Disclaimer: I don't own Big Time Rush, or anything affiliated.

Author's Note: Firstly, sorry for not updating Nobody's Home in forever. I am currently working on it, and have every intention of completing it. I will update it soon. Secondly, this one-shot began as a therapeutic poem, so it's about me, but I decided to relate it to Big Time Rush, so that it could be expressed.

Kendall had been staring at the last line on his sheet of paper for the past fifteen minutes. He'd finished the task in less than ten minutes, while Logan, usually first to finish, was still writing. Kendall's immobility hadn't gone unnoticed by Logan, nothing went unnoticed by Logan. For the past couple of weeks he had noticed Kendall's lack of communication, interest and effort. Logan had put it down to stress, caused by constant exams and pressure from Gustavo. The only thing that nagged him in the back of his mind was that, even in their free time Kendall was quiet. He didn't talk as much as anymore. Actually, thinking back, Kendall didn't talk anymore.

Logan missed Kendall. He was always around, but at the same time he wasn't. He was always in his room, only ever emerging for school, rehearsals, and meals. He was never present, but he was always around. Kendall had was different, not only had his mood changed, but his appearance, and musical style too. Instead of plaid shirts, and various colours of Vans, he began wearing black tops and jackets. He even started wearing his old pair of black Converse and his black Dr. Martens. Those in the apartment would sometimes hear Kendall blasting rock and punk music from his room, instead of the usual pop and indie everyone was used to hearing.

Logan wasn't the only one who had noticed. James, Katie, Mrs. Knight and even Carlos (who usually tended to be quite oblivious), noticed that something about Kendall was different. Logan wanted to help Kendall, but didn't know how. Kendall was the one they looked to for guidance, their role-model, the unofficial leader. He was always the one to help fix any problem. He was there whenever they needed him. He always stayed strong, especially after his dad died; he was there for his mom and sister. It was almost as if he had built walls around himself, preventing letting things in, and also letting things out. After that, he took on the role of supporting others, and being there for them, which made people look up to him.

Logan didn't feel quite right with the idea of asking Kendall how he felt. He didn't even know how to approach him; he didn't know how to talk to him. What would he say? 'Hey Kendall, why don't you talk anymore?' or 'what's wrong?' he probably wouldn't even answer him.

Logan looked down at his sheet, and then back at Kendall. He nudged him slightly, "are you finished?"

"Yeah. Why?" Kendall asked his voice hoarse.

"Just wondering." Logan knew he shouldn't, as the poems or stories that were being written, were supposed to be personal, but he needed to know. He needed to know what was up with Kendall, and maybe the poem would give him his answer. He peered over his shoulder and began reading.

'He sits in his room,

Listening to Damien Rice,

He wants to be free,

But he'll have to pay the price.

You see, he's been fighting battles,

With no one by his side,

He could tell the truth,

But then they'll know he lied.

He's always there when he's needed,

He has responsibilities you see,

Almost like unwritten rules,

He plays an important role in society.

He keeps his secrets locked inside him,

But they can't stay away forever,

They're a heavy weight on his shoulders,

But sometimes lighter than a feather.

One day he'll open his heart,

He'll finally learn to love,

It'll be pure, it'll be magical,

He will be flying freely like a dove.

He'll begin to live,

Like never before,

When there's nothing left to take,

They'll still ask for more.

Slowly but surely,

His heart will begin to heal,

But then everything will break,

And so will the seal.

He's broken inside,

Why do they fill his sorrow?

They know it'll hurt,

With the words they borrow.

He'll take it with him,

Where he's all alone,

When nobody's watching,

He does it all at home.

It hurts so much,

He craves release,

And although he knows it's not quite right,

His blade will bring him peace.

He will lay the knife on his wrist,

He'll cut so deep it reaches his vein,

But he won't care,

He does it to feel alive again.

He doesn't shed tears anymore,

Now it's the red blood that cries,

He fights his battles every day,

Until the day he dies.

He knows he's got things to live for,

He has his whole life planned ahead,

But some days it's so bad,

That he wishes to be lying on his death-bed.

More than a person really should,

He wakes up each day,

And for a second everything is fine,

His problems seem so far away.

Each day brings him new pains,
And also something new,
A chance to leave his past behind,
And colour his world something other than blue.'

The last line broke Logan's heart. His best friend was broken beyond repair, and there was nothing he could do. He almost burst into tears in the middle of the English lesson. The amount of emotion that Kendall had poured into his poem overwhelmed Logan. He blinked a couple of times, took a deep breath, and repeatedly re-read the last stanza, silently praying that somehow his ritual would change the whole poem. Logan got his answer, but now he wasn't sure if he actually wanted it. He needed to do something, but what, he didn't know.

"Kendall," Logan took a deep breath, and asked softly, "are you okay?" Kendall stiffened at hearing the question. He pulled on his sleeves, and picked at the hole by the cuff. He fiddled with it until the loose thread unravelled. "Kendall, please talk to me." Kendall silently curled the thread around his finger, ignoring Logan. He softly began to hum the tune to Delicate, he closed his eyes, effectively blocking out the outside world. "Please don't ignore me. Are you okay?" Logan put his hand on his wrist, Kendall's eyes flew open, and he stopped humming. He flinched, and pulled his arm out of Logan's grasp.

"Yes Logan, I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm okay, I promise."

These are the lies I tell until I can get home and pick up the blade and see the beads of blood… and then, then I'm okay.

WonderstruckEnchanted