The Rent Boy (EDITING)

Chapter Thirty-Six: Logan's Goodbye-

 A/N: Another song recommendation from CountingLockets!

    Nate placed a fresh glass of water down on the table in front of me, his fingers lingering a little too long before pulling back. I stared at it thoughtfully for a moment, watching a few drops of water, that had splashed onto the side of the glass from the tap, form a puddle beneath and around it. 

    I could see Nate staring down at me from my peripheral vision as he said, "Are you ever going to say anything to me, Ash?" His voice was weak, yet strained as though he was trying to keep it from wavering. 

    I didn't reply. 

    "I understand that you must be hurting, a lot," he continued, putting emphasis on the last two words. "But it's been over a week now, and you haven't eaten, you've barely drank. You haven't even showered or changed. Except, well, except for your jumper."  

    The mention of it had me tightening my grip and pulling my knees even closer to my chest. When I closed my eyes, a voice in the back of my mind, forced forward by guilt, told me to say something - to say anything at all. I wanted to, I just- I didn't know what to say. 

    Willing myself to, I said the first words that came to mind. "I'm sorry," and those two simple words seemed to cause Nate to start, his expression widening into something close to surprise. Like hearing my voice was a rare and valuable thing to experience. I returned my gaze to the glass, feeling uncomfortable by the way he was still staring at me.

    "You don't need to be sorry, just talk to me. It doesn't have to be about what happened or, or how you're feeling. Just. Just talk to me, Ash, please." 

    "I can't," I replied, pushing the words against my body's reluctance to speak. I wanted to lay here in silence for a few more days, but apparently Nate wasn't about to let me be. 

    "Why not?" He pressed. Though his tone was soft, I could tell he was fighting to keep his irritation at bay. 

    "Because I don't know what to say!" My honesty came out as an angry shout, and without realising it I'd sat up, facing Nate with a pained expression. "I don't know what you want me to say, Nate! What is there to even say? I'm sorry I've taken up your couch for the better part of a week? I'm sorry I've lost the motivation and will to do fucking anything? I'm sorry, Nate. I'm sorry." 

    I buried my face in my hands, my fingers slipping into my hair and tightening into fists. I breathed against the approaching anxiety with deep, slow inhales. And I was okay, until I felt Nate place a comforting hand on my shoulder as he sat down, and then something inside me just snapped and I bolted to my feet, turning on Nate with hate-filled eyes.

    My head spun and it took a few moments just to get myself under control so that I didn't fall to the ground from the lack of energy. But eventually I managed to grit out,  "What are you doing? God, Nate, what are you doing? You barely even fucking know me, and you're letting me crash here. You were still paying me even though I hadn't fucked you, I haven't even- we haven't- I just, I can't comprehend why you're being so nice to me when I'm doing fuck all in return." 

    There was a brief expression of concern in his features before he lowered his gaze and muttered, "I told you before that I didn't want you just for your body." He sighed, dragging his hands down his face, his fingertips coming to rest tucked beneath his chin. 

    "It's funny that, you know, because Logan didn't either. You know, kind of funny that, at some random fucking moment in my life, I get two complete strangers that don't just wanna fuck me, but actually want to get to know me. What the fuck makes me so goddamn special?"