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And then I’m going the fuck back to the safehouse so I can…
Aw, shit.
I guess I should probably figure out what I’m going to do with Casey now, shouldn’t I…?
The mood on the plane is a mixture of exhaustion and elation. Maison takes a seat in the farthest corner, burying his face in a cookbook of all things, a highlighter caught between his teeth. Keats curls up in one of the convertible chairs, feet kicked against the window, and pulls a sleep mask over his eyes that’s pink, fuzzy, and reads: I fucking dare you.
Travis - after putting his phone to his cheek for ten seconds, sighing heavily, whispering something I do my best not to overhear into a voicemail, and dropping his phone back in his lap - pulls out a toothpick and begins running it beneath his fingernails. He’s been doing things like that since he finished with Quinton. He showered three times, scrubbing himself raw in places. Brushed his teeth until his gums bled. Ran a comb through his hair over and over until pieces were falling out. And now the toothpick.
I sit in the chair across from him, pondering if I should acknowledge his paranoia that he’s unclean now, or if I should offer him a distraction.
I glance at my phone, still lit up from when I checked for messages before sitting down. My new lock screen makes me grin - Casey all curled up in my bedding, David tucked beneath his chin, a little peek of my old Saints shirt with the faded fleur-de-lis that I know for a fact I put in my hamper the day before I left.
"Hey, Trav. Can I ask you something?"
Travis pauses his toothpick endeavors to glance at me, then returns to digging beneath his nails. "Always."
"How did you let go of all that guilt and other shit that you felt about Carter loving you? How did you go from being the guy drunk off his ass rambling about Harry Potter spoilers and Carter choosing you despite being the villain, to the guy who can barely stop smiling long enough to torture some piece of shit because he's so damn happy?"
He tosses the toothpick into the trash and sighs heavily, bringing his gaze to meet mine. He looks fucking tired. Like maybe this whole thing is weighing heavier on him than any of us thought it would.
He looks like he's had enough.
We both have.
"It wasn't easy," he says softly. "But what it eventually came down to was respecting that Carter has the power now. I decided that whatever he wanted from me, I'd give him. Friends or lovers or two people who never talk again. I was willing to give him anything he needed, anything he asked for, even if it killed me. And with that, I also decided that if he picked me, if I was what he wanted, I'd give him the very best of me. I'd put away all the baggage and love him how he deserves. Because if he has all the power now and he's using that power to be with me? I'm going to damn well show him I'm worth it."
I lean my head back, eyes sliding closed. "See, the problem is that I'm not confident that Casey feels like he has that power. I'm worried he still sees me as the guy who saved him, even if it's just somewhere in the back of his head."
"He does see you as the guy who saved him. He always will. Because that's what you are. But that doesn't matter, Jake."
"Why the fuck not?" I ask, shooting him an annoyed look.
He smirks. "I remember what he looked like after he found out the truth. He was maybe a little wary at first, but soon enough he was looking at you like he looked at Carter. As an ally. A friend. A part of this team that was going to get through that shitshow together. He even started looking at me like that, at the end there. Yeah, Jake, you were the guy who saved him, but he didn't look at you like he does now. That came later. The feelings for you - the falling in love with you - came later. Now, he looks at you like you hung the fucking moon. And it has nothing to do with you saving him, I promise you that. They're not even connected. He is an adult man who is incredibly strong and intelligent and brave. If he's anything like Carter, then I can guarantee you that all of this time you've spent overthinking this whole scenario, he's spent at least three times as much. Men have hurt him badly. He doesn't trust easily. He will have thought your possible relationship into the damn ground by now. If he still wants to be with you after all that, I suggest you take him seriously, Jake."
I stare at my best friend for a very long time. Then I kick him in the shin and growl, "You asshole!"
"Ow!" He kicks me back. "What the fuck?"
"Why didn't you say all of that before? Why did you get me fucking drunk instead like I had something to be sad about?"
"Well…" He rubs at the back of his head, looking like a sad, kicked puppy. Which… I mean, he's not a puppy, but the rest is accurate I suppose. "I needed time to think about it. I can't just come up with profound advice on the spot, man. That's usually your thing. Pardon me if it took a bit for me to sort out my thoughts and shit, okay?"
“Fine.” I eye him angrily for a minute, but I lose the fight when he pulls out another toothpick. I lean forward, placing my hand over his. “You’re clean, Trav. He won’t be able to tell what you did to Quinton. And even if he did know, he's still going to want you.”
Travis quickly looks out the window, his throat working harder than it should have to as he swallows. “He’s always wanted me, even when his own blood was on my hands. Even when he hates every cell in his body for the wanting. That doesn’t mean he deserves to be touched by them when they’re dirty.”
“But they’re not,” I say adamantly, grabbing his other hand too. I squeeze them. “You just found out where Elliot is, Trav. And these hands helped you do it. What did you just tell me, huh? If he picked you, if you’re what he wanted, then you’d give him your very best. Put your fucking baggage away and love him how he deserves. So, fucking do that, you idiot. No more fucking toothpicks. And stop with the hand sanitizer. I can smell you from here. Did you put it on your arms and shit too? It’s hand sanitizer, you pain in the ass.”
He frowns at me. Deeply. “Like I said, it’s not easy.”
“But it’s worth it, yeah?”
“Yeah.” He tries to fight it, but a smile breaks through. “Yeah. Worth it.”
“Then that’s what matters.”
His smile morphs into a smirk before he warns me, “It won’t be easy for you either, you know.”
