43. Simone #2
I don’t think; I just do the only thing I know how to do. I lift the covers and climb in behind him.
It takes a second.
Then he shifts, turning toward me. He pulls me into his chest like he’s been holding his breath for days, and finally feels safe enough to exhale now that I’m here.
I press my head to him and listen to the rise and fall of his breathing—uneven, heavy, and tired. I swear I can feel his broken heart beating against my cheek.
We stay like that for a while, just letting him relax into me, letting him feel safe for a moment. Not talking, just…being.
I slowly lift my head and press a kiss to his cheek, and before I can pull away, he grabs my face, pressing a kiss to my lips.
It’s not passionate or heated. It’s desperate, like grabbing for air while you’re drowning.
And I let him. I even kiss him back, trying to resuscitate his heart.
It’s in that moment that I feel it.
It didn’t take some happy moment, or any swooning, or me being so swept up by this boy, to know.
I love him.
I love him in his darkness just as much as I do in his light.
I love him enough to sit in this darkness with him and not move until he’s ready to get up.
He presses his forehead to mine like he always does when he’s begging without words for me to be his anchor.
It’s then that I feel his tears falling onto my cheeks. I swipe my thumbs along his face, wiping them away as they fall. Staring into his eyes, waiting until he’s ready to give me more.
“I don’t feel like I can be around anyone like this,” he whispers. “The thoughts won’t turn off, and it physically hurts. Everything…hurts, Simone.”
“I know. I know, Mase.”
“I tried to act normal, but I can’t get out of my head.
It’s like I’m not allowed to feel okay yet.
I don’t deserve to be okay yet. This was my fault.
It’s always my fault. And I deserve more than a stupid ass sling on my arm and my fucking dad making it like nothing ever happened.
” He pauses, trying to collect himself. “I can’t stop thinking about him dying, and it being my fault.
I can’t stop playing over and over in my head what could have happened, like it’s what actually happened.
For weeks after he came home, I kept having to go and physically check to see if he was still here because it felt like my mind was trying to convince me he wasn’t actually alive. ”
“Tank is alive. You’re alive. And this…this isn’t the answer for any of it, Mase. You can’t stay like this, locked away, punishing yourself.”
“Why not?” he murmurs.
“Because you don’t deserve to, no matter what your brain is telling you; you don’t.”
I can feel the tap of his fingers under the covers, like he’s trying to force his thoughts to slow, give the racing feeling in his body somewhere to go.
The silence starts to feel suffocating, like if I don’t pull him out of his head, he’ll stay stuck there.
“Maybe,” I start gently. “Maybe you should talk to someone, Mason.”
“For what?” he scoffs. “So they can tell me how fucked up I am? I already know that.”
“I’ve seen it help people,” I say gently. “It helped Lydia.”
He stiffens. “I’m not like Lydia. I’m glad that worked for her, but…I’m not her.”
All I can think about are all the bottles scattered across this room, and all the broken parts of a boy forced to stay hidden under a smile until he feels so drowned by constantly pretending he has to hide away from the world.
“You can’t stay like this,” I say instead. “I won’t let you. You’ve gotta get up. You’ve gotta keep going.”
He doesn’t respond.
I start to move, sliding out of the bed, and his arm tightens around me.
“Don’t,” he says quietly. “Just…give me a couple of minutes. Please.”
I hesitate.
“I just need to hold you,” he adds. “This is the quietest my head’s felt in days.”
I settle back against him, my back to his chest. His arms wrap around me, both careful and desperate in the same touch.
I melt into him even though I know where this path leads.
I know how, eventually, his jagged edges will start cutting me, too.
And I’m okay with that. I tell myself I’m okay with bleeding for him. I’ll be prepared when it happens. I’ll be ready with a suture kit to sew up his heart and mine. Even if I have to sew what broken pieces are left of both of them together just to make one whole heart.
It feels like an hour goes by that we stay like that, not moving, not talking.
I have to force myself to sit up, to get him to keep going. If not for himself, then selfishly…for me.
“When’s the last time you showered?”
He looks up at me like he’s thinking about it. “How long have I been in this room?”
“Three days.”
“Then…three days.”
I reach my hand out for him to take. “Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
He groans but follows me.
I stop and grab him some clothes from his drawers before leading him to the bathroom.
I stop at the door, handing him the clothes and a towel.
“Will you stay?” he asks, looking back at me.
“I’m not going anywhere, Mase.”
“I mean…in here. Can you just sit and stay with me?”
I nod.
The bathroom fills with steam as Mason starts to undress.
He tugs off his sweats and stands in a pair of black boxers that cling to his toned thighs, drawing my attention to them.
When he goes to lift his shirt from the bottom, he stops halfway because he can’t lift it over his head with his bad shoulder.
I quickly hop down and move closer, grabbing for the hem of his shirt and lifting it the rest of the way over his head.
He turns and stares, just inches away from my face. “Thank you.”
I swallow. “Of course.”
He takes my chin in his hand and kisses me softly before pulling back, hovering over my lips. “For more than just the shirt.”
It’s so hard not to read more into this moment. I know he just needs someone right now, but the lines feel so blurred. I know Mason cares about me, but I don’t know if it’s all in my head that there could be more here, even when more is scarier than the what-if.
I know he doesn’t like to dwell on the heavier things, so I try to keep it light, distract him from his head a little. “At least you remembered to brush your teeth,” I tease.
He narrows his eyes at me and grins. “You still would have kissed me, even with stinky breath.”
“Let’s not test that,” I tell him, glad to see a small smile on his face.
He pauses and gives me this appreciative look. “I’ve never had a friend like you before, Simone.”
I hate that word.
“I’ve never had someone who could bulldoze their way in and care like you do,” he continues. “You mean a lot more than I could ever tell you with words.”
That makes two of us.
Without thinking, I lift my shirt over my head and throw it to the ground.
“What are you doing?” he asks, eyes trailing over my body, his sad expression turning into confusion, and then into hunger.
“Getting in with you. Is that okay?”
“More than okay.”
I take his rag, squeezing the soap onto it before placing it on his back and washing the areas he can’t reach. His muscles are so tight, and I watch as every place I touch softens a little.
“Who’s been helping you shower?”
I hear him chuckle. “Nobody. I just suffer through it.”
I hand him back his rag, and once he finishes washing, he turns to face me, letting his hair fall under the stream of water. He watches without saying anything, and his eyes feel like they’re worshiping every inch of me.
This doesn’t feel like benefits anymore. This feels like the whole package.
A package with a bomb in it, Simone.
He closes the space between us, steam covering the glass as he pulls me closer.
“Does this happen a lot?” I ask quietly.
“What?” he answers in a hoarse voice.
“The…depression.”
I watch him swallow and tense up a bit before answering. “I’m not depressed.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
I don’t push it. I just let him wrap himself around me, kissing me, kissing my body, being whatever he needs, whatever will keep him here.
It’s euphoric, this thing I feel with him. It’s soul deep, and it scares the shit out of me.
I never felt this seen or connected with Tyler, yet he still broke my heart in a way that hasn’t healed yet. If I give that power to Mason, I’m not sure I’d survive him breaking it, too.
In the same breath that I’m drawn to Mason, I want to run away and protect my heart from him.
I don’t know how to set the boundaries to keep myself safe here. I don’t know if I even want to.