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“Carter, enough,” sir says quickly, his tone sharp. He grabs Carter’s face in his hands and forces him to look into his eyes. “Enough.”
Carter squeezes his eyes shut and releases a full body sob. Then he collapses forward, pressing his face against sir's neck, and lets himself fall apart. Sir wraps his arms around him again, one hand running soothingly up and down his spine, the other buried in his hair to gently cradle him closer. He starts rocking, humming and hushing from time to time. Carter doesn’t understand it. He doesn’t understand anything at all.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispers to himself, feeling like he failed at the most important thing in his life.
“Carter,” sir says softly, guiding Carter’s head back until they’re looking into each other’s eyes. “Hush now, sweetheart. Listen to me, okay? Trust me. You trust sir, right?”
Carter nods. Hedoestrust sir. He hates it, but he does.
“There’s someone that wants to talk to you.”
A phone is held out to him, Benny’s arm reaching across the distance so it’s right in front of Carter. Carter just stares at it. When nobody explains, he looks at sir. “Sir?”
“It’s-” sir pauses, glancing at Benny. Then his eyes slide closed and he says in a choked whisper, “-Maison.”
Convinced this must be some sick game, some form of punishment, Carter backs away from the phone.
“Carter, take the phone,” Benny urges.
“No, thank you.” He pauses, then adds a, “Sir,” for good measure.
“Carter, this isn’t a trick,” Benny says far too patiently. “Take the phone.”
“I’d rather not. Thank you, sir.”
“Nate, help me out here.”
Sir sighs, opening his eyes and looking at Carter. Carter’s confusion grows.
“Sweetheart, you trust me, remember?” Carter tentatively nods. “I love you. I’m not trying to hurt you. Maison is on the phone. Talk to your brother, Carter. Let him explain what’s going on.”
Eyes burning, Carter watches as sir takes the phone from Benny and gently places it in Carter’s hand. He covers Carter’s fingers with his own and guides him until the phone is against his cheek, helping Carter hold it there. After a shaky breath, and squeezing his eyes shut in case this is a trick and they’re going to laugh at him, Carter croaks, “Hello?”
“Hey, baby brother.”
Carter squeezes the phone. “M-Maison?”
“Yeah, buddy. It’s me.”
“No.”
“Carter-”
“No.” Carter shakes his head even though whoever is on the phone can’t see him. It sounds like Maison, but it… can’t be. “You’renot.”
“On your 3rd birthday, you got a tricycle. You rode it all around the house and mom accidentally left the door to the basement open. You went down the stairs on it and cracked your head. The scar is still on your forehead, though it’s tiny as fuck now.” Carter shakes his head again, his heart pounding. This can’t be Maison. That makes no sense. “You used to call Scooby Doo ‘ooby oo’ and I’m pretty fucking sure it's the cutest thing I’ve heard to this day.” Carter starts to cry, but he brings a fist to his mouth to muffle himself. The man continues. “When ma died… I wanted to be the one to tell you. I picked you up from school and we went for a walk in the park. You couldn’t stop talking about this video game, all excited and carefree, grinning ear to ear, and I remember just wishing I could press the pause button. Wishing I could keep you in that moment. Happy. Only care in the world whether or not you’ll be able to beat the level before your best friend does. When I told you, I swear I saw that happiness die in you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it come back. Not really. It’s just been a ghost of the emotion since then.”
“Maison,” Carter breathes, his world shifting into something…impossible.
“Hey, baby brother.”
Carter snaps his eyes open, looking at sir. Then Benny. Then he hangs up and throws the phone across the room, curling into a ball right after as he prepares for his punishment. He watches Benny nearly fall over himself trying to get to the phone, the man ducking into the bathroom and shutting the door as he taps at the buttons furiously.
He doesn’t dare look at sir.
“Carter, why did you do that?”Carter digs his nails into his palms. “I won’t let you use me. Whatever your game is, I – I won’t help you. If you’re trying to trick him or trap him. Or – or if you were hoping to trace the call. I’m not staying on long enough for you to trace the call. I’m not helping you.”
“Oh, Jesus. That’s not – okay.” Sir heaves a sigh. Carter still doesn’t look at him. “I’ll… be right back. You stay here.”
