Boy Trouble GT

Chapter 35

[KYE]

The dorm was quiet, save for the soft, sluggish breaths coming from the pile of blankets curled up on the couch.
Mason hadn't moved much.
Not since last night.

Kye sat nearby, arms draped over his knees, watching. He told himself he wasn't hovering, wasn't being overbearing—he just wanted to make sure Mason was okay.
The human looked like hell.

His skin was pale, a sharp contrast to the usual golden warmth of his complexion, his curls were tangled, flattened slightly against his forehead, and his body was practically swallowed by the blankets he had wrapped around himself.

Kye didn't even know why Mason bothered with all the layers—he was already so small, and bundled up like that, he looked half his actual size.
Masons face was pinched, an uncomfortable grimace resting on his usually expressive features, his eyes squeezed shut against what Kye guessed was a pounding headache.

Next to him on the floor was the oversized giant bucket Kye had placed there last night—just in case.
It felt weird, being the one taking care of Mason for once.
Usually, it was the other way around.

Mason was always the one dragging Kye out of his misery, always the one pushing him toward something better, something lighter, something more than the nothingness Kye so often clung to.

But now Mason was hungover and miserable, wrapped in a pathetic cocoon of blankets, looking fragile in a way Kye wasn't used to seeing him.
And Kye didn't know what to do.
Didn't know how to fix it.
Didn't know how to undo whatever had happened last night.

So he did what little he could.

A glass of water sat beside Mason, next to some aspirin that Kye had awkwardly fished out of the human-sized cabinets the night before.
It had been a struggle, crouching down to Mason's level, trying to pinch the tiny cup between his fingers without knocking over half the damn shelf.

Filling the glass had been even worse—too small, too delicate, Kye had almost crushed it on accident, had to carefully position his fingers to hold it properly.

Even then, he had dropped it in the sink when the water pressure had been too strong, filling the tiny cup too fast, making it slip through his grasp.
He had cursed loudly, grabbed a new one, and tried again.

By the time he had finished, he was exhausted from something as simple as pouring a drink.

Now, he sat nearby, watching Mason breathe slowly, his face slightly scrunched, like even existing right now was too much effort.

Kye shifted slightly, uncertain, then—hesitantly, softly, he spoke.

"...You hungry?"
Mason didn't respond at first.

For a second, Kye thought maybe he had fallen back asleep, but then he heard a small, weak groan, muffled under the weight of the blankets.

"Not yet," Mason muttered. "I think food would actually kill me right now."

Kye huffed a quiet breath, something almost amused, almost fond tugging at his chest despite himself.

"I could make something," he offered awkwardly never having cooked a meal ever . "Not saying it would be good—but, y'know. I'd try."

Mason let out a tired chuckle, still half-buried under his blankets.
"Appreciate the effort, big guy," he mumbled. "But I don't think I'm ready for that kind of gamble yet."

Kye rolled his eyes, but didn't push.
Instead, he just stayed where he was, his presence steady, unmoving, quiet.
Mason didn't seem to mind the company.