Hi everybody. :) So, this is my first foray into slash. Not really, but at least Big Time Rush slash. This story is based off of Automatic Loveletter's "Day That Saved Us." However, when I first heard the song, I heard, "Day They Saved Us" so it had a whole different meaning for me. Thus, this story was born. I really hope you guys like it! And it's Kendall Knight and Logan Mitchell, not Schmidt and Henderson.
Disclaimer: These boys aren't mine, Big Time Rush is not mine, the song is not mine... yeah. Only the plot is mine, and not even really that. Sexual situations ensue; don't like, don't read. That being said, enjoy.
This whole town is different now, I thought to myself as I walked down the streets of the town we used to call home. So familiar, yet so foreign. The feelings of nostalgia were prominent as I took in the sights around me, but at the same time, pain was creeping up through my blood, making it rush faster through my body with every step towards my subconscious destination. I wasn't even sure what brought me here, away from the bright lights and loud noises of California and back to Minnesota, in the first place. That's a lie. You know why you're here.
I followed the path I knew so well as a child without a second thought, my feet propelling me while my mind continued to wander to the reason I was here in the first place. It wasn't because I needed a break from Los Angeles; it wasn't because I had some time off from the Sharks; it wasn't even because I missed this town enough to come and visit for a while. No, there was only one reason I was back – you.
Finally, I stopped, looking at the old two-story house in front of me. Memories immediately came flooding back; every night the four of us spent hiding under blanket forts and watching movies on the living room couch and every day we spent in the front yard staining our clothes green in the summer and having snowball fights in the winter hit me like a ton of bricks. I lean on the mailbox, Knight having peeled off long ago due to weather and lack of care. This house, the place I grew up, every square inch of space inside and out holding a memory from my childhood, and it's falling apart at the seams – just like I am, because every single one of those memories involves you.
I sighed, your face once again flashing through my mind for what seemed like the thousandth time in the past ten minutes. You as a four-year-old, shyly reading your book in the corner of the room at playtime on the first day of pre-K; you on our first day of third grade, grabbing my hand tightly because you were too scared to walk into class alone; you the very first time you told me you loved me, standing in front of me nervous and scared as you bared your soul to me; and finally, you, on that day, the day they supposedly saved us.
I didn't even realize I'd been walking until I look up and I'm no longer at my old house, but yours. I looked up, seeing the Mitchell still etched into the doorknocker, the porch where we sat on your swing for hours on end, the window that I threw rocks at countless times. Suddenly, it was too much for me to take. I collapsed onto the sidewalk, sitting on the curb and burying my face in my hands as I succumbed to the memory.
"What do you think they want to see us about, Kenny?" you asked me nervously, your hand gripping onto mine so tightly I thought I was going to lose circulation.
I kissed your temple softly, letting you know there was nothing to worry about. "Hey. It's okay, Logie. Probably just the normal Gustavo/Griffin talk about record sales and concerts and stuff. We'll be in and out in no time, and then we can have our day at the beach, okay? Nothing to worry about."
You squeezed my hand once, then let go, and the two of us walked into Gustavo's office, the sight of our producer, Griffin, and Kelly behind his desk there to greet us. None of them looked happy. "Boys. Sit," Gustavo said, his voice low.
Immediately, I knew something was wrong, but I kept my cool; no matter what happened, I had to stay strong, not for myself, but for you. "I'm not going to beat around the bush here, guys." Kelly held up a picture, and both of us gasped simultaneously – it was the two of us kissing in Palmwoods Park.
"Shit," I whispered, running a hand through my hair, and I heard you whimper from beside me.
"This was taken sometime in the last couple of days. Care to explain yourselves?"
"Gustavo, I… we…" I knew exactly when that had been taken, and there was nobody around; at least that's what I had thought. We weren't supposed to come out to the world this way. Hell, we weren't even supposed to come out to Gustavo this way. A resigned sigh escaped my lips, knowing there was no way to explain this away. "We've been dating for six months."
The three of them nodded, almost as if they'd known all along, even though I knew they hadn't. "We weren't even close to prepared for this, boys," Kelly said softly, setting the picture down onto the desk. "We've dealt with a lot from the four of you, but this was honestly something we never thought we'd have to handle."
I looked over to you again, and your face was buried in your hands. To be honest, that's how I felt too, but I couldn't show it. Instead, I asked, "Okay, well, as awful a situation as this is, what… what does this mean?"
"Well, thankfully, there was only one photographer that saw you two," Gustavo continued, his voice surprisingly calm. "He sent us the photo, and Griffin managed to buy it off of him. It cost quite a bit to keep him quiet, but thanks to whatever sources Griffin has, we're sure every copy of the picture is gone."
"Oh," I breathed, relieved. Your head lifted from its place on your knees, some of the tension gone from your face. "So… we're okay, then?"
"No, you're not okay," Griffin said in that tone of his that immediately had me worrying again. "I can't have this in my band. It's bad for your image, which is bad for publicity, which is bad for my money."
"Okay, so we'll keep it a secret just like we have been," I said with a shrug, trying to play it off like it was no big deal. "It's not like anyone knew before anyway."
"We can't have another slip up like this one, boys. We just can't. It was lucky we were able to save you guys from being put in tomorrow's Enquirer. Next time we might not be so fortunate," Gustavo said, obviously torn about something – what, I wasn't sure.
"So, we come out. What's the worst that could happen?" I said in frustration. That was honestly the last thing I wanted to do; I could deal with the hate, but you… I knew you would take it harder than any of us.
"What part of bad for publicity didn't you understand, Eyebrows?" Griffin said, throwing his hands up. "Bad publicity equals no money. No money equals no Big Time Rush."
"So what the hell do you suggest we do?" I asked, completely fed up with this whole situation. Nothing I was saying suited anyone, and I couldn't think of any other options.
Gustavo started to speak again, his tone eerily calm. "Griffin and I have talked it over, and," he paused, taking a breath, and I immediately knew the worst was coming, "one of you has to leave."
"What?" the two of us cried simultaneously. I jumped out of my chair, furious. "Gustavo, you can't do this to us!"
"But I can," Griffin said. "And I am. I'm not risking this band and all this money on your relationship."
"But Griffin, the money's…" I started, ready to scream at him for being so closed minded, but Kelly cut me off.
"Kendall, just don't," she said sadly, and I could see this was killing her just as much as it was killing me. "It's not worth a fight that will just get all of you sent back to Minnesota. We're not trying to hurt you. We're trying to save you from all the backlash that will inevitably come from this."
"But can't we just…" My voice cracked mid-sentence, and Gustavo raised his hand to stop me.
"It's decided, Kendall." Regret was written all over his face, but he had to do what Griffin said, or his job would be ripped from him too, just like one of ours was being ripped away from us. The only difference was that Gustavo wasn't being taken away from the one he loved. "One of you is leaving Los Angeles and going home."
"Tomorrow," Griffin added, holding out a plane ticket in that way of his that both infuriated and frightened me.
"Tomorrow?" I cried in disbelief. "But… that… that's not…"
"Who's it gonna be?" he said, waving the piece of paper between the two of us, and I reached to snatch the paper from his hand without a second thought.
"No." You'd been silent the entire time, so to hear your tiny voice protesting me taking the ticket was a shock to me. That one, simple word was so heartbreaking that I almost started to cry right there. You continued, your voice breaking a couple of times throughout the sentence. "I'll go. This… this was never my dream anyway."
"It wasn't mine, either, Logan, but…" I said softly, turning to face you.
Tears were filling your eyes, threatening to fall at any second, but you kept on despite them. "Kendall. You're better at this than I am. This is where you belong. Remember, they were going to replace me with Wayne-Wayne anyway." A small smile made its way onto your face at the memory, and even though it was absolutely killing me to hear you say those words, I couldn't help but crack a grin myself as I remembered that day. "I'll go, Kendall. You stay. I wanted to be a doctor, not a singer, and maybe this is a sign that that's what I should be doing anyway." You reached over and took the plane ticket from Griffin's hand, and my heart shattered. After all we'd done to keep it a secret, all the work we'd put in to become famous, all the fans we'd made, it was over, for you and me both, because of one stupid mistake.
I opened my eyes and looked up, suddenly hoping to see you standing in front of me. But you weren't there, just like I knew you wouldn't be. I sat there for a while longer, wondering if you'd somehow just show up like you knew I was here at your old house waiting for you, but you still didn't come. I wandered around town for a while, thinking maybe, just maybe, you'd moved somewhere else and that I'd see you walking down the street somewhere. Still nothing. I hadn't really hoped to see you. Honestly, what were the odds of meeting you today of all days anyway?
I left that night. You were the only reason I'd come, and without you, there was no reason to be here anymore. Landing didn't make me feel like I was coming home, because you weren't there to make it my home. This wasn't our California anymore, the one that we loved and wouldn't trade for the world; now it was just the place where I rested my head at night.
Big Time Rush had broken up less than a year after you left – I was honestly surprised we made it that long. I'd tried my hardest to stay with it, not for myself, but for James. But without you, I didn't have any reason to want to sing anymore. You were the driving force for my voice, for the simple harmonies and the belted-out love songs, for the heartfelt lyrics and the beautiful melodies; you were my passion, and when you left, so did any desire for this lifestyle.
The three of us had stayed in California. James had enough notoriety to start his solo career, and he took off as an artist. Carlos became his publicist – there was no way the two of them were going to be split apart like we had been. As for me, the San Jose Sharks had seen videos of me playing hockey somehow; maybe sent to them by my old coach, maybe by Kelly because she felt bad for me, maybe by a fan, I'm still not sure. Either way, they hired me as soon as they found out I was available.
I still kept in touch with the other guys every now and then. Sometimes they'd call to see how I was holding up, and sometimes I'd call to see where in the world James was that day. But none of us knew about you. Your parents had taken the liberty of changing your phone number when you got home; they didn't want me to distract you from getting into college, since all the work you'd done while you were here had put you ahead in terms of credits. For a while, anytime you could sneak to the computer we'd talk via Skype or email. But those talks got shorter and shorter and eventually stopped. I guess you got busy when fall semester rolled around, and I wasn't going to keep you from that, not even for my own selfish need to see you. I missed you more and more every day, yet I resigned myself to the fact that you were never coming back to me.
Somehow, I found myself at the beach. Not just any beach – our beach, the one we'd found on our own and the one where we spent our last night together. It'd been three years since I'd been here, since the last night I spoke to you, almost four since the last time I saw you face to face; it felt like an eternity had passed. Once again, I collapsed to the ground and buried my face in my hands, tumbling head over heels into the memory of our last night as a couple.
The waves crashed against our feet, almost making it up to the blanket we were lying on, but not quite. Amazingly, after everything that had just happened, you still wanted to spend the day at the beach. You curled up into my side and snuggled into my chest, making it hard to believe this endless summer was actually coming to a close.
"I love you, Logan," I whispered into your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo and the lingering smell of James's Cuda man spray he'd accidentally sprayed you with that morning.
"I love you too, Kendall," you said softly, your voice breaking on the last syllable. I could tell you were trying your hardest not to cry; I was doing the same. No other words were needed as we lay there on the sand, warm water splashing against our toes and up onto our ankles, and watched the sun set together for the last time. Dark settled over the now empty beach slowly, although the twinkling lights of the boardwalk nearby kept it from being pitch black.
"I love you," you repeated, your voice muffled by the way your face was still buried in my side.
"I love you too," I said again, kissing the top of your head gently. "So much."
You looked up at me, eyes shining with unshed tears, and breathed, "Make love to me."
I blinked, not even close to expecting those words. "What? Here? On the beach? But Logan…"
"Please," you said pitifully, sniffling once. The look you gave me with those big brown doe eyes made me want to do anything you asked of me, as if I wouldn't anyway.
Instead of a response, I kissed you again, pouring all the love I felt for you into the simple gesture. I don't think I'd ever felt such a rush of emotions as you kissed me back, your lips moving against mine as you tried to reciprocate your feelings through the touch. My heart swelled with love for you at the same time it started to break, knowing this would be one of the last times for a while that I'd be able to kiss you like this, and I knew that you knew it too without having to ask.
You bunched your fists in my shirt, pulling me on top of you, and I settled between your legs. Our tongues moved in an intricate dance that we both knew so well, exploring the other's mouth, memorizing the taste and feel even though it was already ingrained in our minds forever. You kept a death-grip on my shirt, needing me to stay as close to you as I possibly could.
My hands ran up your shirt, making you shudder underneath my fingertips. God, I'd never be able to get enough of that. The black material found its way to the sand next to us, and mine followed suit, our lips only breaking contact to rip the fabric from over our heads. The muscles of your chest and abs rippled under my touch, making me lick my lips in anticipation of what was to come.
My lips followed the path of my fingers, needing to taste every inch of skin that I could see. I moved down your jaw, to your neck to leave marks that claimed you as mine for the rest of forever, to the pale skin of your chest, to the waistband of your pants. Those quickly joined your shirt, the denim fabric bunching up in a pile in the dark sand next to the blanket.
My mouth started to water as I saw the now prominent bulge in your boxer briefs. "Kendall… please, I can't…" you whimpered, your voice breathy and high-pitched. I loved it when you were like this, desperate and needy enough to throw away your last shred of dignity.
"Shh, patience, honey, I've got you," I said, my voice husky. The dark fabric peeled off your hips easily, leaving you open and vulnerable for me. "God, Logan…" I groaned, taking in the sight of you. You were by far the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. Your fingers tangled in my hair, urging me forward to the place you wanted me the most, and I chuckled softly, gladly following your unspoken orders.
My mouth wrapped around your tip, the salty taste of your skin bursting onto my tastebuds. I took you in just a little at a time, teasing you to the point of insanity, until I was down almost all the way to the base and you were practically screaming my name in desperation. Thankfully, no one was around this late to hear you begging for more of me, more of my tongue swirling around you, more of my hands squeezing your balls, more of my finger probing your entrance. Your moans were throaty and deep, your fingers tangling in my hair so hard they almost hurt.
I could feel your legs start to tense, and I knew you were getting close. I pulled off, earning a frustrated whimper from you; I didn't want you to come that way, not without me – it was the one selfish thing I did all night. Suddenly I paused, just inches from your lips, as I realized. "Logan, we don't have any…"
"Shorts pocket," you gasped, leaning up to catch my lips in a brief kiss like you needed me touching you to keep breathing.
I reached over to the crumpled denim beside me, sure to keep a hand on your face, and fumbled around in your shorts pockets for a second. Your tongue darted out to lap at my fingertips, sucking gently at my index finger, and for a second my head started to spin, distracting me from my task. I looked over at you, my eyes hooded in lust, and your sly grin told me you knew exactly what you were doing. "Logan…" I groaned.
"Sorry," you said mischievously. "Couldn't help myself."
I finally found what you had told me to look for – a small bottle of lube. "Did you plan this?" I asked in disbelief.
"If by this, you mean having sex on the beach tonight, then yes," you said, smiling at me, and I could see the twinkle of amusement through the lust and sadness in your eyes. "Now, are you gonna do it or what?" You bucked your hips forward in earnest, and I grinned.
"Of course I am," I said, motioning to the tight jeans that were constricting my erection almost painfully; I'd forgotten about them in my haste to taste you. "You wanna help me out with these?"
"Of course I do," you said, mocking my words. You unbuttoned my pants painfully slowly, sliding them down my legs at a snail's pace. Your fingers hooked into the top of my briefs, your fingertips running along my hips under the elastic, and I shuddered, shooting you an evil glare. You laughed, pushing the fabric down my legs, and I kicked them to the side to join the rest of our clothes, leaving me as naked as you were.
I popped the cap of the small bottle and slicked up my fingers, wasting no time in pressing one inside you. You whimpered softly, fidgeting against the intrusion for a second, but you motioned for me to keep going. A second one slipped into you easily, and I scissored the digits back and forth, up and down, stroking your inner walls and making you tip your head back in pleasure. Soon enough, a third one was inserted, and you started rocking back against my hand, moaning, "Kendall, please, I'm ready, please."
I kissed you as I coated my cock in lube, moaning softly at the relief of some of the pressure that had been building up. Then I positioned myself at your entrance, waiting for the okay. "Dear God, Kendall, no more waiting, please, I need you," came the groaned out reply, and I inched into you, taking it as slow as I could possibly stand to.
Finally, finally, after what seemed like hours, I was fully sheathed in your heat, your walls clenching around me tightly. I looked into your eyes, and time seemed to stop. It was just you and me, in that moment, forever, and I knew I would never forget the look you were giving me as long as I lived. It was a mixture of lust, heartbreak, desire, but the most prominent emotion was love, deep, true love that would stand the test of time no matter how far apart we would be. A tear fell from your eye, and I knew what you were thinking: that this would be the last time we would be together this way. "Logan…" I choked out, trying to hold back the tears that were inevitable.
"Move, Kendall," you cried, and I did. I thrust into you again and again, your back scratching against the sand and your hands gripping my hips as tightly as you could manage. They quickly moved to my hair as I kissed you, open-mouthed and panting. Our lips were barely even touching; we were just breathing against each other's mouths, trying to keep as much contact as we could. The air around us was hot, humid, muggy, even though the night was cool, and the warm water kept splashing against our legs, not ever quite making it to the place where we were joined together as one.
Your legs wrapped around my hips, urging me deeper, making me hit that sweet spot inside you that had you screaming my name into the night sky like it was the only thing you'd ever need to know how to say. I thrust against it over and over, making sure your pleasure came before mine. I held back my impending orgasm, wanting this moment to last forever, and I knew you were doing the same.
Unfortunately for the both of us, it had to come to an end. Your hips stuttered against mine, bucking upwards repeatedly, and it only took one stroke of my hand on you to make you come, your back arching and your face contorted in the most intense kind of ecstasy. I'd never experienced a feeling like the one washing over me when I followed you to that point of bliss. It felt like my heart was being ripped out of my chest as I came, spilling myself inside you with a cry of your name.
Your eyes locked on mine again after we had come down, tears flowing freely down your cheeks now, and I finally let go, allowing mine to fall from my face onto your chest. "L-Logan… you can't leave…" I sobbed, pulling out of you and collapsing onto my forearms.
"It's for… for the best, Kenny," you whimpered, opting for silent tears. "Th-they're saving us, remember?"
"How can they be saving me when they're taking away the one thing I need to live, the one person that keeps me breathing? I can't live without you, Logan," I cried, and your arms wrapped around me in an attempt at comfort. This wasn't right; I should be comforting you, not the other way around. I leaned up and kissed you, a sweet kiss filled with love and hope and promise and goodbye.
"We're always going to have each other, Kendall. I won't ever leave you. I won't. This isn't goodbye," you swore over and over again, whispering sweet nothings into my ear until the both of us fell asleep from exhaustion, right there on the beach, not caring who saw. It wasn't like it mattered anymore anyway.
The next morning was the hardest of my life. Waking up on the beach with you at three a.m. and watching you sleep for a moment only made me realize how hard it was going to be without you. Driving back home and watching you pack almost killed me, each article of clothing that went into your suitcase taking a piece of my soul with it. Kissing you goodbye in the living room – since we couldn't say goodbye in public – was the worst thing I've ever had to experience, your lips moving against mine for the last time and the salty taste of our tears mingling on our tongues. The last, "I love you," and your wave goodbye to all of us shattered my heart. And when you walked out the door, so did my reason for being.
The waves crashed against my feet and the tears fell down my face, much like they'd done that day four years ago. I didn't even know why I'd come here; the pain was just as fresh today as it had been then. I wondered if you remembered this as vividly as I had, if you remembered me, if you missed me the way I missed you, or if you'd forgotten me completely. I let your name slip past my lips, just once, barely a whisper, "Logan."
"Kendall," came the choked out reply, and I sat up immediately, looking back to see the face I hadn't seen in much too long.
"Logan?" I repeated, not sure if I had fallen asleep and this was just a dream; it'd be the cruelest form of torture to have to wake up from something this real. "Is… is that really you?"
"It's really me," you said softly, tears filling your eyes like they had the last time we'd been here; only this time, they were tears of joy. "Is it really you?"
"It's really me," I echoed your words, standing up and walking to you hesitantly, like you were going to disappear if I approached too quickly. Suddenly, you were flinging yourself into my arms and crushing your lips to mine, and it was like we'd never left, like four years hadn't gone by.
My arms never left your waist as we pulled apart for air, looking into the other's eyes in disbelief and happiness. "I love you," I whispered without a second thought, and with those words, it felt like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders that I hadn't realized I'd been carrying.
"I love you too," you said happily, pressing your lips to mine yet again, trying to make up for lost time.
I pressed my forehead against yours, my hands coming up to cup your cheeks and wiping away a stray tear. "I thought I'd never see you again."
"I didn't either, Kendall, but I'm so happy you're here… I thought… I hoped you might be here," you admitted sheepishly. "I don't know why, but something told me you would be, and here you are, and I'm so sorry. I didn't forget about you Kendall, I spent every day wishing I could come back home again but…"
I cut you off with a kiss, relishing in the feel of your lips against mine, the slight scruff rubbing against my skin, and the taste of you that was exactly the same as I remembered. "Forget it. Forget everything, Logan. We can talk about it later, just… I just wanna hold you, okay?"
"Okay," you sighed, leaning your head into my chest. And right then, everything was how it should be. The last four years didn't matter, the years to come didn't matter, none of it. None of the nights I spent missing you, none of the days I spent staring at the phone hoping you'd call, not making us work again despite our respective career choices, not figuring out how we were going to repair a relationship damaged by countless days apart… Not a thing mattered now that I had you in my arms again.