Boy Trouble GT

Chapter 11

[MASON]

The soft glow of the television illuminated the room, the muted sounds of the basketball game fading into the background as Mason glanced to his side. Kye had finally drifted off, his breathing slow and even, his long limbs stretched out across the couch. Mason remained seated, leaning into the cushions with his head propped up on one hand, but his attention was no longer on the game.

Instead, his green eyes traced over Kye, drinking in the view of his roommate with an almost unconscious fascination.

Kye's pale skin seemed to glow in the dim light, the starkness of it against the dark fabric of the couch catching Mason's attention. His arms—long and slender, with faint traces of veins running beneath the surface—rested loosely against his chest, the loose black singlet hanging off his frame. The thin fabric did little to conceal the edges of the tattoo on his ribs, the black scorpion inked into his side like a hidden secret.

Mason's gaze lingered on Kye's legs, stretched out across the cushions. They were long, almost ridiculously so, with bony knees and sharp angles that somehow managed to look graceful in their awkwardness. His bare feet, pale and slightly curled from the chill, peeked out from beneath the hem of his boxers, and Mason couldn't help but think how strangely vulnerable he looked.

Kye's face, usually guarded and tense, had softened in sleep. His high cheekbones cast faint shadows under the flickering light, and his bleached hair fell messily across his forehead, framing his slender features. His lips, slightly parted as he breathed, looked soft and unassuming, devoid of the sarcasm or self-deprecation that so often marked his expression.

Mason let out a quiet breath, his chest tightening with an unfamiliar feeling. It wasn't pity—it was something deeper, something that made him feel both protective and strangely drawn in. Kye was a mess, sure, but there was something about him that Mason couldn't ignore. Something fragile and raw that made Mason want to keep looking, to understand him better, to be the one who stayed when no one else did.

Kye shifted slightly in his sleep, his head turning just enough that Mason caught a glimpse of the faint bruises beneath his eyes—proof of the sleepless nights and the weight he carried on his slender shoulders. Mason's jaw tightened, and he reached out instinctively, his hand hovering just above Kye's arm before he stopped himself.

What was he doing?

Mason pulled his hand back, letting it fall into his lap as he leaned against the cushions again. His gaze lingered on Kye's sleeping form for a moment longer before he sighed softly and turned his attention back to the TV. But even as the game continued, Mason found himself glancing back at Kye, his thoughts swirling.

Kye had a way of pulling people in without meaning to. Even at his lowest, even when he was closed off and self-destructive, there was something about him that Mason couldn't walk away from. And as Mason sat there, listening to the steady rhythm of Kye's breathing, he knew he wasn't going anywhere.

Whatever Kye needed—time, patience, someone to hold him accountable—Mason would be there. Because for all of Kye's sharp edges and self-imposed walls, Mason could see the person beneath it all. And that person was worth staying for.

~~

[MASON]

The flyer was still crumpled in Mason's hand as he rushed up the stairs to their dorm. His excitement practically vibrated off of him, each step quicker than the last. His curls bounced with every movement, and the grin on his face was practically permanent. This wasn't just a party—this was a giant-human mixer. It was rare to see events where both groups were encouraged to mingle, and Mason wasn't about to let the opportunity pass by. More importantly, he wasn't about to let Kye skip it.