where I am? Where I am is nothing, Kendall, it’s nothing, but at least I’ve earned it. So what if I didn’t kiss you, you got what you wanted with Lucy anyway, right?”
“Ok, first of all, fuck you. Second of all, nothing happened between Lucy and me.”
“Sure.”
“No, seriously, James? Fuck you. Who gives a fuck if people know my name? You know what they all see when they look at me? They see an in, a gateway to superstardom and all that bullshit because they think that can get through me to my Dad. My Dad who won’t even look at me, because I’m such a fucking disappointment. You know, he’d love for me to go get a record deal. Or do drugs, or crash a Hollywood party or do anything, worthy of being Hank Knight’s son, but I don’t want any of that, I don’t. I don’t want your girls, or your parties, or any of that. So fuck you.”
Kendall gets up to leave, but James grabs his hand.
“Nothing happened?”
“Nothing happened.” Kendall collapses back into the booth, tired. James looks at him, something like sadness in his eyes,
“Do you think you’re better than me?” Kendall’s heart just about breaks on the spot.
“I think we’re both as fucked up as each other.” he says slowly, hand still in James’
“You took my CD from Logan.” Kendall tries to tug his hand away, but James doesn’t let go.
“Yeah.” James cocks his head,
“Did you like it?”
“Honestly? You sound best like that. It’s heartbreaking, and honest, and real. It’s really beautiful.”
“I’m sorry about your Dad.”
“Me too.”
And then Kendall’s phone rings.
“You should go and talk to her.” Says James earnestly, gripping Kendall’s hand a little tighter.
“Seriously. Camille and Carlos are still at The Rocque, right? Take me back there, and go find Jo.”
Kendall nods, and heads to the bathroom, desperate for a splash of water and a clearer head. When he gets to the door, the trio of angry girl waitresses stands in his way and hand him James’ ridiculous bill.
Outside, leaning on the bonnet of Kendall’s car, James gives a grin and a wave.
The blonde waitress smiles too, her own not quite as friendly.
“And eyebrows?” she smarms, “Don’t forget the tip.”
--
“You what?” Shouts James incredulously over the loud din of Wake up New York’s warm-up act.
“We totally got in a bar fight!” yells Carlos as he and Camille bounce in unison to the thumping beat.
“I pulled a girl’s hair!” squeals Camille excitedly. “It was awesome!”
James doesn’t ask how they were allowed back in after this fight, opting instead to bounce around with them.
“This is awesome!”
--
It turns out Jo was stranded. Not the whole time she was texting and calling Kendall, just the last hour or so. So she’s not exactly happy when Kendall finally comes to the rescue.
“You are the worst New Yorker ever.” He says as he changes her tyre.
“I hurt my wrist! That’s not my fault! And besides, no one in New York knows how to change a tyre, because everyone here is smart enough not to drive!”
“Except for you apparently.”
“You drove here too, you know.”
“Yeah, but I can change a tyre.”
“I hurt my wrist!”
They collapse into her car a few minutes later, and he fiddles with her sound system until her bootleg of Wake up New York begins to play.
“So someone finally met James, huh?”
“Yup. Turns out he wasn’t Logan’s invisible friend after all.”
“I think that means we owe Camille money…”
“What do I get for making out with him?”
“I don’t think that was on the market.”
Kendall sighs, leaning back into the seat,
“I kind of hate you, you know?”
“Is that why you weren’t answering my calls?”
“Would you have answered your calls?”
“Probably not, no. But I rang so many people for help, I even rang your sister!”
“It’s 3am. She’s twelve.”
“Yeah. I don’t think your sister sleeps.”
“Jo?”
“Yeah?”
“Why didn’t we go back to the way we were, you know, once you got back?”
Jo sighs now too, letting her head fall back against the head rest.
“We weren’t happy Kendall. I think we got so complacent, so used to what we were doing, I didn’t realize until I went away that relationships aren’t really supposed to be that way.”
“You make out with Dak a lot.”
“I do. Does that bother you?”
“It did, a lot. It made me hate you, which sucked. But I don’t know that it does bother me so much anymore.”
“So you’ll stop hating me then?”
“Give me another week, ok? I deserve at least that.”
“Thanks for not leaving me on the side of the road.”
She looks at him then, her eyes warm and familiar. It’s the look she used to give him after a long night out, makeup rubbed from her eyes, hair hanging limp around her face. It was such a contrast from who she was on those long city nights, with big hair and a big voice, everyone looking at her, Kendall quiet in the shadows.
She was always softer in the afterglow, quieter, as though the whole great show had tired her out. He liked her best then, the private moments where she was less girly she-beast, more human.
“I’m going to hug you now,” he says, awkwardly maneuvering around the stick shift and looping his arms around her.
He pulls her body towards him, holds her close, and breathes.
--
Part Four