Escaping Is Never Easy (BoyxMan)

Chapter nine

Jason's P. O. V

I got home late at night, around twelve, feeling utterly exhausted. I had a mild headache from trying to sort out Zachary's past, and was even more frustrated than before, as well as beyond curious to know what happened to Zachary.

I had stayed longer then I was supposed to at the office trying to figure what happened to Zachary out, going through his files so many times I lost count. I could probably recite everything I read right now without problem. I had also asked Ross to gather more information on Zachary's family, had him look into their pasts to see if they had pissed anyone off enough that they would go to such extreme measures to pay them back.

But all I found was nothing, and that pissed me off to no ends. No one had that big enough of a grudge against the parents to do this, nor were there any indication that they ever will.

The usual scenarios that led up to this point weren't there, so I was going to have to think outside the box to figure this all out.

But the only place I knew where to start with was Zachary, only there were a few complications in doing that.

1) That area of subject was still a fresh wound and needed time to heal, but me asking him would only reopen the scabs that were trying to keep the wound closed and cause him to remember possibly horrible, unimaginable things.

And I didn't really want to put him through that pain, even if it was necessary.

But since it was necessary to help him, it further complicated the situation and confused me since I didn't know if I should follow my heart, or my mind.

2) I had promised Zachary that his past didn't matter to me and that I wouldn't involve myself in his affairs. Yet here I was doing just that. If I went and ask him to tell me what happened during those two months then I would be breaking the trust between us that had formed and he might disappear on me.

And I didn't want that. I had grown far too attached to the little bugger so him leaving me would affect me in more ways than I can count, and I hated him for that. He was changing me; I could feel it happening already. I'm feeling things for him that I shouldn't be. He was only supposed to be some kid I felt pity for and help save from getting raped and robbed of his money, and possibly killed, nothing more than that.

So why am I so disturbed at the thought of him hating me when he finds out what I've done, or in this case, when I end up popping up that important question?

I shut the door quietly behind me, knowing that Zachary was most likely asleep by now and headed towards my kitchen to get something to drink, my throat feeling dry all of a sudden.

I took out a beer from the fridge and popped the cap off and took a couple gulps of the cooling liquid. I sighed contently as it slid down my throat and settled into my stomach, already feeling the warm burn as the alcohol work itself into my system.

I leaned against the counter and ran a hand through my hair, sighing tiredly. I finished my beer before pushing off the counter and heading upstairs, throwing my empty beer bottle into the trash along the way.

The second I stepped into the room my eyes landed on Zachary, curled into a ball on my bed, the blankets wrapped around his thin form, not as much skin and bone like before, but still underweight. His hair was a wild mess, fanning around him and sticking to his sweaty face. He was frowning in his sleep, a troubled expression on his face.

Is he having another nightmare? I questioned, concern going through me.

As soon as the thought crossed my mind Zachary gasped out as if he were in pain and withered around on the bed, his hands grasping weakly at empty air as if he was trying to fight off something.