Page 6 of A Dangerous Game

Carter shakes his head. He parts his lips, trying to force the words out, but they stick heavy to his tongue. After a few more seconds, he just hangs up.

Then he puts the phone on the counter and curls back up in his ball, crying again.

All he ever does is cry.

After sitting in the bathroom crying for almost an hour, Carter finally comes out. He stops in front of Nathan and levels him with a glare so intense Nathan feels something inside of himself shrivel. "Take this collar off. Now."

Chest going tight, Nathan pushes to his feet and heads straight to the dresser where he keeps the key. Carter recoils when Nathan comes close to him, but forces himself to stay still until the leather falls from his throat. Then he's stepping away from Nathan and looking at Benny. "Go."

Benny looks at Nathan. When he nods, Benny does as told, not bothering to speak before he leaves.

Then it's just Carter and Nathan in the room, the air so thick with emotion and betrayal that Nathan can barely breathe. He just stands and watches as Carter walks into his large closet. Nathan rocks on his feet with the intention of following him before realizing he probably doesn't want Nathan to, forcing himself to stand in the silence and wait for him instead.

Carter comes out a minute later in a navy blue cashmere fisherman sweater that goes to the middle of his thighs, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants underneath that Nathan assumes he tied or rolled or did some sort of magic to so they stay up on his skinny hips.

When Carter just stands there, looking down at his clothed body like he doesn’t recognize it, Nathan decides to bite the bullet. “What I’ve had to do to you… it’s nearly killed me, Carter.”

Carter scoffs. “Yeah, well, me too.”

“Carter-”

“Don’t. Just… don’t. I can’t hear another apology or explanation or anything right now. I just want to be alone.”

“Carter-”

“Nathan-" he pauses, frowning. Then his lips twist into a sneer. "Travis, I guess I should say. In the last few days, I've been reduced to the mentality of an object, I've negotiated my own murder and feltrelieved, I've found out that my own brother has been in on my torment all along, and it turns out the man I thought loved me, the man I've been hating myself for falling in love with, only ever saw me as an assignment. So, just… leave me the fuck alone right now, okay?"

Nathan’s chest constricts. “You are so much more than an assignment to me, sweetheart. I love you. This doesn’t change that. This doesn’t-”

“Okay. Bye.” He turns on his heel and walks back into the closet, closing the door. It doesn't lock, a fact Nathan hears him figure out after a few seconds of jiggling the knob. There’s a loud huff before the distinct sound of a body hitting the floor.

Taking a deep breath, Nathan wraps his hand around the doorknob and twists, pushing the door partly open. Carter sits up from where he had laid down in the center of the room. His eyes are cold and accusing, despite being filled with devastated tears. “Get out!”

“I’m sorry, but you have to leave this door open.”

“The fuck I do.” Carter crosses his arms over his chest. Nathan has to bite back a smile. The boy is so damn cute when he gets riled up. It’s not even fair. “My brother says I don’t have to obey you if we’re in private.”

“Correct. But you’ve also been suicidal. I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

Carter’s face twists, his eyes darting away. “I’m not going to do that. I don’t want that anymore. Not now that I know there’s going to be an end to this…”

“Well, you’ll have to convince me of that. It’s not a risk I’m willing to take.”

“Go fuck yourself,” the boy mumbles, lying back down and curling in on himself, his back to Nathan.

“You’re more than welcome to stay in here, but you can have the bed if you’d rather. I’ll sleep in the chair.”

“Just leave me alone.”

“Carter-”

“I don’t want to be in that bed!” the boy suddenly shouts, propping himself up on an elbow. His voice cracks and shakes when he speaks again. “You - we’ve done - I’ve let you - I’m not fucking laying in that bed ever again!”

Nathan’s gut twists, a thick mass forming in his throat. He clears it twice before giving up and saying in a rough voice, “Fair enough. Can I get you anything?”

“Fuck you.”

Nathan ignores the insult. “Pillow? Blanket? Water?”

“Fuck. You.”

“Okay.” Nathan walks to his bed and sits down on the edge, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward to hold his head in his hands. He supposes he’ll just have to… wait.