Mastace couldn't keep his composure anymore. He was too exhausted to keep up with everything that's been happening around him since he moved here just weeks ago. So he cried, just like Briggan had done for him when he'd had enough. Now the roles were reversed. This wasn't because Mastace was now weak. This was because he'd been strong for far too long, and he couldn't go on anymore with all the pressure. Briggan just held him, seemingly unsure of what to do. All he did at this point was allow Mastace to unravel and let loose whatever he needed to in order to get back to the way things were before.
Minutes pass like this, and Mastace finally releases Briggan from the embrace after calming down a bit. "I'm sorry..."
"No, you clearly needed it. What's been going on?" Briggan put his hand on Mastace's shoulder. A move that seemed insignificant in and of itself, but showed just how much Briggan had allowed himself to change. Mastace was grateful for the gesture, and all that it said without the need for words.
"It's my father... He relapsed. Again."
"Relapse?" Briggan's head tilted in curiosity.
"He's a drunk." Mastace said, an unusual tone in his voice. Was it... anger? "He's a drunk that refuses to change. Even when he gets help and asks for it. He just doesn't want to give up his addiction. He says he's powerless to it, but we both know that story is bullshit."
"I'm sorry," Briggan offered weakly.
"It hurts... Bad..."
"I know... If it makes you feel better... I think we all have an addiction of some sort... Even me."
Mastace sniffed. "Really?"
Briggan nodded. "Mine is only recent, but I'm... hooked."
"What is it?"
Briggan stayed silent. He shifted uncomfortably on his bed. His face went pink and his body language gave off a hint of childish embarrassment. "It's not a what, but a who..."
Mastace winced. His ears drooped and his tail swept to one side. He held onto his left arm, and his cheeks went warm. "Oh... That kind of thing..."
"Yeah... It's been... It's been a long time..."
"I understand... You've probably been lonely for quite some time now, huh?"
Briggan looked down at his feet, then at his marred wrists and forearms. "Yeah..."
"Well, you don't have to worry about that anymore. I'm here with you now. That's all that matters at the moment."
"I know... That's what I've been wanting to tell you..."
"Hmm?"
"My addiction."
"What about it?"
"Mastace... My addiction... is you..."
YOU ARE READING
Never Too Late
General FictionBriggan wasn't somebody that wanted friends. He'd been alone for as long as he could remember, and he wouldn't mind it if he stayed that way for the rest of his days. Or, at least, he would've... had someone not began meddling in his life. Now, ever...
