Consequences of a Party (1)

-19- Couches and Chats

Mason's curled up on the couch, a blanket wrapped around him as he blankly watched the tv.  Ben's cooking in the kitchen busying himself away from Mason. 

Well, actually, Mason wasn't sure what he was doing in the kitchen. He'd woken up here, on the couch wrapped in a blanket after crying himself to sleep in Ben's arms, while standing up; which was an accomplishment in its self. Ben had taken the quilt away, left the tv on for background noise, and let Mason nap.

Now, Mason sits, sniffing every now and then due to his stuffy nose from all the crying, waiting for Ben to return to the couch. He'd want to talk about it. It was inevitable. 

Ben returns shortly, two bowls of steaming mac in cheese in his hands as he takes a seat. Mason shuffles forward a little, taking the bowl with a croaky thanks. Ben just hands him a fork.

The sound of their clinking cutlery is all that fills the silence, until Mason speaks up,

"Why didn't you say anything?" Mason quietly asks, picking at his food.

Silence.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Ben clears his throat, glancing quickly at Mason before turning back to his food.

Mason purses his lips. Unsure how to respond to his own question. Why didn't he say anything? he wasn't really sure. Maybe it was because the situation felt so surreal. Maybe he didn't want to say anything, because he thought that if he kept it to himself, it would make it easier to deal with. 

What a stupid idea that was.

Ben sighs, rubbing his face as he leans back in to the couch. Mason nibbles on some pasta, avoiding Ben's gaze. 

"Did your Mum know? Is that why she went all....crazy? And Jack?"

Mason nods.

"I had to tell someone..."

"D-did they know it was me?" 

Ben sits with a worried frown, not really sure how he would react to the answer. Mason pauses, not really sure himself. Jack might have said something, but he couldn't be sure.

"Jack did. I didn't tell him." Mason mumbles, stirring the cheesy noodles.

Ben uncomfortable shifts, moving his food around in the bowl

 The whole thing had to have been Mason's fault. He was known to be quite... flirtatious towards people when he was drunk. Including his best friend. At one point in time, many many years ago, Mason actually did have a thing for Ben, but that was ages ago. By chance, unconsciously, did his drunken self single Ben out?  It wasn't impossible, but if he had, he could have easily picked Ben to flirt with, causing this whole situation in the first place.  It made sense.

His gut twists.

Looking down at his bowl of food, half eaten, Mason suddenly doesn't feel like mac and cheese anymore.

"I'm... I think, I might go out, for a bit. For a walk." He stands, walking to put his bowl away in the kitchen. The blanket falling from is shoulders.

Ben doesn't say anything. Only stares at the crumpled blanket on the floor.

Mason returns the the lounge, only to feel a cramp creep in, scaring him as he tenses up, waiting fro the agonising pain he felt only hours beforehand to appear. Panicking at the feeling, Mason doesn't move, his emotions going haywire.

"Mace?" Ben snaps out of whatever la-la land he was in, and immediately stands, walking over to Mason with a concerned frown.

Mason hums -- the feeling disappearing, but still freaking him out as his body stays in panic mode -- Ben gently takes him by the arms, and leads him back to the couch.

"I-I don't think you should go out just now Mace, I'll get you your heat pack." Quietly he disappears into the kitchen, leaving Mason to sit.

He didn't even know why he still felt like crying! He had no reason to cry! Yet here he was, the lump in his throat rising and the tears willing to spill.

Ben returns with the heat pack, tucking Mason back in with the blanket, and taking a seat next to him. Mason keeps his head down, trying not to let the stupid tears out as his friend takes care of him.

Then, for the secound time, Ben reaches out and pulls Mason to him, holding him tightly in a one armed hug, letting Mason rest into the embrace, biting his lip not to let the tears out.

He felt pathetic. Ben shouldn't even care about him. he lied to him! Ignored him, and teated him like shit! Yet here he was, wrapped in a calming embrace, safe and secure with a heat pack to keep him warm.

Pathetic.

˚˚˚˚˚˚˚

Mason wakes slowly, his eyes adjusting to the darkened room. Struggling to move, he lets out a content sigh, his eyes kind of crusty from the tears he know he cried previously.  His stomach cramps a little, the heat pack have gone cold. Supposedly the pain is what woke him. 

He didn't feel so depressed though, which was a positive thing in a way.  Maybe is was because he'd finally run out of energy to be sad? He didn't know.

Shifting a little uncomfortably, Mason notices he's still on the couch.  Still on the couch... and still on Ben. Well, he wasn't on Ben before.... but now he is?

Turning a little, he looks to his friend, noticing Ben is still holding him tight, even in his sleep. Mason stops breathing for a second, listening to the hum of the fridge and the soft shallow breathing of Ben as he sleeps.

Moving a little more, Mason tries to get out of the hold, to just... move.

Ben stirs.

Shit. All that goes through Mason's brain as his eyes widen. Ben groans, pulling Mason tighter to himself.

"Stop..." he mumbles sleepily.

Mason, not sure if that was actually for him, stops.

"Sleep..." Ben mumbles again.

That was definitely for him.

Mason stops, relaxing as he watches the tv, which is still on. Why was Ben being so nice to him? Why did he seem so quiet one minute, and so... loving, the next? Did Ben think it was all his fault? Maybe he did, maybe he felt guilty just as much as Mason did, and was trying to ease it by helping him.

Mason grimaces. It wasn't Ben's fault. None of it was. Mason was the one to get drunk. Mason was the one unable to keep it in his pants. Mason was the one to et pregnant.

Mason was the freak.

˚˚˚˚˚˚

Short chapter. Edit-ish.