You may be curious about who the biggest loser was in life. Sure, you may have had your faults, but most people weren't constantly failing at one particular thing. Not if you were Carl Morgan. No matter how hard he tried—no matter how hard he threw himself at other men—he never seemed to find love. Date after date, the men were either "too busy" for Carl or were somehow only "into women" the moment after they'd shared the night together.
Every single time Carl dressed up eagerly for a date, he'd leave disappointed afterwards. His bed was always empty and his heart was the same. At the late age of 52, Carl was ready to come to the conclusion that he'd never find the husband he'd dreamed of. Well, that was until he met Nathaniel O'Cerney.
Nathaniel was everything he would have fantasized about as a teenager. In Carl's eyes, Nathaniel was the most beautiful man he'd ever seen, though others would love to argue. His voice was low and gravelly, like he'd spent years working in a tobacco factory. His physique was so muscular that it could've rivaled Henry Cavill's, but it was ruined by the large gut he'd developed over the years from a poor diet. That didn't bother Carl. He was into bigger men anyway.
However, the real reason why Carl's hopes revived again was because of the way Nathaniel treated him. Unlike other men, Nathaniel actually kept coming back, date after date. Carl wasn't used to being showered in constant attention, good or bad, so this was a drastic change for him. To nobody's surprise at all, he loved it. Carl found somebody who showed him love at last. He was finally happy.
Carl and Nathaniel went out on dates every Friday at a restaurant of Carl's choice. Afterwards they either went back to Nathaniel's apartment to have a good time or Carl would drive home with a stupid grin plastered onto his face. His daughter, Valen, would be home alone often, left to eat the food in the back of the refrigerator. She would be left to starve while Carl ate like a sugar baby every Friday.
That outcome would be the usual, but today it was different. While Carl was poking at his barely rare steak at the grill three miles away, Nathaniel was raking his hooded eyes over Carl's thin body, unimpressed.
"You've lost weight," he stated.
Carl, who was too busy choking on the uncooked fat in the steak, peered up at Nathaniel with a confused look. His head tilted sideways.
"I don't mean to," Carl replied cautiously.
"Doesn't excuse the fact that you're skin and bone," He drawled.
Nathaniel's fork stopped at the bone of the meat, his calloused hand twirling it around his fingertips. The bone wobbled back and forth under his touch, occasionally causing a faint crack. Carl's eyes widened in surprise when the bone suddenly snapped, debris falling back onto Nathaniel's glass plate.
Nathaniel hummed softly, "Reminds me of you, Charlie… just a weak little morsel of flesh, all for me to eat…"
A painful shiver ran up and down Carl's spine. Did he seriously just… compare him to a bone inside a slice of meat? As much as Carl was head over heels for Nathaniel, that comment really put him on edge. If he could break that bone into a million tiny pieces, what on earth would his fate be? Would he crumble under his fierce wrath, just like that short rib did?
"I'm sorry," Carl's head dipped with cowardice.
"Don't be,"
His head jutted up from his pitiful slouch almost immediately. Carl had never heard Nathaniel mutter those words out of his thin lips before, and he loved every single second of it. Even if it was only two measly words, it was better than nothing. Carl craved forgiveness and appreciation from Nathaniel; he felt like a peasant begging at the King's feet, shining his pointy shoes, worshipping the very ground he walked upon. Yes, he knew it was wrong, but this was the only validation and romantic attention he's ever gotten from a man. He had to milk the everlasting hell out of it.
Nathaniel's voice lowered, "You know I love you, darling. I just want you to eat more,"
He reached over to brush his fingers over Carl's scrawny arm.
While his touch felt caring and sweet, it was anything but. Sadly, Carl was far too naive to notice that Nathaniel's actions were all a facade. His charming demeanor and smooth words blinded him from the truth. If Nathaniel was God, Carl was his number one follower.
The squishy steak below Carl's chin flopped around like jello on his plate, his fork begging to stab the uncooked flesh with its silver prongs. Tonight's dinner was not like Carl had envisioned. He had expected tension, sure, every date had at least a bit of that. However, Carl hadn't imagined in his wildest dreams that Nathaniel would mention the state of his body while eating medium-well steak. He knew that he had lost weight, but was that so wrong? He wasn't doing it on purpose…
Carl sighed, his irises shifting to look at Nathaniel's ragged brown beard, "I'll eat more, Nathaniel… I promise,"
The response was sincere. He would truly try to increase the number on the scale, no matter the cost of groceries. Money was tight this year, but if it meant that Nathaniel would fuck him forever, it was well worth it. It couldn't be that hard, right? Just eat a few snacks here and there, finish the whole plate, and treat yourself to McDonald's every once in a while. Anyone could gain weight if they truly tried.
Nathaniel leaned back into his chair, patting his stomach proudly like he was showing off a prized heirloom. Gravy had been smeared all over his napkin, and his breath reeked of green beans. Yet somehow, in a strange way, Carl saw him as the most attractive man in the whole damn world. His big muscular forearms, his tan skin contrasting the paleness of his, that dad bod hidden under his flannel clothing…
Oh god, he was smitten.
"Good boy," Nathaniel reached out and ruffled his overgrown buzzcut, sending a thousand butterflies straight into his stomach, "Let's take you home,"
Carl glanced to his left, catching a glimpse of the black checkbook already returned to their table, Nathaniel's silver card peeking out the side. Nathaniel slipped the card swiftly back into his pocket before abruptly standing up, palms glued flat onto the table. Carl's arm snapped from the force of Nathaniel's grip pushing him towards the exit. Another reminder of how old he truly was.
But Nathaniel still loved him.
He cared.
And that was all Carl could think about while he sat in the passenger seat of Nathaniel's Jeep, classical rock filling the dusty air. He was somebody's. He was loved, and he mattered to another person. It made Carl more happy than he could ever imagine. After forty years of waiting, his hopes and dreams of finding a boyfriend had been accomplished.