Separated

Logan had started getting suspicious. That was the only word that could describe his predicament. Though he was always pessimistic, it just was a perk. However, it was put into overdrive for the past two weeks.

It had began when Carlos had entered 2J like any other day. He had a hop in his step as he walked toward the couch and flopped onto it while he grabbed the remote and turned on the TV. The future doctor, who had been studying in his room, walked out when the teen entered. He smiled and joined the teen, smacking the black hockey helmet on his friend's head.

"Hey, 'Los," he had greeted. The Latino immediately shushed him as he kept his eyes glued on the TV screen. Logan peered at it and saw that it was playing one of his friend's favorite shows- Coco.0.

"The newest episode just came out today so shush!" Carlos had told him. He remembers rolling his eyes but decided to watch it as well. As Logan had predicted, the same plot continued like every other episode. First Dara, or the girl playing the robot, finds herself in an unrealistic problem that she has to try and solve with her spunky best friend before anyone discovers she's a robot. Logan had no idea why his friend could find such a show so entertaining but, after knowing the boy for so long, decided not to convince him otherwise. It was a losing battle and he knew it.

Suddenly, during the middle of the episode, Carlos' phone rang. He looked at it with a mix between a curious and irritated look, though it only lasted for a split second before he read the caller ID.

"I have to take this," he had said before getting up and heading to the bathroom. Logan shrugged and continued to watch the show since he had nothing else to look at. Ten minutes later, the bathroom door opened. Logan had looked over and watched the teen walk out. He immediately noticed a few things odd about the Latino. First, he was looking down. Second, his phone was firmly clenched in his hand. Finally, he seemed angry about something. Logan had a feeling it had something to do with that phone call.

"Is everything okay, Carlos?" He had asked. The Latino put on a smile (his eyes were slightly red, he had noticed at the time) and nodded.

"Yeah, everything's good," he responded with forced happiness. "You know what? I'm going to head out for a bit."

"What about your show? You've been wanting to watch it all week," he raised an eyebrow. Carlos seemed to hesitate before reassuring the teen that he'll have to watch the rerun some other time. With no more left to say, Carlos left the apartment.

Since then, the Latino had been acting very strangely. Well, stranger than he usually was. The teen had been acting negatively toward everyone if he even spoke to them at all. He always kept to himself as well. The most drastic change so far was his behavior toward his helmet.

Everyone knew he had a special connection with the plastic object but it had seemed to worsen since the phone call. If anyone but him touched his beloved item, he would glare at them with the darkest eyes and threaten them afterward. Even Mrs. Knight, which surprised (and angered) everyone. Especially Kendall.

Carlos hasn't changed the past two weeks and was not only avoiding everyone but was also being avoided. The people of the Palm Woods grew scared as the empty shell of their friend lurked through the building. The person Logan grew to care about was no longer in that other person.

Logan, currently in the lobby, sat at one of the couches and played on his phone. Everyone inside the lobby then started whispering like crazy before they disappeared out of the room. Logan knew what that meant. As expected, Carlos was walking out of the elevators. He cringed watching his friend. Carlos sure had physically changed. The teen's shoulder was slumped, his jaw always clenched, large bags were under his red glaring eyes, and that stupid helmet sat on his head.

Having enough, Logan sighed and stood up to cut off his walking friend, who lightly glared. "Carlos, you have to tell me what's wrong," he had asked for the hundredth time.

"Nothing is," Carlos answered, his happy tone gone.

"It started since you got that phone call a few weeks ago and you haven't been the same since," Logan told him, getting annoyed. He wasn't mad at his friend, well maybe, but rather the inability to help. "And why don't you want people to touch your helmet?"

Carlos stayed silent, though his glare hardened by the mention of his helmet. He pushed past the teen, who sighed.

"Did we do something wrong? Did Gustavo say something to you? Is it your family?"

Carlos froze, one foot in mid-air and his eyes widened.

'Bingo' Logan thought. He looked at his friend's figure, how it became rigid and stiff. "Carlos," he spoke quietly. "Please, let me help you. What happened?"

Carlos slowly turned around and looked at the genius with the most confused and hurt eyes he had ever seen. "There is nothing you could do to help," he quietly said, almost hauntingly. Carlos looked back ahead and walked out to who knows where.

Logan sighed in stress but was satisfied with his findings.

He now learned that it has something to do with Carlos' family. But one question still bugged him; why was he protective of the helmet?

The next few days were hectic for Logan. He had been trying to decipher Carlos' attitude and behavior through snooping in his room while the boy was out and about. Unfortunately, nothing helped him piece things together.

Except, when he was about to call quits and think of something else, something caught his eye. Right under Carlos' pillow was a photo. It had a picture of a woman and a small grinning boy. By the looks of it, based on how the two were dressed, they seemed to have been at an event. Logan had inspected it and seemed to instantly figure out who was in the photo.

It was Carlos and his mom, Sylvia. They, based on the background, seemed to be at the child's elementary school graduation. He smiled at the memory. He remembers Carlos being so sad when his father couldn't have made it to the event but his mom pushed past her work schedule to be there for her son. It lifted his spirits right up.

Logan then frowned when he remembers asking Carlos if there was something wrong with his family and, with the lack of response, proved his theory. The photo just contributed to it.

"What are you doing here?" Logan jumped at the sudden voice. He whirled around and looked at Carlos with wide eyes but his scared ones didn't compete with the furious ones.

"Carlos!" He exclaimed in surprise. "I-I, um, it, uh-"

"I asked you a question," Carlos pursued, his head tilting a bit as he slowly stalked forward. Logan inched his way back. Before he could respond, the Latino's eyes landed on the photo Logan was still holding.

You remember how Logan had described the look Carlos gave people when they touched his helmet? The daggers the teen was throwing at him was ten times worse. A fire burned in his brown eyes and not the type he has seen before. That fire roared with rage.

"Why do you have that?" Carlos snarled, bringing Logan back from his thoughts. He gulped and straightened himself.

"It's your mom, isn't it?" He guessed, making Carlos clench his fists. "There is a problem with your family and it has something to do with your mom. Is she sick? Hurt? Maybe-"

Before Logan had reacted, Carlos had suddenly grabbed him and slammed him into the wall, making him grunt, then threw him to the side. Logan looked up with shocked eyes to his friend. He watched the other slowly pick up the dropped photo and stare at it.

"Get out," he quietly requested. Logan didn't need to be told twice before he rushed out and slammed the door with him. However, if he stayed, he would have seen Carlos look back to the shutting door with guilty eyes.

"I'm sorry."

That night Logan woke up to silent singing. They all had a shared bedroom so he craned his neck from the top bunk and looked at the others.

Carlos' was empty.

As quietly as he could, Logan climbed down and stood right next to the slightly ajar door. He widened his eyes when he proved his earlier assumption to the singing.

It was a song he never heard of before but he could tell that it meant a lot to the Latino as he started sniffling. When he heard soft footsteps coming his way, Logan quickly rushed back to his bunk and closed his eyes. He heard the door open then close. The figure stopped his walking. Logan could feel his friend's eyes on him.

Carlos sighed then climbed into his bed. Logan stayed awake, thinking of an idea that may or may not work. He just needs a good time to do it. Sleep taking over him, he falls into an unrestful dreamless land.

Carlos felt more at peace when the four of them stood in front of their producer the next day. Although he knows for sure that it wouldn't last any longer. He knows the reason why he won't tell anyone his secret but he prefers not sharing it. In truth, his mother was dying. She was shot a few weeks ago from a robbery gone wrong and was clinging to life.

He felt so terrible but he had to hide it from his friends. He could cope on his own, without anyone's help. He did appreciate his friends, he really did, but this meant a lot to him. A similar occurrence happened when he was younger but he was with his mom when it happened. During the situation, one of the criminals tried to grab a hold of Carlos by his overly large helmet but his mother protected him and took the shot.

Carlos was devasted when it happened and grew worried. When his mother was all better, he became protective of the helmet. Therapists pushed it off as a normal thing for trauma and so did his parents but Carlos is the only person that knows the reason why. A stolen helmet equals a hurt mother, he had put together himself. So, as a way to avoid his mother ever hurting again, he protected the hockey helmet from everyone, even his best friends.

That explains his behavior.

"DOGS!" Gustavo's voice boomed as they all stood in studio A. "Kelly and I were talking. As we were looking through the pictures from the photoshoot we had a week ago, we noticed something… CARLOS!"

Everyone looked at him. He dropped his glare and raised an eyebrow. What did he do wrong? Gustavo then pulled out a large poster of the four boys of BTR. Or, at least, three normal guys and one helmet-wearing idiot, as the producer sees it. Carlos reverted to his cold hard glare.

Kelly widened her eyes by the action but Gustavo continued his rant. Logan, thinking that it was necessary, pulled out his phone and exited, making a quiet phone call.

"Either you take off your stupid helmet or I take it off of you and destroy it with everything imaginable!" The producer warned.

"No," Carlos snarled. There was a beat of silence as Gustavo registered the response while the other three started backing up.

"Um, 'no'?" Gustavo repeated. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean that I won't take off my helmet," Carlos gritted out through clenched teeth. Gustavo, turning red from the anger, suddenly stomped up to the teen and ripped the plastic headwear from the teen's head. Carlos widened his eyes before they settled with a fiery rage. He backed up and charged at the producer, knocking him down as he snatched his helmet back.

The furious producer wasn't finished. He quickly got back up and grabbed onto the helmet. The two people pulled on the object, trying to pry it out of each other's hands. That was before the hockey helmet was somehow released from their hands and slammed into the wall. It knocked down the stacks of speakers on top of it as a result.

They both widened their eyes. Carlos quickly rushed to the mountain and started digging while the rest watched with shock. His digging slowly came to a halt when he found what he was looking for. With shaky hands, the teen slowly grabbed the two pieces of the now split helmet. Tears weld in his eyes as he tried to magically mend it back together but it was no use.

"Carlos," Kendall spoke up, bringing the teen out of his misery. Carlos suddenly slammed his broken helmet to the ground and stood up. To the corner of his eye, he saw a broken mic stand exposing a sharp tip. Walking over to it, he picked it up and examined the sharp point. It made them all grow worried and nervous.

"Carlos, what are you going to do with that?" James slowly questioned. The asked teen slowly turned around and exposed the rage written all over the teen's face and his eyes shone with revenge. However, the Latino was looking at one person in particular.

"You broke my helmet," Carlos growled in a low tone as he gripped the stand harder. Gustavo gulped. "You broke my gift…"

Carlos suddenly knocked the producer on the floor and aimed the sharp end to his neck. "You killed my Mami."

They were all confused by that last part but were still pretty afraid. Kendall and James wanted to intervene but they knew that if they were to cross his path, they would not live either. It was the eighth grade all over again.

Right as Carlos raised his mic stand, about to strike, a familiar soft voice reached his ears.

"Oh little one,

Can't you hear?

As we shall stay,

And meet you here.

There is no need to cry,

As long as you remember me by,

The one who cared for you and by your side." The rest turned to Logan, who was holding a phone on speaker, while Carlos' breathing became unsteady.

"Oh little one,

Can't you see?

All the stars that are over the sea.

They hold the stories,

Of those who were,

Apart from our life and the time before.

Oh little one,

Can't you feel?

The love and care from everyone here.

Open your eyes

And face the truth,

As memories come, and lives will go.

Oh little one,

Stay strong with me.

Don't be scared, as you have your family.

Oh little one,

Stay free,

And don't forget to remember me," the singing ended. Carlos, tears streaming down his eyes, looked at the phone with hesitant eyes.

"Mami?" He called with the most childlike voice they heard.

"Si, mijo," Sylvia's weak voice spoke up. "I'm here… What are you doing, mijo? Aren't you going to say goodbye?"

"I-I don't want to say goodbye to you," he squeaked. His lip trembled. "Why did you have to go?"

"It is my time, Carlos," she answered lightly. "Carlos?"

"Si, Mami?"

"Portate bein," she tells him in spanish. "Y recurdame. Canta ese cancion cuando tu te scientas solito… Ya es mi tiempo, Carlos… Adios.."

"Mami?" Carlos called once again when she paused, then a long disturbing beep went off on the other line before the call ended. The Latino blinked and looked down at the man he was hovering, who was looking at him with hesitant eyes. The brown eyes then shifted to the sharp stick he was holding, making his hands shake and toss it to the side.

He whimpered as he backed up and ran out of the room. Kelly helped the producer up while the three teens continued to stare at the exit.

"... His mom was shot during a robbery," Logan filled them in quietly. "That's why he was upset for the past weeks. The hospital was keeping her alive but she needed to be taken off life support, by her request."

"But why did he freak out about his helmet?" Kelly questioned. "I never knew he was that attached to it."

James walked over and picked up the pieces. "We don't know. He just got protective of it out of the blue so we just let him be. We always thought that it might have been his love for hockey… but we didn't know it had a deeper meaning to it."

"Our best friend is hurting right now," Kendall spoke up, determination firing in his eyes. "Let's go. And I think I have an idea to fix Carlos' helmet."

The other two nodded and followed the teen out the door, leaving the two bewildered adults behind.

Carlos was found on his bed, facing the wall as he clutched the photo of him and his mom.

His face was blank but his eyes could have been read differently.

"Carlos?" Kendall lightly called to him but the boy didn't acknowledge them.

"We're sorry to hear what happened about your mom," James spoke up. The saddened boy flinched a bit.

"But we are here to listen if you want to talk," Logan followed, the other two nodding in agreement.

There was a pause before a shaky deep breath was heard from the other.

"My mom," Carlos spoke quietly. "She gave me that helmet for my birthday. She said it'll protect me if I ever get hurt… This, uh, this wasn't the first time she had been shot. I was with her the last time. The gunmen grabbed me by my helmet but my mom saved me and took the shot. That bullet was for me- I was going to die that day, but she saved me."

The other three were shocked by the information, having no clue, but decided not to speak. They moved to the bed across from the boy so they wouldn't have to stand as well.

"Um, a few weeks ago, I got a call from my dad saying that she had been shot again from another attempt for robbery, this one was more serious though," he told them lightly. They did notice his voice waver. "She, uh, was dying for the amount of blood she lost and improper surgery she got. It was a miracle that she survived so long, from what the doctors said, after the failed surgery but her time was up.

"... I didn't know what to do," he squeaked. "I knew I had to go back home for her funeral but- I don't want to say goodbye… That's why, when anyone touched my helmet, I immediately thought of the shooting. If no one grabs my helmet, then my mom wouldn't get hurt… I'm sorry for being mean to you guys, I just didn't know what to do."

The three glanced at each other before moving and sitting on the boy's bed.

"Listen, Carlos," Kendall began, laying a hand on the crying teen's shoulder. "We get why you did what you did and you have nothing to be sorry for, but just know that we are here for you. As a shoulder to cry on or someone to talk to."

"Really?" Carlos looked at them.

"Yeah, man," James nodded. "Like we said, we're sorry for what happened but that's the thing about life- when something ends, there is always a new beginning."

"So don't worry, we'll stay by your side when you need us to be because we're best friends and we stick together when we are needed to most," Logan smiled a bit. And, the first time in weeks, Carlos did as well.

The Latino sat up and hugged his friends.

"Thanks, guys," he whispered. They nodded and returned the hug.

The End