Boy Trouble GT

Chapter 15

[MASON]

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, slicing across Mason's small bed in the human-sized corner of the giant dorm. He groaned, rolling onto his side and cracking one eye open to glance at the clock on his nightstand. Almost noon. Late, even for a lazy weekend morning, but Mason wasn't in a rush. Not until he remembered the state of his roommate.

Kye had been quieter than usual, retreating into his room for hours at a time. It wasn't entirely unusual for Kye to brood—he'd practically turned it into an art form—but Mason could tell something was still weighing on him. Probably lingering from the party a few nights ago. Mason had been patient, giving Kye the space he needed, but today? No. Today was different. He was going to drag Kye out of his funk, whether the giant liked it or not.

Mason rolled out of bed and padded into the kitchen, his green eyes still bleary from sleep. The familiar sight of giant furniture greeted him: countertops towering overhead, cabinets built for someone five times his size, and the ever-present stepstool that Mason relied on to function in this oversized world. He climbed onto the stool and grabbed his human-sized mug from a shelf that had been lowered just enough to accommodate him.

As he poured himself a cup of coffee, his gaze landed on Kye. The giant was sitting at the massive dining table, hunched over what Mason assumed was a mug, though in Kye's enormous hands it looked more like a bucket. Kye's oversized hoodie hung loosely off his gangly frame, the hem brushing the tops of his thighs. His bleached hair was a messy halo of bedhead, and his pale face looked as tired as ever. If Kye weren't so tall, Mason might've mistaken him for any regular, worn-out college kid.

"You're up early," Mason said, hopping down from the stool with his coffee in hand. He slid into the human-sized chair at the table, the ridiculous size difference between his seat and Kye's almost laughable. "What's the occasion? Did the world end while I was asleep?"

Kye glanced up, his gray eyes still heavy with sleep but sharper than usual. "Couldn't sleep," he muttered, his voice low. "Figured I'd try being productive for once."

Mason snorted as he sipped his coffee. "Productive? Sitting at the table and brooding doesn't count as productive, you know."

To Mason's surprise, Kye huffed a quiet laugh, a sound so rare it made Mason pause. "I was thinking about stuff. Like, actual adult stuff."

"Big guy's got thoughts now?" Mason teased, setting his mug down on the table—at eye level for him but far below Kye's gaze. "Care to share with the class?"

Kye hesitated, his long fingers curling around the mug. In his hands, it looked absurdly small, though it would've easily been too large for Mason to lift. "Just... trying to figure out what I'm even doing here."

Mason tilted his head. "Here? Like, in this dorm? Or here, like, existing on this plane of reality?"

Kye shot him a tired look, though there was no real heat behind it. "Here, like, at school. I don't even know what I'm working toward, Mase. I just feel... stuck."

Mason leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. From his vantage point, Kye looked enormous—his pale arms resting on the table like felled tree trunks, his bony shoulders slumped and hunched forward as if he were trying to shrink himself. "You're not stuck," Mason said, his voice softer now. "You're figuring it out, same as everyone else. There's no roadmap for this, you know."

"Yeah, but it feels different for me," Kye muttered, his massive frame folding in further. "I mean, look at you. You're good at this. People like you. You know what you're doing."

Mason barked out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Oh, yeah, totally. I've got everything figured out," he said, sarcasm thick in his voice. "Trust me, I'm just winging it. But you? You're trying. And that's more than most people can say."

Kye didn't respond right away. His gray eyes stayed fixed on the mug in his hands, his fingers drumming lightly against its surface. Mason watched him, his own green eyes softening. Even when Kye tried to make himself small, he couldn't hide how massive he was—his long arms and legs seemed to dominate the room without him even trying.

"Kye," Mason said, his tone firmer now. "You're not as much of a mess as you think you are."

Kye snorted softly, his pale lips twitching into a faint smile. "High praise."

"I mean it," Mason said, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. "You've been doing better. You're trying to show up for yourself. That's not nothing."

Kye sighed, his free hand running through his messy hair. The movement only made him look more disheveled, but there was something vulnerable about it. "It's hard to believe sometimes," he muttered.

"Lucky for you, I'm stubborn as hell," Mason said with a grin, leaning back in his chair. "And I'm not gonna let you give up on yourself. So you better get used to it."

A flicker of something lighter crossed Kye's face, and for a second, Mason thought he saw the hint of a real smile. "Thanks," Kye said softly.

"Anytime," Mason replied with a wave of his hand. Then, with a sly grin, he added, "Now, we're not wasting the rest of the day sitting around here. I've got plans."

Kye raised an eyebrow, his pale face skeptical. "Plans? What kind of plans?"

"The kind where you actually leave this dorm and remember what fresh air feels like," Mason said, hopping down from his chair with a flourish. "Come on, big guy. You've been cooped up long enough."

Kye groaned but stood anyway, his enormous frame unfolding like a gangly giraffe. He had to hunch slightly to avoid hitting the light fixture as he shuffled toward the door, his long legs carrying him effortlessly past Mason's small strides.

Mason glanced back at him, grinning at the way Kye's pale hair brushed the doorframe as he ducked to fit through. "Trust me, Kye," he said. "This is going to be worth it."

Kye just shook his head, his faint smile lingering. For the first time in days, Mason thought he saw a glimmer of curiosity—or maybe even hope—in his roommate's gray eyes.