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And Carter thinks, Why wouldn't I be okay?
And then he remembers.
The guilt is first. It slams right into his chest, stealing his air and bringing tears to his eyes. His skin crawls with it. Every place where his body touches Travis itches.
The grief comes next. It's slower, all-encompassing, coming at him from every angle until he's fucking drowning. It makes him want to cling to Travis and beg him to never go away. It makes him want to hide under the blankets all alone and sob for weeks.
"Carter?"
It's then that he realizes he's started to cry. He sucks in a breath, ready to lie and say he's fine. The oxygen seems to be all he needed to fall apart though, a loud sob escaping him. His whole body shudders with the sound. Then another one follows. And another.
Travis pulls out of him and sits up, one of his hands carefully settled on Carter's thigh. It's the only place they're touching now. Carter stares at the spot and sobs harder.
"I'm so sorry," Travis says, his voice tight. "I'm so, so sorry, Carter."
I'm sorry too, he wants to say.
I miss you.
I hate you.
I fucking love you.
But all that comes out is another sob. And another. Until he loses count.
He only manages to get himself under control when he realizes Travis is about to get dressed. He hadn't even realized the man had left the bed. Heart nearly bursting from his chest, Carter tries his best to say, "Please don't go," through his cries.
"Carter-"
"Please." He reaches a hand out, fully aware of how pathetic he must look right now. "Don't leave me."
Travis's body sags at the words, though Carter isn't sure if it's from defeat or relief. Either way, the man gives in and comes back to bed. He wraps himself around Carter, holding him close, and kisses his sweaty forehead.
Already having passed his threshold for humiliation, Carter lets himself ask, "Are you staying?"
"Yeah, Carter." Travis sighs softly. "I'm staying."
Neither of them say one last time.
Maybe it's about time they stop wasting their breath on that lie anyway.
Travis jerks awake, his breath catching in his throat as a hand closes around his bare shoulder. He’s about to leap into action when his brain registers a whispered, “Easy, Killer. It’s Maison.”
“Mais - what the fuck?” He sits up - or tries to. Something is pinning him down. What the fuck? He squints through the darkness to see a body draped halfway over him, an arm wrapped around his waist, warm breath blowing on his chest. It takes an embarrassingly long time for him to put together that it’s Carter laying on him. Then, not-so-helpfully, his brain reminds him that the man waking him up is Carter’s older brother. And Travis and Carter are very naked. And have very clearly fucked recently.
Fuck.
Travis cradles the back of Carter’s head and gently rolls over until the boy is settled on the mattress. He extracts himself carefully, chest aching when Carter whines and reaches blindly for him before giving up and returning to deep sleep.
He needs his moose.
Travis makes a mental note to figure out where all his stuff ended up from the Roarke compound. He had asked the team that emptied the house to pack up his bedroom, since there were a few things he wanted to keep. He had told them the code to his safe so they could get all his files. He had told them to grab the moose too. They better not have forgotten.
Fully aware that Maison hasn’t left, Travis yanks on his discarded jeans - not bothering to search for his underwear - and leads him to the door before they accidentally wake up Carter.
When they get into the hall, the bedroom door safely shut behind them, Maison settles a glare on Travis that would make him cower if he didn’t have the past that he has. Once you’ve watched Mica peel someone’s skin off with a potato peeler or you've raped the boy you love, a glare from a best friend doesn’t have much weight to it.
Then again, his best friend is that boy he loves big brother, so maybe it should…
