Kaylah's POV

After seeing Nathan apartment, I can say I was bit shocked by how... plain Gage's place looked. It was no more than the average middle-class apartment: a decently sized living room with an open kitchen, a hallway to the left leading to most likely a bedroom and an attached bathroom. There were no lavish decorations, no extravagant furniture or fine carpets. The only distinguishable trait were the generous windows with a panoramic view of this half of the city, and the sea beyond.

"Believe me, the view doesn't make up for the noise on Sunset downstairs," he gave a nervous chuckle, a hand rubbing absently at the back of his head, seeming unsure of himself in his own home. I found it weirdly endearing.

I made my way to the kitchen, and he followed like a lost puppy. "Do you have anything to drink?"

He nodded, making his way to the fridge and muttering lowly "Well-um- I think I have a couple beers. I don't keep much alcohol around since..." he trailed off, then shook his head and tried again "Since, well, you know."

In fact, I did know, and I decided to spare him the trouble, "Beer is fine. In fact, I prefer it most days," he visibly relaxed at that, and passed a can. Lemon flavoured, interesting. I cracked it open and drained half of it in one gulp. I moved to go back to the living room, and saw him staring at me, lips forming a surprised o shape.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh c'mon, you look way too surprised. Women can drink beer too, honey,"

Another nervous chuckle, "Yeah, I know that of course but Ari hated it and I supposed most of you did too? I don't know," he flailed his arms weirdly, supposedly referring the entirety of the female population.

I changed the subject, "Weird question. How come your place is so plain? I mean, I'm all for the minimalist living style, but I'd thought your parents were...." Filthy rich? Spoiling you? I didn't even know where I was going with this, so I shut myself up with another gulp of beer.

He weird seemed to brighten at my question, which I hadn't expected. "Yeah well when I turned 18, I decided I'd like to try and make it on my own, you know. Be less of a 'spoiled brat'. I found this place for rent dirt cheap, probably because of nobody wants to be woken up at every hour of the night by cars racing on Sunset. I make rent comfortably from football. Well, did," he lapsed into a weird silence, and I decided not to push it.

I leaned further into the couch and felt something solid under one of the decorative pillows. Frowning, I pushed it aside and found a black leather journal, with a cheery smiley face sticker in one corner. "What's this?"

He looked at the journal, and then met my gaze, looking slightly flushed "It's from my therapist. I'm supposed to write down any angry or upset thoughts and try to pinpoint where they come from. Dreams too, sometimes. You can take a look I don't mind," I flipped it open, curiously skimming through it.

"What's it like, seeing a therapist? "I tried to sound casual, conversational. I didn't take my eyes off the journal.

When I'd finally convinced Ari to see a psychologist, we made a pact: She goes as long as I don't ask about it, and we keep it quiet. But Gage seems perfectly okay with it, so what's the harm in asking?

He was silent for so long I wasn't sure he'd answer. "Ugh just forget I'd asked. I mean, it's a stupid q-"

"It helps, you know. You don't realise right away, but you wake up one day and notice it in the little things. And no, it's not stupid. It's just that you're the first person that has asked me that," he muster realised what I was about to ask, because he had an answer before I even voiced a question.

"My parents haven't really checked up on me after- after what happened. Or my teammates. Well, ex-teammates," the smile he gave me, a baring of teeth which rambled a wince more than anything else, said it all. I placed my hand on his thigh, in what I hoped was a comforting manner.

I've always known I was an impulsive person, running my mouth faster than my brain can process, but I was surprised of the words spilling out of my mouth nonetheless " It took me so damn long to convince Ari to see a damned psychologist, you know. I couldn't help her, and she was paralyzed by the fear of others finding out she needed help. As if seeing a psychologist for an anxiety disorder made her a freak," I let out a bitter laugh, tripping over my words, " And when she finally did, and got a prescription and started doing better, I was bursting to ask so many questions and just tell someone because I was so happy, but I didn't. Because I'd promised." I took a deep breath, and I could feel Gage watching me intensely

"It's the 19th today, and she should've had an appointment. I called the cabinet to ask if she'd rescheduled, and they said she hadn't showed up for months. Months, Gage. And I know she isn't taking her meds because I can see it. And-" I was squeezing the life out of the empty beer can, and failed to realise until gage had to pry it out of my hand. I exhaled. "She's known him for little over 2 months, and I bet he knows more about what book she's last read or how she's tweaked her sleeping schedule or her state of mind right now and it hurts." Two months and about two weeks. Halloween was just around the corner. God, has it really been that long?

It was his turn to comfort me. He pulled me closer, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, and I remembered thinking earlier while holding how easy it would've been for him to snap my neck. It seemed like so long ago. How much can change in the span of a few hours.

"It hurt me too, y'know. Realising my best friend was never my best friend at all. I'm not saying that we're going through the same thing, but- "

"You still care 'bout him, don't you?" I knew he did. I could see the way his eyes glazed over whenever I'd mention him. A depraved, traitorous, lying, psychotic asshole. But still the person who's been right next to him, on this very couch, and probably laughed with him time and time again as they watched reruns of their favourite shows.

He didn't answer, but I could feel him tense beside me. He nodded, slowly, as if afraid of judgement. I'd listened to him talk about him for the better part of an hour earlier, so I wasn't exactly surprised. I wouldn't be surprised to find out Gage was somehow his motivation for doing whatever he was going to do to Ari, either. Hurt her, perhaps pin it on him as some sort of twisted form of revenge. I pictured the gun I was earlier, its case showing signs of wear. I shook my head. I had to do something, and soon.

"I don't blame you for it. He might be a liar, but he's a damn good one," I was facing him, and I watched the surprise register on his face. I must've leaned forward, or maybe he did, because suddenly we were kissing, more teeth than tongue, a play for dominance, a show of strength. I pulled at his shirt, and he helped me tug it off, and he ripped off mine, fumbling with the clasps of my bra. But it was a rash move, an impulsive gesture, and when my mind caught up with my mouth, I jerked away, breaking the kiss abruptly. He looked at me in stunned horror, eyes wide, and I might've found it comical if I weren't the recipient of that stare.

"I'm so sorry I- I didn't realise. Fuck I didn't mean to, I don't know why I did that. Please don't-" he was scooting further away on the couch with each word, eyes unfocused and jumpy, as if he wanted to focus on my face and gauge my reaction but couldn't; wouldn't, out of fear of what he could find.

"Don't. It was me, okay? I kissed you, not the other way around. And I shouldn't have, because it was uncalled for and I'm sorry," but I wasn't sure he'd heard me. He was now tucked into a corner of the couch, legs pulled out and arms around them, quiet expect for his raged breath, hitching every couple of seconds. I got up, walking slowly, not quite sure what to do with my arms. I lowered myself next to him and touched his arm. The look he gave me was pitiful. "If you want me to leave, it's okay,"

He shook his head so violently I was startled. He was still shaking his head when he grabbed my arm and said, "No, please stay. Just-everybody's leaving lately. I- can we just pretend that didn't happen?" he looked so hopeful, his eyes pleading, I couldn't help but nod. I didn't really want to leave, anyway.

"Don't I scare you?" his voice was meek, subdued. I gave him a look.

"Well, since I'm in your apartment, I think you already know the answer to that. I have other people to watch my back from. How does the saying go? 'The enemy of my enemy is my friend'?" I was angry with myself. Some boundaries should never be crossed.

"You do know that after all this is over this" I gestured back and for the between us, "can't continue, right?"

His eyes were downcast, shoulders curled inward. The only word that came to mind was pathetic, and I truly felt sorry for him. It must be awful to be unable to control your impulses like that.

My phone vibrated, which made me jump. But I didn't pull my phone out yet, instead staring at Gage's profile. After a while, he straightened out, and cleared his throat. "You can have the bed," he pointed down the corridor, "It's the first door on your right. Bathroom's next to it. I'll take the couch,"

I tired to imagine his 6'2 frame trying and failing to get comfortable on the brown leather couch which I doubted would even fit me properly, and was about to say something, when he cut me off. "It's for the best, okay?" I could tell there was no place for arguing, at least not right now. Plus, it was late, and I was just tired.

I gave him a little smile, which I hoped looked encouraging, and went in search of the bedroom. It wasn't much, but the bed was king sized, the covers a bit rumpled. I flopped down onto the mattress, too tired to get under the covers. I debated calling after him, persuading him that this was still his bed after all and although I didn't want anything sexual, having someone sleep next to me was nice.

I undid my belt, and then realised I was still wearing just my bra. Wanting to avoid the awkwardness of going back to the living room to retrieve the shirt, I got up and pulled a shirt off his chair. It smelled crisp, faintly like cheap detergent. Most importantly, it seemed unused. I had always been very comfortable with my body, and was used to wearing my friends' clothes, even boys' ones. Most of them just roll their eyes, because they know that's how I am. I can only hope Gage won't be disturbed in the morning.

I was grateful to be sitting on the bed when I read the text I'd gotten earlier. It was the first actual text I'd gotten from Ari in weeks, and I felt like slapping myself for not checking it earlier. She wanted to meet, so I picked the only location I could think of. Bailey's. She'd be back tomorrow afternoon, and although Sunday evenings can be particularly busy in the old city centre, I'll probably be grateful for the background noise. I can't stand silence, anyway.

I texted her the time and place, and waited for an answer, although I wasn't expecting one. She was probably already asleep.

I thought back on how much my life had changed in the past couple months and considered Nathan's intentions for a moment. This must've been planned weeks, even months in advance. Although that made me severely uncomfortable to think about, I had to admire it in its own sick way. I fiddled with my earlobe, as I often did when I was thinking something over, and realised I was missing an earring. I'd have to look for it in the morning.

If this were a play, what role would each of us play? Was Nathan the grandmaster, nudging the unsuspecting subjects along for his own motives? I suppose he was. Gage was the fool, hopelessly pinning after the princess, and caught up in drama way over his station. 

And then, who was I? A royal courtier, waiting for the right moment to get in the good graces of the play's grandmaster to stab him in the back? Maybe so. One question remained though. How many heads will roll before the curtain falls?