Boy Trouble GT

Chapter 30

Mason knew what this was.

Kye had shut down.

Not in the way most people did when they needed a break. Not in a normal, healthy, "I just need some time to myself" kind of way. No—this was different. This was heavy.

It was like something inside Kye had collapsed in on itself, folding him away, locking him up behind a door Mason couldn't open.
And it wasn't the first time.

Mason had seen this before. Kye retreating. Kye disappearing into himself, into that damn room of his, lying in bed for hours—sometimes days—barely moving, barely eating, barely existing. Mason had spent years trying to understand it, trying to piece together the way Kye's mind worked, but the truth was, he couldn't. Not really. Not the way Kye felt it.

But that didn't mean Mason didn't feel something too.

Because every single time this happened, it left a weight in Mason's chest. Something tight. Something suffocating. Something that stuck to him no matter where he went.
The dorm felt wrong.

It wasn't just the silence. It wasn't just the barely-working heater, or the dim, stale air pressing down on him like the walls themselves were closing in.
It was the fact that Kye was in there.

Not sleeping. Not watching something on his laptop. Not even pacing. Just lying there. Mason hated it.

Hated how much it clung to him, how much it followed him outside the dorm, into his day, into everything.

Because Kye wasn't the only one dragging now. Mason felt it too.

For the first time in his life, it was like something had wrapped around his ribs, squeezing tighter and tighter, making it hard to breathe.

And the worst part? He wasn't used to this.

Mason had never been the one who got stuck. He was always moving. Always doing something, always making something happen. He filled rooms with energy, made people laugh, kept the momentum going.

But now? Now everything felt slow. Off. Wrong.

He barely slept the night before. Just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the dorm. Listening for the smallest sound—the creak of Kye's door, the shuffle of his massive steps, something.

But nothing came.

So morning rolled around, and Mason did what he always did. He moved.

Got out of bed. Got dressed. Went to class. Went to practice. Did everything he was supposed to do.

But his head wasn't in it. At practice, his body felt sluggish. His movements weren't sharp. His focus was shot. He wasn't hitting his times, wasn't there.

His teammates noticed.

"You good, man?" Jarrad asked, jogging up beside him after one of their sprints, sweat dripping down his face. Mason wanted to run away from him, but he knew he'd look insane.

Mason forced himself to answer. "Yeah."

A lie. Because no—he wasn't good. He wasn't anything.

He couldn't stop thinking about Kye.

And then, after class, after practice, after a whole day of pretending like everything was fine, Mason found himself standing in the kitchen.

Yanking open cabinets.

Checking.

Because Kye got like this. And when he did, Mason knew what could happen.

There was always a chance that somewhere in the dorm, hidden under something, shoved into a dark corner, there would be a bottle waiting. A backup. An escape.

And Mason hated it.

Hated that he had to do this. Hated that he had to be the one to look. Hated that it was his job to make sure Kye wasn't making things worse for himself. But he did it anyway.

The cabinet doors slammed shut as he checked them, his movements sharp, methodical, like he had done this a hundred times before.

Nothing.

Mason let out a slow breath, pressing his hands into the counter. That was good. That meant Kye hadn't been drinking. At least, not recently.

But it didn't make Mason feel any better.

Because Kye was still in that room. Still not talking to him.

And Mason was still here, standing in the middle of the dorm, feeling like something was pressing down on his chest, heavier and heavier with every second of silence that passed. But Mason wasn't done yet.

His stomach twisted as his gaze flicked toward the hallway. Kye's bathroom.

Mason had never been in there before. Not really. Kye had his own space, his own giant-sized everything, and Mason had never had a reason to step inside.

But now?

Now he had a bad feeling. His jaw clenched as he started moving.

The bathroom door was open just a crack, like Kye had left it that way the last time he was in there. Mason hesitated for only a second before pressing his palm against it and pushing it open the rest of the way.

The space was massive.The sink alone was higher than Mason's head. The counter stretched out like some kind of runway, endless and intimidating. The mirror above it reflected the whole room, making everything feel even bigger, like Mason was some tiny intruder in a space that wasn't meant for him.

His chest tightened.But he didn't stop. His eyes moved over the room, scanning, searching. Then they landed on the cabinet under the sink. Mason knew exactly where to check.

He moved quickly, reaching up to grab the handle. It was huge, built for someone five times his size, so he had to use both hands just to haul it open. And there it was A half-empty bottle of whiskey.

Shoved toward the back. Hidden. Like Kye had tried to forget it was there. Mason stared at it, his stomach twisting into something sharp, something ugly.

Then he reached for it.

The glass was cold against his skin. Heavy. Full of every bad decision Kye had ever made, every moment of weakness, every quiet night where he thought this was the only way to make things easier.

Mason exhaled through his nose, gripping it tighter. He should've thrown it away, like he had planned to in the first place. But slowly he placed it back into the cabinet, cursing under his breath.. it wasn't up to him to stop Kye. Kye had to do that by himself, make those decisions himself. Even though it felt like masons heart was being ripped from his chest.. he couldn't control Kye.