Being hit with a ball in lacrosse hurt. Watching Preston breakdown emotionally and physically hurt. The fact that there was nothing he could possibly say or do to make him feel better was one of the worst things he had ever seen in his life. Someone had broken him so far down, and there were so many emotions that were just gathered up for so many years. Carter didn't know how he handled it and let them all seep out like this. It wasn't slowly falling apart, everything was exploding all at once now. I don't believe you. It was one of the most hurtful and negative things that Preston had ever said to him, but it wasn't something that he found unnecessarily mean. It was the truth, and something that this boy felt strongly enough about to express. But what even worse came when the boy didn't even let him touch him with the softest finger touches. There was nothing that was going to get him to be the slightest bit trusting, and that angered Carter too much. Someone was fucking with his boyfriend, and he needed to find out who it was. He wasn't going to snoop, no, but he would find out who it was. He watched Preston open his phone one too many times, and finding out the name of this asshole was only going to make Carter that much more angry. He would do something about it, and he was almost positive that the boy would end up in a hospital after he was done. "I don't know what else I can do to show you that I'm here for you and I'm--" Preston didn't fall because he tripped, he fell because he was breaking. Carter closed his eyes for a second before he slowly made his way to the sofa and sat down, putting his head in his hands as he tried to think of a solution. "Let me help you, Preston. He's fucking with you! Can't you see that I'm just trying to help you?" His voice was raised in the frustration that this boy was actually sobbing because of another person. A person who didn't see the beauty and complexity that Preston actually was. It pissed Carter off to no end, and he couldn't even put into words the anger that boiled in him. "Preston, let me fucking help you. You're not fine at all, and even I'm not stupid enough to believe that. Don't tell yourself that, either. You're not fine, and you need someone to help you. Don't fucking fight that shit off just because you want to be strong. You've been strong for seventeen fucking years, and sometimes, people break down. And people are beaten down, and sometimes it really fucking hurts. But you're allowed to not be strong sometimes. You're allowed to ask me for comfort, because I'm willing to hold you." Carter couldn't see Preston because he was on the other side of the sofa, on the floor, where Carter was sitting on the edge, away from him like he had wanted. "You're allowed to sob and you're allowed to text that guy and tell him how you truly feel instead of telling him to fuck off or whatever else you're saying. You're allowed to not trust me, but you're not allowed to push me away when you know you need me the most. I won't let that happen. So, as a good boyfriend should," His voice cracked at the emotion that was pushed into his lengthy words. "I'm staying on this couch all fucking night, so you can crawl up to your bed and hide away in the covers like you do when you're sad, and I'll be right here. I'm not moving no matter how much you want me to."