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“And you have NO TALENT!”
Several expressions cross his face—disbelief, hurt, resignation—before he leaves the stage. Dreams crushed.
Satisfied, Gustavo turns to Kelly, who is glaring at him.
“That was harsh.”
“He reminds me of Matthew McConnaughey,” Gustavo whines. “And he was too eager. There was no fire.”
Kelly remains unimpressed.
“So what? He was the last one. You’ve rejected everybody,” she stresses, voice stern while she rants. “Griffin did not give you a million dollars just for you to come back empty-handed, so get that boy’s contact information, and tell him you changed your mind, because he was the best one and you know it.”
Gustavo makes a face.
Kelly lifts an eyebrow.
”Fine.”
It feels like a dream when his mom actually gives her blessing and signs his contract. All throughout the drive to the airport, James is still fantasizing and unable to quite believe this is real simultaneously. Dirty snow lies like ash along the roads he grew up on, the sky is banded grey and gold. A thin patch of sunlight blazes diamond-bright.
Walking out the parked car into the smell of snow and car exhaust, he’s still thinking velvet ropes and flashing lights; endless fortune and retro glamour. A dream. His dream. When he’s gripping his suitcase in the long open area of the airport that leads to multiple airline check-ins, staring at the faces of his friends next to tv sets displaying ads, amongst passengers carting luggage—some whom throw them irritated glances for being in the way—the dreamlike quality of it all abruptly shatters.
Kendall is the first to notice, “James, what’s the matter?”
“Isn’t it obvious? He’s gonna miss us,” Carlos says as though he’s not the one crying.
Logan pipes up, “Data does show that friendships fall apart more easily when faced with distance, especially in adole—”
“Not helping!” James snaps.
The idea of them having fun without him... Playing hockey and coming up with schemes and having experiences he won’t be a part of, insides jokes he suddeny won’t be able to understand anymore. It brings a pit to his stomach. Logan’s never asked anyone out of a date by himself before and now James is not gonna be there to give him tips; Carlos will find someone else to throw crazy parties with; and Kendall...
“James.”
Kendall’s voice is calm, green eyes clear in the airport fluorescents; ears still slightly red from the cold outside. His smile is small and gentle and James feels a stab of longing even though Kendall’s still right in front of him, not states away.
“Opportunities like this only come once in a lifetime. You can’t put off your dream for us.”
“I’m not,” James says as though part of him hadn’t been considering that very idea. Then, more certainly, he adds, “I won’t,” because Kendall is right, isn’t he? James would never forgive himself if he let this opportunity go.
This is what he has wanted his entire life.
It’s just... “You don’t think that we’ll grow apart?”
“I think,” Kendall says, still smiling, beneath a board that notes flight arrivals, “that as long as you don’t want to, and we don’t want to, we’ll be fine.”
The way Kendall says it, James actually believes him; breathing in the scent of coffee, his hand and arm numb from lugging around his suitcase. Surrounded by the overwhelming white of the airport.
“Phonecalls do exist,” Logan agrees, getting out of the way of a family in a hurry.
“Yeah, you can’t get rid of us,” Carlos adds, no longer crying; he’s grinning. “We’re like fungus!”
“Not the comparison I would’ve made,” Kendall says with a shrug, before he gives James a wry smile: “But he’s right.”
“We’re more worried that you’ll meet all sorts of cool new Hollywood people and forget all about us,” Logan admits, eyes brimming with vulnerability.
The effect of James’s resulting scoff is a little ruined by the lump in his throat. “No way,” he says, smiling.
“Then we’re agreed,” Kendall says, finger resolutely in the air, before pointing at nothing in particular while he smirks at them. “We’ll stick it to data.”
Three heads swivel in unison to look at Logan, who raises his brows.
“Stick it,” Logan agrees.
”Yes.”
Cheering with his friends, James grins.
One year later, he returns home.
Triumphantly. His first album just released and now he’s on tour! He convinced Gustavo to let him do a show in his hometown—well, he tried, Gustavo said no and then Kelly whacked him over the head and said oh, let him do it, he’s worked so hard and that was that.
So now he’s not just famous, but he’s getting to catch up with his best friends in person, which means he’s pretty much on cloud nine. As good as the phonecalls were, being actually around them is more refreshing than even James himself had expected it to be. They just make him feel so much more comfortable being himself; lucky comb and bandanas and all.
No one bats an eye at any of his excentricities, and if any of them poke fun at him he knows it’s not done with malicious intent. Likewise, their own quirks are a relief to see. Crammed with his best friends in Mrs. Knight’s tiny living room, James is feeling good.
It doesn’t last.
It happens after the guys finish regaling James with the latest Jenny Tinkler Disaster and, still half-laughing, James suggests they go play some hockey. It’d be a way to blow off some steam before his big show, and more importantly, it’d be nice to play like old times while they have the chance.
What follows is an awkward, painful silence. Filled only by the stereo still blasting one of James’s own songs. The scent of freshly microwaved popcorn is heavy in the air. The curtains are the same as they used to be, the lamps, the pictures on the walls, fruit in a bowl.
Bathed in warm yellow light, Kendall’s jaw clenches briefly; he’s avoiding James’s gaze. Logan’s face has scrunched up. Carlos’s eyes are very wide.
James laughs nervously. “What, don’t tell me you guys don’t like hockey anymore.”
It’s a joke, of course, to attempt to lighten the mood from whatever this is—maybe they lost a game recently and it’s still smarting? But James receives no answer, and this is it. This is exactly what he was afraid of. He’s out of the loop and it’s showing.
“Guys, I was kidding,” James says.
“We promised Kendall that we wouldn’t tell you,” Carlos blurts, eyes widening further after the words leave his mouth.
The hurt increases. Before James can laugh it off and change the subject and ignore his clenching heart, Kendall speaks up. Still the same tangle of bracelets on his skinny wrists, still the same reassuring gaze and pale green eyes.
“Okay, look. The thing is, I got injured a while back,” Kendall says, as concilliatory as mediating a fight. “And I can’t play hockey anymore.”
James stares at him. Kendall says it all so easily, but the look in his eyes betrays him.
Kendall quickly adds, “And I didn’t tell you, because I didn’t want you to feel bad about being able to live your dream, and it’s not like you could do anything about it.”
“Oh,” James says.
Haltingly, Logan suggests, “We could watch TV instead?”
Carlos nods a little too vigorously, “Yeah, TV is fun! I love TV!”
Kendall smirks a little at their attempts to cut through the tension, even throws a look James’s way like he expects him to commisserate—catching his heart in an exhilarating, painful mix of nostalgia and regret.
James says, “TV sounds good,” and that’s what they end up doing, while James pretends that he doesn’t feel twisty inside. Because he does feel bad.
It’s just so quintessentially Kendall.
So many late night phone calls where he helped James calm down beyond state lines. When James was feeling insecure surrounded by gorgeous faces in Hollywood; when Gustavo couldn’t stand him in the beginning for some reason and it was starting to get to him; and let’s not forget the time Kendall threatened to come all the way to LA to throw snowballs at him when he had what Camille dubbed Hollywood fever. James had pointed out that it was ninety-five degrees in LA at the time, to which Kendall had darkly promised that he would find a way. James didn’t doubt it.
In fact, James had known, then, even through the heat wave, that if he let Hollywood change him—sweating through his clothes and lethargy and the azure cloudless sky—if he got caught up in it all and became truly self-centered in a way he couldn’t come back from—he would lose Kendall. Also, as much as he was tempted to let Kendall come to LA for an intervention, he knew that Kendall couldn’t exactly afford the trip.
In fact, with no hockey scholarship, college will be difficult, too. He could even end up like his mother, working minimum wage well into adulthood. And he didn’t tell James. Every time he reassured James or joked around with him or threatened to prank him until he stopped comparing himself to every other pretty face in Hollwood, Kendall mentioned nothing of his own dream being shattered.
Typical Kendall, James thinks, watching his profile in the glow of the television. Selflessness. Like the blond of his hair and the green of his eyes and the way that he—well. Something James hasn’t thought about in a long while now.
It’s not that late, but the sun is already down; a dark sky above quiet snow that shimmers in the streetlights. Flower petals growing through the cracks of conrete as well as car hoods are covered in a thin layer of ice. As James steps closer to Sherwood Market, there is a brittle crunching beneath his boots.
When the automatic doors open, bright fluorescent light spills out into the dark. Warm air hits his face. Sighing in appreciation, he makes his way inside: ready to pick up some gum. Really, it’s just an excuse to bother Kendall.
(And that’s an excuse to see Kendall, but James is not that self-aware just yet.)
Kendall’s been working closing shifts lately. He’s been more tired, too; having trouble keeping up with his homework. The ice rink feels like the only place you can still see Kendall full of energy, these days.
James walks past end displays of soup cans, chips and BBQ sauce; past sale signs and banners that say “Shop and save!”, trying to locate Kendall. He takes the last fried appetizers from a sample station while he’s at it. Background music plays on the speakers. The 90s channel, he realizes with a smirk. Kendall has complained more than once that it’s all they ever play at work, and that he thinks BoyQuake’s songs are all so cheesy, no title without the word ‘girl’ in them.
So the last thing James was expecting—after locating Kendall, restocking a shelf in an empty aisle—was for Kendall to be singing and dancing along.
The thing is, Kendall sings all the time. Non-BoyQuake songs, that is. Silly made-up songs when they’re shoveling driveways and Pussycat Dolls in the car. It’s one of those things about Kendall that have been characteristic of him for so long that James doesn’t spare it any conscious thought; it’s as obvious as the blond of his hair or the green of his eyes or the hockey metaphors in his pep talks. Kendall himself doesn’t seem to spare it any conscious thought, either.
Now, though, for the first time since the many, many years that they’ve been friends—James is stopping to stare.
Kendall has never sounded bad when singing before, exactly—not like when Carlos purposefully mangles songs to make them all wince—but it was still always a child’s voice, not yet matured. Puberty has changed things. It’s changed several, actually, one of them being the way James has started noticing his friend in a way his dad would probably disapprove of, but that’s not the relevant part right now. Kendall sounds good.
Hitting all the right notes while he spins and twists his hips to the beat, simultaneously restocking the shelves with a flourish. James is just—entranced. There’s something magnetic about the performance, as though Kendall’s on a stage instead of carrying out a thankless job in a red apron and grey beanie.
It’s like Kendall was born to do this.
The idea hurts, somewhere deep and vital; brings a strange mixture of jealousy and grief.
‘Cause you’re a girl, a girl, a girl—to my heart, heart, heart—
And then Kendall notices him, shrieks, drops a box of cereal and he’s just an overtired employee again. James’s best friend, who wouldn’t catch on to his voice being anything special if there was a literal famous producer telling it to his face.
Wide-eyed, like he just got caught with his hand in the cookie-jar, Kendall blurts, “I wasn’t singing along to BoyQuake!”
And James remembers that Kendall always complains about BoyQuake, remembers that this is something he can tease Kendall about. He doesn’t.
“Your secret is safe with me,” he promises, with a deepened voice that has the right amount of gravity for the situation. Kendall’s sheepish and relieved smile makes his heart twinge.
James tries to ignore how wrong it feels—keeping that voice a secret, keeping it all to himself. And ignoring the thought that follows—that, selfishly, he’d quite like to keep Kendall all to himself.
His friends are backstage with him: wearing passes around their neck, beaming at James for what he managed to accomplish. Amongst the concrete and dubious stains and the men rolling crates, James suddenly knows what he has to do.
The jealousy of it is gone. All there is now is a desire to make Kendall happy and keep him close, simultaneously. It’s a stroke of genius, really. If the plan works, Kendall can join him in Los Angeles. They could spend a lot more time together—share an apartment, even. The very thought feels like water in a desert. And James knows Kendall will enjoy it at least as much as he did hockey—if not more.
James knows Kendall was born to do this.
Now, here’s the thing: Kendall is the real schemer amongst them. The king of pranks and mischief incarnate. James’s plan is... not quite so intricate. What he does is simply stroll up to his goofing-off friends, and tell Kendall, “I need you to come on stage and do the opening song for me.”
He gets laughter in response; they think he’s kidding. Sweet, naive fools.
Kendall is the first to catch on: “What?!” He gesticulates with wide eyes, “Are you insane? I can’t go out there!”
James throws back his head and laughs, putting his hand on Kendall’s back and guiding him towards the stage. “Sure you can!” Abruptly stopping his laughter, “It’s easy.”
James has got it all figured out. He knows Kendall dated a girl whose mom gave guitar lessons and taught him for free. He knows Kendall has written songs of his own because Carlos and Logan complained over the phone that their attempts to sneak a peak at Kendall’s notebook was met with failure—Kendall is a slippery one. And then when James brought it up to Kendall, he had called it just a hobby, not real songs. Yeah, right.
“But I’m not a singer!”
Yeah, right.
“Yes,” James says seriously. “You are.”
“Guys! A little help!”
James doesn’t let go of Kendall as he turns to face Carlos and Logan. “Guys, I will personally introduce you to every model I know if you leave us be.”
Of course, James doesn’t actually know that many models, and the ones he does know are as unapproachable as the Jennifers, but what Carlos and Logan don’t know yet won’t hurt them...yet.
Carlos and Logan look at each other, and then at Kendall. They say in unison,
“Sorry, Kendall.”
Kendall now begins to wrestle James in earnest, trying to get away, “James, no.”
“James yes.”
Yellow jackets in his peripherals. He looks up to see the security guards approaching. Confidently, James shakes his head at them.
“Don’t worry, boys, I’ve got him right where I—” Kendall’s hand is pushing againt his face now, making his voice come out rather nasally, ”—want him.”
“Help me!” Kendall appeals to the security guards, making grabby motions towards them with his hands while James encircles his waist. The security guards look freaked out now, and start to back away. “No no no don’t go!”
“Hang in there, buddy,” Logan says, full of sympathy when the security guards have abandoned him.
“You’re doing great!” Carlos says, beaming.
“I don’t want to do this!”
“You’ll thank me for this,” James grunts, dragging Kendall backwards with him to the stage, one big tug at a time, ”One day.”
James gets Kendall on stage because he’s still the strongest of the group—the bench-press in the gym can attest to that—but Kendall still struggles against him, and he’s slippery, so James doesn’t let his guard down. It brings back memories of snow ball fights turning into good-natured roughhousing; bodies tangling together while their breaths fogged the air. Falling snowflakes melting the moment they touched exposed flesh; getting hot chocolate afterwards.
He’s trying not to think about how close they are right now, and that’s when the curtain opens.
Cheers quickly turn to confused silence. Abruptly, the fight goes out of Kendall, staring at all of those faces.
“You are so dead,” Kendall mumbles around a too-wide smile.
James throws an arm around Kendall’s extremely rigid shoulder, grinning. Half-dragging Kendall, James makes it to the microphone. “Hello, everyone! This is my best friend Kendall, and he’s gonna open for me today with a song he wrote himself.”
At James’s cheerful announcement, Kendall’s eyes widen further before they get a distinct out-for-blood glint that reminds James of the fact that Kendall has won their yearly prank wars more often than any of them.
He almost shivers, having absolute confidence that Kendall would be able to find a way to get past James’s newfound security personnel in order to implement truly horrific pranks—especially if he were to recruit Katie for help. James’s future may involve hairdye in his shampoo. Still, he’s in too deep to back out now, so:
“Let me just go get him a guitar,” James tells the crowd with a smile, before turning to the band. After the one with the guitar bewilderedly hands it over, James turns back to see that Kendall has abandoned the microphone.
James simply hands the guitar over and gives Kendall a quick back-slapping hug.
“They’ll never find your body,” Kendall hisses.
“Break a leg!” James whisper-yells, dancing out of harm’s way, in case Kendall is truly upset enough to whack him with the guitar in front of all these people.
The glare Kendall shoots him could melt ice.
“Kendall Knight everybody! Enjoy,” James quickly says into the mic before hurrying backstage. The crowd gives a hesitant applause.
“So,” Logan says, “did Kendall break your lucky comb before you left for LA or did you just feel like tormenting him?”
James frowns. “Torment him? I just did him a favor,” he insists. Kendall may not see it yet, but he will. Soon. ...Eventually.
“Dude,” says Carlos, “you know Kendall gets embarassed easy. And you just put him on the spot in front of hundreds of people—some of them he knows—to sing a song that he didn’t even want to show to us.”
”...He’ll be fine,” James says with a smile and a scrunch of his nose.
The hesitant plucking of a guitar is amplified by the speakers. James looks at Kendall. Acoustic guitar, soft music, stolen glances. Kendall tends to stand tall with easy confidence. Like no one can touch him. His current stance is... not that. But he’s still playing his music.
“See? He’s doing it. He’s doing it!”
And then Gustavo joins them, from behind his small mobile station that gets carted around by some poor sucker. Gustavo’s glare could melt ice, too.
”What kind of stunt do you think you’re pulling?” he demands.
“Trust me,” James says, smiling as though he’s not about to be the recipient of another death threat.
Gustavo opens his mouth. Clearly about to start screaming.
I can’t sleep without the lights on—it’s like I’m broken when—you’re gone—
Gustavo pauses, mouth still open. James just continues to smile at him like this is what he knew would happen all along, but frankly, he can’t believe he got this far. Gustavo closes his mouth and just sort of...looks, before he moves to the couch, sits down. Kelly hands him a cup of calming tea at one point. The crisp smell of mint fills the air, rising on ribbons of steam.
Kendall continues to sing. Tender and beautiful.
Every second here without you—feels like division of—the heart—
“Well, now we know why he didn’t want to show us,” Carlos says quietly, as though speaking any louder will break the spell of Kendall’s voice. I’ve been holding on for so long—
“What are you talking about?” James stage-whispers without taking his eyes off the actual stage. “The song is great.”
Tonight—you’re coming home, coming home, coming home to me—
Logan sounds incredulous: “You—he’s—nevermind,” he finishes, abruptly done.
James is still frowning.
“Don’t pout, James,” Carlos says. “We think Kendall is doing great, too. I’ve never heard him sing like this,” he adds, awed, and it’s true.
They’ve all heard him sing countless times but those songs were different, more boisterous. Nothing so soft and nothing so serious.
It feels like the song ends too soon, but the crowd’s positive reaction makes up for that. Kendall gets back, face red all over and avoiding James’s gaze, guitar still around his neck. One of the people working here gets the guitar and presumably makes sure it’s returned to the band.
“Okay,” Gustavo says, approaching Kendall, “I’ve decided to grant your wish and sign you on. Welcome to Rocque Records.”
Yes!
Kendall’s eyes are wide. “What?”
James warily eyes the vein on Gustavo’s forehead that looks ready to pop, as the man gestures with his now-empty teacup,
“I’m sorry, did you not brazenly invade my concert in order to convince me of your talent?”
Kendall stares at Gustavo.
”No!”
Gustavo’s teacup breaks in his hand. “I’m gonna need to take a minute,” he says. “I’m gonna need to take a minute right now.”
He turns and leaves without further comment.
Kelly’s eyes abruptly go wide, “James, what are you still doing here?! This is your concert, go!”
Oh, right, the concert.
As James jogs onto stage, he hears Kendall incredulously burst out, “What just happened?!”
And James grins at the crowd, as they cheer for him.
All the loneliness and trouble he had dealing with Hollywood don’t matter when he’s on stage. Being adored by his fans is everything he worked for, everything he dreamed of. Hand-made signs, cameras flashing, screams and shouts and cheers.
He’s sweating when he’s finishing the last notes of the song, panting as he takes in the applause.
When he returns backstage, his friends are still sitting on the couch that Gustavo vacated.
“Dude, California! The beaches, the sunny weather, the James.”
“Carlos!”
“He makes a strong case. Plus, think millions of dollars. You could take your mom and Katie with you to a nicer apartment.”
”Yeah,” Kendall says grudgingly, “that’s...true.”
Progress, James thinks as he approaches his friends. Carlos notices him first.
“James, you were awesome!” he says earnestly, like he has every moment in-between the sets.
“Yeah, that was amazing,” Logan adds.
James chuckles, “Thanks guys.” He plops down on the couch, right next to Kendall. Putting an arm around his friend, “We killed it out there, didn’t we?”
Kendall shoves James’s arm off. “I am very mad at you!”
“Oh come on,” James complains, “the crowd loved it, and I know you loved it too. Come on,” James says again, now grinning at him. “Admit it.”
“Oh, he loves something alright,” Logan mutters under his breath.
“Logan!” Kendall grits out.
“Okay, I’m back,” Gustavo says, joining them.
“Your minute lasted two hours,” Kendall says.
Gustavo’s brows rise at the audacity. “Okay, sassy. I needed some time to calm down.”
“Again,” Kendall says. “Two hours?!”
Gustavo barrels forward, “First of all, James! You don’t get to plan spontaneous opening acts without my say-so or even so much as a HEAD’S UP!”
They all wince.
“Does he always...” Logan trails off and gulps when Gustavo glares at him.
“Yes,” James answers anyway.
“And second...” Gustavo takes a deep breath, and then he’s looking at Kendall, speaking in a low voice, which is more foreboding than the yelling. ”You.”
“Kendall,” James supplies helpfully.
“Kendall, you have the fire,” Gustavo declares without missing a beat.
“What does that even mean?!”
“It means, Mr. Question Everything I Say, that I want you to join your buddy over there,” James grabs Kendall’s shoulders in excitement, “in Los Angeles.”
”...You can’t be serious,” Kendall scoffs out a laugh.
“Think it over,” Kelly hurries to say before Gustavo starts yelling. “Here’s our card. We leave tomorrow to continue James’s tour.”
Kelly and Gustavo walk away, presumably to take another ‘minute’.
They all stare at the card now in Kendall’s hands. James is nodding at it and smiling.
“This is crazy!” Kendall bursts out.
James schools his face into solemnity and takes a deep breath before he speaks.
“Kendall. Buddy. Pal. Dear friend of mine.” With each term, Kendall’s facial expression grows warier. “Opportunities like this—”
“Don’t say it,” Kendall mumbles, with a mutinous glare.
”—only come once in a lifetime!” Carlos and Logan finish the sentence with James in unison.
“I hate you all,” Kendall informs them with a smile.
“So you’re in?” James says as though he’s not worried that Kendall’s sheer stubbornness might tank the plan, after all.
“Oh yeah,” Kendall says, that down-to-earth smile contrasted by the wide eyes as he gesticulates, “sure. And while we’re at it, why don’t we invite Carlos and Logan along to come singing with us too?”
“That...” James beams at him. ”...is a great idea! We could be like a band!”
That way there’ll be no more phonecalls, they’ll all go through everything together just like before. No more life-changing events that James won’t even know about and can’t offer comfort for. No more loneliness.
They’ll have a blast—it’s an even better plan! This is why Kendall is the plan guy.
Logan startles, “Whoa, wait a second...”
“I was joking!” Kendall says, exasperated.
“This is gonna be so much fun!” James ignores their protests, too excited and hardly able to wait. “We can all be in Hollywood together!”
Carlos laughs, “I’m in!”
“Wait a second, okay,” Logan insists, “Gustavo didn’t invite us to LA, now did he? Who says he’s gonna be okay with a boy band?”
“Look at the evidence, Mr. Logic,” James says. “Gustavo loves boy bands!”
“I am not okay with this.”
Logan gives James a look.
“Listen, guys, the boy band is dead,” Gustavo continues. “The CEO of the record company has made sure to tell me this. Many, many times. And also, even if it weren’t dead, I don’t even know if these two can sing or dance!”
Logan says, “I can do a backflip?”
“Stop it,” Gustavo says.
“Okay.”
“Well,” Kendall says, and the smile he aims at Gustavo tells everyone that he is about to poke the bear, “I know that they—”
James pulls Kendall close. “Kendall, buddy,” he shakes his head with a grave expression, making abort motions with his hands.
Kendall shakes him off, continues to stare Gustavo down with that unfaltering smile, ”—that they sing better than dogs, and according to your most famous quote ever, you can turn those into popstars! So why not?”
James barely has any time to be surprised that Kendall is now advocating for them becoming a band in LA when he was so incredulous about it before—because Gustavo starts laughing.
Gustavo starts laughing in a way that does not bode well for their general safety. Or their eardrums.
“Why not? Why not, he says. He says why not.”
“Yeah, I think we all heard him,” Kelly says, grimacing.
”Why not defy Griffin and the record company and the marketing team’s insistence that I can’t produce a boy band anymore even though that’s my favorite music to produce? Why not take the dogs from Minnesota with no prior experience and present them before the already biased board? Yeah, yeah, WHY NOT!”
Kendall’s brows rise.
“So... We have a deal?”
”Yep.”
“I’m in love with this pool,” Kendall declares.
Floating in it with sunglasses on and holding a coconut with a straw, Kendall does look like he’s truly at home.
Carlos and Logan, meanwhile, are having a water fight on the other side of the pool—that Carlos started, but Logan seems very intensely focused on finishing it. Not that Carlos is going down easy. James is sitting on the side, legs dangling in the water, taking it all in. It’s funny, because he always associated his friends with shoveling snow and skating on ice, not lounging by a pool amongst palm trees, but it feels like they’ve been here for years already.
“Quite the change of heart,” James teases, keeping his voice light, but he’s serious. A stroke of genius his plan might have been, he hadn’t expected it to actually work.
But James is not surprised that it took all of them going to do this together and becoming a singing group, to get Kendall to go along with it, too.
“What can I say?” Kendall says, smirking. “You guys were right.”
“California,” James agrees, before casually listing, “Beaches, sunny weather...”
He trails off hopefully, wanting Kendall to finish the list Carlos had used. Wanting Kendall to give James any kind of sign—however platonically intended.
Kendall does not do this.
Just as James’s heart drops and he tries to think of a new subject fast, Kendall says,
“Come on. Are you really gonna make me say it after the song?”
Through his exasperation, Kendall sounds vaguely embarassed. James doesn’t understand why.
“What does the song have to do with this?”
That makes Kendall get vertical, taking his sunglasses off. Sunshine glints in his eyes as he stares James down with a searching expression, seemingly looking for something. Abruptly, Kendall raises his brows, purses his lips, and says,
“James, you pretty idiot,” before yanking him down by the tank top into the pool.
Spluttering, James gets his bearings again; and he’s about to demand what that was for when Kendall’s mouth presses against his.
Immediately, James’s eyes close, kissing Kendall back and forgetting everything else. Tasting chlorinated water and coconut milk.
“I, uh,” he says after they pull away, wet hair sticking to his neck. “Heh. Uh.”
“Wow,” and James startles at Logan’s voice, looking over to see that the water fight has been temporarily suspended in favor of gawking at their friends. “Speechless James. You should kiss him more often.”
Kendall doesn’t look at them, eyes on James as he says, “I’d be okay with that.” The words come out hesitantly, still looking at James with that searching expression, as well as an uncertain smile.
Unable to quite believe this is happening, James says, “Yeah, me too.”
And the uncertainty on Kendall’s face drains away. Seeing that makes James finally smile as well.
The moment breaks when Carlos promptly yells, “Time in!” Giving Logan a two seconds’ warning before his head is dunked under.
Kendall turns and looks at their friends, before looking back at James with a wry smile.
Shrugging, Kendall says, “Time in,” giving James two seconds to laugh before Kendall kisses him again.
James is sharing a room with Carlos now, who wakes up when he’s suddenly gasping, well past midnight, “Wait, was Kendall’s song about me?”
“Go to sleep, James.”