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Carter didn’t miss Dr. Singh at all.
He sits on the couch, curled in the corner with Casey to his right, and tries to have a positive enough attitude that Casey will feel comfortable getting the help he needs from this bullshit. In case he’s not doing a good job of hiding his scowl, he burrows down in the oversized sweatshirt that he stole from Travis after they took a nice, long shower together this morning, letting the collar come up to just below his nose.
“It’s good to see everyone today,” Dr. Singh says once everyone is settled. His eyes linger on Carter and Casey. “Casey, Carter, how are things going?"
Carter glances at Casey to find him staring at his hands clenched tight in his lap. He doesn't seem to be ready to talk, so Carter takes the bullet. "Good. Really good. I started a class at the university and I got a bartending job. I'm making friends. It's… good."
He doesn't mention the recent developments with Travis. The bastard doesn't get to know about those.
"That's very good to hear. Have you struggled at all? Nightmares? Anxiety? Anything like that?"
"I mean, yeah. Moving didn't magically fix things. But I'm handling it."
"Mmm." Dr. Singh eyes him, not looking convinced, before turning his gaze to Casey. "And you, Casey? Are things going well for you?"
Carter has to grit his teeth to keep from saying, Obviously not, asshole. You already know that.
"Things aren't… as good as Carter," Casey mumbles, still not looking away from his hands. Carter stares at them too. His nails are bitten to the quick, almost bloody in some places, and tiny cuts and scratches are scattered around his fingers like he's been picking at his skin. How did Carter not notice that before?
"Not as good? Does that mean things are still good though?" Dr. Singh asks.
No, Carter realizes before Casey can answer. Things aren't good at all. And Carter has been too selfish and self-centered to notice.
"I'm - uh - it's…" Casey looks at Carter out of the corner of his eye, flinching when their gazes meet. Shame bubbles in Carter's gut. "It's o-okay."
"It's not," Carter whispers. He reaches out, carefully placing a hand over Casey's. They start to tremble beneath his touch as Casey sucks in deep, shaky breaths. "It's not okay at all, is it, Case?"
Casey chokes on a sob, shaking his head. A tear falls down one cheek.
Carter wraps his best friend in his arms, not caring that everyone is staring. "I'm so sorry. I had no fucking idea. I don't know how I didn't see it, Case. I'm so, so sorry."
Travis isn't pleased that Carter is going back alone. It's what's necessary for Casey, he can't argue that, but knowing Carter won't have anyone with him freaks him right the fuck out. He makes the boy promise to check-in with him nightly - him, not the others - and it just barely helps that Carter agrees with an easy smile and a kiss to Travis's frowning lips.
10 minutes after Carter has left, Travis is already looking up rentals in the college town.
Chapter Ten
Carter: How do you feel about art galleries?
Travis: I feel like whatever art gallery you're about to suggest is nowhere near any I've been to before as N.R.
Carter: Good. Rich people art is boring anyway. You free tomorrow night?
Travis: No.
Travis: I'm bringing you out on our first date to an art gallery, aren't I?
Carter: You sure are. Pick me up at 6? And wear those jeans you had on the other night. (;
Travis: You remember I'm the boss, right?
Carter: When you're sir. As Travis, prepare to be whipped.
Carter: *GIF of a dollop of cream being flogged"
Travis doesn't stop smiling all fucking day.
The art gallery is small, fitting the size of the college it belongs to. It’s a simple layout with three statues in the center, and then a circle to walk around them, the walls covered with art to look at as you go. There is free champagne and snacks when they first enter. Travis eyes the bottles of champagne chilling in an ice bucket, trying to mask his disdain. Call him a snob, but nearly a decade of drinking some of the best Dom Perignon in the world makes it a little hard to find this grocery store rose appealing.
