The Secret of Us

𝐈𝐗

Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across Rafe's room. Mason was still asleep on Rafe's bed, and the only sound in the air was his steady breathing. Rafe sat on a chair by the window, his eyes red and puffy, exhaustion pulling at his muscles. He hadn't slept at all—every time he tried to close his eyes, a wave of fear would crash over him, a nagging sense of anxiety that something may happen to Mason if he even looked away. His eyes never going far from the boy on his bed, the boy who had somehow come to mean so much to him.

Rafe's thoughts were muddled together and his head felt heavy, yet he kept thinking about the night before. The way Mason had looked at him, the vulnerability in his eyes as he'd asked that question. Rafe was aware of how deeply it had cut. He was ashamed by how he had treated Mason and embarrassed by the fear that had held him back. He knew he had to give Mason an answer, a real one.

Mason stirred, a soft groan escaping his lips as he blinked against the morning light. He slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes before his eyes landed on Rafe. He studied him for a moment, observing the tangled hair, the tired expression, the concern engraved on his face.

"Did you sleep at all?", Mason asked, his voice still sluggish from sleep.

A faint, tired smile tugged at Rafe's lips as he shook his head. "No, I was... I wanted to make sure you were okay."

Mason's heart twisted at that, the air between them heavy with all the unsaid words they wish to spill. There was something so raw and real about the way Rafe looked at him, that it almost caused him to lose all sense of reality. Almost.

For a minute they were silent, their eyes busy studying each other's faces. Mason shifted, running a hand through his blonde locks before he laughed quietly. "I guess I should thank you for taking care of me."

Rafe's shoulders began to relax a little, and his smile grew. "You don't have to thank me. I wanted to."

Mason looked down, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the blanket that was covering him. He could still feel the remnants of the high from last night, the way it had made everything feel so much lighter, so much easier. But with his actions came consequences, his head was pounding, and the weight of reality was pressing down on him again.

"Hey, about last night," Mason said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. "What I said...just forget it, okay? My head wasn't in the right place."

Rafe shook his head and leaning forward, his gaze intense as he observed Mason. He slowly forced himself out of the chair and made his way over to the bed, where he sat next to Mason. He hesitated for a moment, then leaned closer to Mason, his eyes never leaving Mason's hazel ones. "No, don't say such nonsense. You have every right to ask questions, Mason. What you asked...I know it matters to you and whatever matters to you, matters to me" He paused, swallowing hard, his throat tightening. "And you deserve an answer."

Mason's eyes met Rafe's as his heart pounded in his chest. There was something in Rafe's expression that made it impossible for Mason to look away.

"I was afraid, Mason. I was afraid of what it meant to feel this way for you, afraid of how people would see us. But none of that means, that what we had wasn't real. It was real. It still is." Rafe began, his voice cracking slightly, "If you were a girl, yeah, things might've been easier, but that doesn't mean I didn't want you." He reached out, his hand brushing against Mason's, his fingers curling around his. "You deserve better than the way I've treated you, and I want to be better for you."

Mason felt a lump form in his throat, his eyes stinging with unshed tears. He wanted to be angry at Rafe, wanted to blame him for everything that had happened—for getting him high, for pushing him away, and for leaving him. But the truth was, nobody had made him do anything. He had secretly wished to. For a little moment, he had hoped to experience something new, something that temporarily removed the pain. And now, a part of him craved that feeling again, even if he knew it was dangerous.