Boy Trouble GT

Chapter 6

[MASON]

Mason had been riding the high of a good week. Kye had been doing better—actually better. He'd gone to class for the first time in months, he'd eaten a full meal without Mason having to force him, and, most importantly, he hadn't touched a single drop of alcohol. It felt like progress, fragile but real.

But that fragile feeling shattered the moment Mason opened the door to their dorm and found Kye stumbling around like a newborn giraffe, bottle in hand. His lanky frame wavered dangerously as he leaned against the wall for support, his bleached hair sticking to his damp forehead. The sharp smell of whiskey hit Mason like a punch to the face, mingling with the sour tang of sweat.

"Kye," Mason said, his voice tight, his gym bag slipping off his shoulder as he stepped inside. "What the hell are you doing?"

Kye turned to him slowly, his pale, bloodshot eyes blinking sluggishly. A goofy grin spread across his face as he took another swig from the nearly empty bottle in his hand. "Masey~! You're back!" he slurred, his words tumbling over each other.

Mason's jaw tightened. "You're drunk."

"Obviously," Kye replied, letting out a hiccuping laugh. He pushed off the wall, his long legs wobbling beneath him, and took a few unsteady steps toward Mason. "What gave it away? The bottle? The—hic!—stumbling?"

"Kye, stop," Mason said firmly, stepping forward to intercept him. But Kye, in his drunken state, misjudged his footing and tripped, his massive form barreling toward Mason like a falling tree.

"Mason, watch out!" Kye yelped, his arms flailing as he tried—and failed—to catch himself.

Mason barely had time to react. He darted to the side, his smaller body narrowly avoiding being crushed under Kye's weight. The giant crashed to the floor with a loud thud, his long limbs sprawled awkwardly across the room.

"Goddammit, Kye!" Mason shouted, his heart pounding in his chest. He turned back to see Kye lying face-down on the floor, groaning softly. The whiskey bottle had rolled out of his hand and was now spinning lazily on the tiles.

"Ugh," Kye mumbled, lifting his head just enough to look at Mason. His bleary eyes were wide and unfocused, and there was a pathetic, almost childlike quality to his expression. "I... I didn't mean to fall on you, Mase. Honest."

Mason clenched his fists, trying to tamp down the anger bubbling inside him. "What the hell happened, Kye? You were doing so well! You went to class. You ate. You didn't drink. What changed?"

Kye groaned again, rolling onto his back with a dramatic sigh. His long arms flopped out to the sides, making him look even more like a collapsed marionette. "I dunno," he muttered. "Just... felt like it, I guess."

"Felt like it?" Mason repeated, his voice rising in disbelief. "You felt like it? That's your excuse?"

Kye winced at the volume of Mason's voice, covering his face with one hand. "Don't yell," he mumbled. "My head hurts."

"Oh, I'm sorry," Mason snapped, sarcasm dripping from his words. "Does my yelling bother you? Because you stumbling around drunk and almost flattening me sure as hell bothers me!"

Kye didn't respond. He just lay there, his face hidden behind his hand, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Mason stared down at him, his anger warring with something softer—something that felt a lot like pity.

"Kye," Mason said after a long moment, his voice quieter now. "You're better than this. I know you are. So why... why do you keep doing this to yourself?"

Kye's hand slid away from his face, revealing a tired, defeated expression. His gray eyes, bloodshot and watery, met Mason's for a brief moment before looking away. "Because it's easier," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "It's easier to just... drown it all out."

Mason's chest tightened. He stepped closer, careful not to get too close in case Kye lashed out again. "Drown what out, Kye?" he asked gently.

"Everything," Kye said, letting out a bitter laugh that turned into a cough. "The emptiness. The... the fact that I'm a mess. That I don't even deserve to have someone like you in my life."

Mason's breath caught in his throat. He hadn't expected that—hadn't expected Kye to be so... vulnerable. For a moment, he didn't know what to say. But then he shook his head, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

"That's bullshit, Kye," he said firmly. "You're not a mess. You're not empty. And you do deserve me—or anyone else who gives a damn about you. But you have to stop doing this. You have to want to stop."

Kye blinked up at him, his expression somewhere between skeptical and hopeful. "And if I can't?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly.

Mason took a deep breath, his green eyes locking onto Kye's. "Then I'll keep dragging you back every time you fall," he said simply. "But I can't keep doing it alone, Kye. You have to meet me halfway."

Kye didn't say anything. He just stared at Mason, his expression unreadable. And for the first time in a long time, Mason thought he saw a flicker of something in Kye's eyes—something that looked a lot like resolve.

"Okay," Kye murmured after a long pause. "I'll... I'll try. I'll really try."

Mason nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. "That's all I ask."

As Mason helped Kye to his feet, he couldn't shake the feeling that this moment—this fragile promise—was the beginning of something. Whether it was the beginning of Kye's recovery or just another step in an endless cycle, Mason didn't know. But for now, it was enough. It had to be.