Club - a Breddy Fanfic.

13) Run!

Brett runs home, his head making overtime.
He can't think clear anymore, he's on the verge of a panic attack.
All the way home he can only think of getting home, hiding under his blanket in foetal position, waiting until it blows over.
After half an hour jog he barges into the door, kicks off his shoes, sheds out of his coat and almost falls into the living room, only stopping at the sight of his friends. Peter, Vincent and Mason are playing Mario Cart and look up in unison.

"Woehoe!! You stayed the night bro! Well done!" Vincent greets him.

But Mason did already notice that something's wrong when Brett entered the outside door and hits Vincent on the shoulder as a warning. He puts his Wii controller down, gets up and walks towards his friend.

"Brett?" Mason asks, questioning, his head slightly tilted, careful not to touch him. He has seen this state more than once and more than he likes.

Brett looks bewildered at his pack of friends, carefully avoiding any eyecontact. "Yeah. Okay. Tired. Bed. Now." he manages to say, before he almost runs past them and slams the door of his bedroom shut.

The boys look confused at each other.
Vincent breaks the silence. "Mason? You know what's wrong?"

It's not strange that he asks him. Mason has known Brett since forever. Knows him best of all people. Even before her and the disastrous consequences she wrought.
"No. But this is surely not good. I have no inkling what happened, but he's definitely not good."

"You think it has something to do with bitch B?" Peter asks cautiously.

Peter and Vincent know what Brett went through. Thety were there. Have seen it.
Two years ago, Mason, Vincent and Peter were already living together when Mason suddenly dragged Brett along like a stray kitten, stating he needed a room for him immediately.
And they had a room to spare, so they gladly gave it to him. At first without rent until he could work again.
They had welcomed him. Took care of his wounds, physical and mental.
They've seen him in his worst state, at his lowest point.
They've helped him. Protected him. Looked after him.
They were there when he picked himself up, mending all the broken pieces left, say it loosely, together again.
They even moved for him to get him away when things turned sour again.

"What did that arshole do to him!" Peter looks angry. "Shit! We should have called him when he didn't come home last night! So stupid to think he was having a good time for once. We should have gotten him out!"

Mason shakes his head. "We don't know what happened. Let's not jump to conclusions. I'll go to him and find out."

"But if it's true he's hurt him, we will break his legs when we see him next time." Vincent's voice is dangerously low. It's not just a threat. It's a promise.
Yes. They watch out for each other. Protect each other.
If you hurt one, you hurt all.
Mason nods and walks towards Brett's bedroom. He only hesitates a second before he knocks.
There is no answer, but he decides to enter anyway.

It's dark inside, because the curtains are closed. When his eyes are adjusted to the light that peeks through the sides and under the door he starts to see some shapes.  The hump of blankets on the bed must be Brett who has curled up, his blankets pulled all over himself. The hump is shaking softly.
Hiding, are we? Are you really 25?
He sits himself beside the hump on the bed, carefully not to touch him. He waits a few minutes to let Brett even his breath a bit more, for the shaking to subdue, and only then he starts talking.
"Hey Mate. What's wrong." It's really not a question. He expects answers.

The pile of blankets move.
"Mason..." Brett's voice is soft, broken, but he doesn't continue.

"Tell me. You know you need to talk to get it out of your system. And maybe I can help."
Mason hears Brett the inhale of breath needed to start a sentence several times, but apparently it's not working yet, so silence prevails.
"Hmm. You can't talk? Okay. Question time then. Did he hurt you?"