Hey, all. It's me, Poet. This is my first story so it's a little rocky, but I have had help from an amazing gal- TealMoose. Please check her out, she is amazing, seriously. If you like Kendall whumpage check out the story Romantic Heart by her, it's on my profile under "Favorite Stories." Enjoy 33

It was a bad situation. The darkness of the Los Angeles night had taken it's hold on the sky; a cool, salty breeze waltzes in from the window. Occasionally car lights filtered in, illuminating the sleeping boys. A tan Latino curled up in his bed, hands grasping his helmet like a child holding his teddy bear. Two brunettes snore softly, tangled in their respective sheets.

But the blonde sixteen year old lay awake. The moon keeping him company, but did little to ease the obvious signs of discomfort on his face. Thick eyebrows knotted together, mouth in a tight line. Night was the only time he could express the pain that bubbled from his knee. It blossomed through his joint in white, hot bursts. It kept him from his visits to slumber land which he so desperately needed. Simple tasks had become harder. Dancing brought the pain from a dull ache to sharp discomfort, it was harder to run, to swim, to do other things healthy teenage boys should be able to do. Kendall Knight was sick, he knew. But when his friends asked, he refused to believe something was seriously wrong. He would brush off his unavoidable limp as "growing pains," but when a few months drifted by, the excuse lost effect. It later become "something pulled from hockey, but nothing to worry about." But when the pain was still there, he learned to keep quite.

You see, Kendall was the leader. He was the rock. He would not alarm his friends because of his leg. To them, the pain had went a way long ago. He learned to hide his limp, to use his arms to swim, and to run off to the bathroom after dance, turn the water on, and clench his jaw tight as tears pricked his eyes. A few splashes of cold water to his clammy face, and he was golden. To everybody else, Kendall Knight was perfectly healthy. It was a bad situation, Kendall was hurting, but he couldn't tell anyone. And as he wished for the dawn to come and paint the sky, he pulled his pillow over his head and let the sleeping pills he wolfed down earlier take effect.

"Hey! Bushy Brows! Your hogging my mirror time!" James pounded on the door of the bathroom in apartment 2J, which currently occupied his…band mate? Brother? Best friend? But of course, James would never admit that. Which was he was calling out stupid nick names and masking his worry in Cuda Man hairspray. It wasn't like he didn't see. It wasn't like none of them saw. James may be ignorant, self absorbed, narcissistic, and other long words Logan called him. But he wasn't blind or uncaring. When his friend was hurting, he could feel it to.

"James, you don't need anymore hairspray. You look fine, now let's go before Gustavo…I don't know…kills us!"

"It's not me! It's Kendall!"

'Amazing,' Logan thought, 'Only seven a.m. and they're already at it…I need knew friends.' As many times as Logan said it, he never actually meant it. Especially since his doctor-senses had been tingly. Ever since he brought up the sudden limp he noticed in Kendall- faintly, of course. Kendall was good at hiding his emotions, with his dad away, it was normal for him to feel sad or worried. But age taught him how to cope, Kendall's coping means hiding his pain from everybody else. Nobody was suppose to know that Logan looked at his friend with worry when he realized his breathing wasn't deep and even, like most sleeping people's should. Kendall had insisted it was growing pains or a pulled muscle, but Logan had known Kendall since he was four. It was something more. Way more. Logan wanted to kill what ever was causing his friend's distress, but since it was Kendall's body there wasn't much he could do. And because Kendall wouldn't admit anything, he couldn't get him to see a real doctor. 'That doesn't mean he can't see me.'

"Um…Logan? You okay? You've been zoning into space."

"Yeah, Kendall, I'm fine," But your not, Logan scanned the pale skin, the thin frame, the dark under-eye circles, "Where's James? And…where's Carlos?"

"James is plastering his hair to his face with Cuda Man and Carlos…-" He couldn't finish though, as the small Latino flew through the air, landing on the couch, spraying popcorn from the bowl that was balanced on Katie's lap everywhere.

"Dude! Watch it!"

"Sorry, Katie."

A small trampoline sat in the middle of the apartment, low to the ground, dark fabric gleaming. There it was, in all it's glory. The trampoline they ordered weeks ago was now delivered.

"Kendall, Logan, James, you gotta try it!"

"I don't want to mess up my perfectly Cuda'ed hair…"

"Did he just use Cuda as an adjective?" Kendall whispered to Logan.

"I think he did…."

"Maybe another time, Carlitos. We have to get to the studio. We're already… three minutes late!"

So off the boys went, to fill their day with angry shouts, vocals, and the laughter that accompanied their unique job.

Dinner at the Knights was as follows; James and Carlos would make fights with their dinosaur nuggets, Katie would read the business and sales section of the newspaper, Logan would tell Mrs. Knight about his day, and Kendall would push food around his plate, text Jo, and joke around occasionally. Lately, though, he's been silent. He hasn't even made an attempt to make it look like he's eaten something. His mom would tell him, beg him to eat something and his friends would twiddle their thumbs awkwardly. Katie would peek out from the paper, and say, "C'mon big brother…just one bite."

Kendall would stuff something in his mouth to keep us from thinking he was anorexic or something, then would retreat back to our room, his phone buzzing with Jo's messages.

Today was different. It was just Logan and Mrs. Knight. Kendall and James were on a date, Carlos was at the park doing God-knows-what, and Katie was playing video games with Kyle. So there Logan sat, Mrs. Knight bustling around the kitchen while he surfed the web. He was looking for Kendall's symptoms. Fatigue- check. Weight loss- check, Kendall was always lean, but now he's gaunt to the point where it was not attractive. Sharp angles and prominent bones. Kendall has stopped swimming, but he would lay on the chairs in his trunks and a shirt to hide his ribs that peeked out of sallow skin. What was worst was when he would lift his hand to catch a Frisbee and Logan would check sight of his hip bones, they stuck out painfully. The worst symptom was his leg. The leg that kept him wincing, the leg that kept him awake at night. The pain that he was hiding. It was evident in his eyes, in his lips pulled into a thin line.

His fingers shook with worry as he knew the links would, inevitably, be bad. But these were worse then he could ever imagine.

'This can't be…Kendall isn't sick. He's not…he's not…' But Logan couldn't find words to say. He was wishing, really wishing that he could just believe Kendall's excused. But if he was right, Kendall was seriously, terminally ill.

"Mrs. Knight. You might, you might want to come look at this…"

And she walked over, as if she was going to look at Logan's new high score, a new found science fact, and not the devastating fate of her son. Her perfume accompanied her as she invaded the small desk. Staring her down was the MedWeb symptoms of osteosarcoma and Ewing's sarcoma under the pediatric oncology section.

"But…But that's cancer!"

As much as we so desperately wanted to believe it was not true, Mrs. Knight spoke the truth.