Ch. 6: Riptide

-Bennett-

It was probably wrong to feel like this.

I was being selfish again. Still, the familiar feeling of dread that always settled heavily within my chest re-emerged at the mere sight of the approaching residence, almost like clockwork. It was coming home, just as well.

There was something irrefutably nauseating about knowing that the uncomfortable feeling would only grow heavier from here on out, ever so suffocating... until tomorrow, when I finally left for class in the morning.

No number of deep breaths would fill my lungs, not until I walked back out that front door and closed it shut behind me.

I let out a ragged breath, struggling to gather my thoughts. It always felt like this... like the air was being ripped from my throat. It was a calm, unsettling fear that bore into every fiber of my being. It was an inescapable constant.

I stared out the window as Mason parked in front of my house, growing unmeasurably more restless at the realization that I'd underestimated how late they'd be up today. There was still light peeking from most of the windows, the house buzzing with life.

"Is this not your home?" Mason asked after a few minutes of silence, reaching over to glare at the number painted beside the porch. "108, right?"

I glared out the window.

"Bennett?"

"...yeah," I admitted in defeat, slowly reaching over to unbuckle my seatbelt. I faked a smile, then, suddenly realizing how ungrateful I was coming across. "Thank you for the ride," I managed to say before hesitantly reaching for the door handle.

It would be alright. It had to be.

Deep down, I knew I could probably get away with a simple greeting before heading up to my room. So then... why?

Why did it feel like this?

I still hadn't opened the door when Mason's hand settled on my shoulder; I realized, with a weak chuckle, that I wasn't even trying to move. I tightened my grip on the handle, cursing under my breath. Not now.

This wasn't the time.

"What's wrong?" Mason asked, shaking me softly until I turned towards him, avoiding his gaze. Still, Mason tilted his head to meet my eyes. "You okay?"

I turned to frown at his wide hand, surprised by how warm it felt despite the layer of clothing between us. "What?"

"You heard me."

I let out a dry, hesitant laugh. If there was even a fragment of my being that felt comfortable sharing how I felt, I'd sooner rip out its throat and vanish it from my consciousness than risk Mason's judgment.

"I know we just met, but—"

"Thank you," I murmured, not really wanting to hear the polite words that would ensue. Not from him. Not now.

There was no point; I already knew I wouldn't take him up on his offer for a "shoulder to lean on". Perhaps I was merely projecting my own selfishness onto him, but I often found myself expressing the same sentiment out of blind obligation.

I'm here for you.

You can vent to me. I care.

I do. Of course, I do. You know I do.

They were such pretty, sensible words. They were so encompassingly vague and brimming with promise. There was ample potential to their warmth, and so much to blindly cling onto. And to hopelessly long for.

But they were often more representative of an impulse rather than a promise, as pessimistic as that sounded. They were meant to be enough. Anything else was usually too much, an overflowing bucket caught under the torrent of a running hose...

The way I often saw it unintentionally reflected within my being.

It was everywhere I turned, from my unsteady hand that refused to twist the car door, to my hypocritical wandering eyes that could no longer meet his gaze. I drowned in my own feelings when I least expected it.

I could feel them bubbling up so aggressively, threatening to pull me under.

The concern in Mason's eyes was as intimidating as the scowl he typically bore, even if for its own set of reasons.

"Hey," Mason called out once more, softer this time. "Bennett."

Why did I feel like this now?

Was it that the slowness of the bus usually gave me more time to grow re-acquaintanced with the restless feeling of making it back? Or was it that at least then I got to walk back from the bus stop and felt the crisp, cool night soothing the darkest of my thoughts before I headed inside?

I would always inhale the cold air in large gasps, greedily indulging in how the noisy, harsh wind would muffle even the most brutal of my intrusive thoughts. I'd take the long way back from the bus stop, aimlessly walking around the neighborhood until the final light had turned off and I knew I'd be greeted by silence.

"The lights are on," I finally explained... as if that was supposed to mean anything to him. I could feel a few tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, yet I harshly wiped them away with the back of my hands before they could trail down my face. It was pathetic how easily I could be swayed by my own emotions, but perhaps someday I'd get better at it. I had to cling onto that possibility, lest I be swept away without even putting up a fight.

Mason sighed and leaned back against his seat, his hand not dropping from where it'd settled on my shoulder once more. "It's still pretty early, huh?" he asked while looking out the window, humming pensively under his breath.

"You said—"

"I know what I said," Mason continued, tsking under his breath. "Hey, put your seatbelt back on," he muttered off-handedly even as he let go of my shoulder and put the car back into drive, suddenly merging back into the street, and driving off... leaving my house behind like it was nothing. Like it was easy.

I stared at the light peeking through the windows as we turned the corner, opening my mouth to complain before reconsidering it. I felt the tenseness already leaving my body in waves, a sigh of relief escaping past my lips as I slowly relaxed against the seat.

I thought you said it was too dark out.

---

We sat in silence, but it wasn't necessarily uncomfortable. I frowned at the paper bag resting on my lap, unable to help the way my mouth watered by the mere smell of warm food. I warily peeked inside, staring at the long, golden pieces cradled in a smaller paper bag, before closing it once more.

Somehow, we ended up parked in the parking lot of Luna Burger Shack, a fast-food joint near my house. Mason had eagerly gone through the drive-thru and ordered us two cheeseburger meal combos, enthusiastically handing me one of the paper bags despite my complaints that I wasn't really hungry and to please stop spending money on me, for fuck's sake.

It hadn't done much good, though.

"I know you said you didn't want anything, but you kept glancing over at the number five meal combo," he provided... as if that was reason enough. "What was I supposed to do? Ignore you?"

Yes.

At least Mason had somewhat caved and handed over the receipt so I could pay him back later, even if he didn't seem too pleased about that.

"Not hungry?" Mason asked before taking another bite of his burger, gleefully humming under his breath as he chewed. "Duuuude, I've been craving this," he added afterward, wiping away at some of the pink sauce that had settled on the corner of his lips with the back of his thumb.

"Not really," I replied, sighing to myself. "Sorry."

I tried not to make it obvious at first, but there was something so amusing about watching him eat. The corners of Mason's eyes crinkled as he took another bite, lighting up with unfiltered joy despite how many calories he was putting into his body. He didn't seem to care, though. It was bizarre, to say the least. He wasn't necessarily a messy eater, but I did catching him wiping sauce from the corner of his mouth and his cheek and... the back of his hand, somehow?

I grimaced down at the fries peeking up from my own bag, which were taunting me by their mere presence.

"Bennett."

I turned my head only to feel the end of a long fry pressing against my lips. I instinctively accepted it into my mouth, unable to keep the shy smile off my face as he gave me a knowing look. "See? Good, huh?"

I chewed on the fry despite myself, slowly nodding my head as he fed me the other half. Mason's fingers hovered closely, grazing against my lips before pulling away altogether. "Not hungry huh? Hmm, maybe I'd believe you if your stomach wasn't rumbling so loudly, dork," he scolded, yet there was no real heat behind his words. "Eat," he repeated.

It'd sure beat the stale cobb salad I'd been planning on finishing when I got home. And still, I could already feel the guilt settling into the pit of my stomach, ever so eager in its re-emergence. I tried not to think about it too hard, but it wasn't as simple as shutting my brain off.

"I used to be like that too... when I was younger," he continued before taking a sip of his iced tea... talking like he wasn't merely a few years older. "One day isn't going to kill you. Y'know that, right?"

I sighed. "I'm not... like that. I'm fine."

Mason chuckled, his grin widening as he waved another fry in front of my face, chuckling under his breath before resting it on my tongue. I accepted it without putting up much of a fight, even if somewhat begrudgingly. It was infuriatingly delicious. Of course it was.

"If you say so."

"I said I'm—"

He shoved another fry into my mouth. I narrowed my eyes in annoyance... but I still ate it.

"If you tell me to stop, I will. And like I said, I used to be like that too. And it was hell."

I couldn't imagine that to be the case, but I didn't fight him on it. Instead, I opened my mouth to receive another one of his fries. "Just one more; I'm not your dad," he muttered before feeding me a final french fry.

Yeah, he certainly wasn't.

"I guess I can be a bit uptight," I muttered under my breath, before opening my own paper bag and reaching in for one of my fries. It was just as warm as his.

Mason nodded his head before pointing at me with one of his fries. "Just try to make healthy choices more often than not. But you don't have to deprive yourself of everything, y'know? What's the point of being miserable?"

I frowned at that.

What was the difference between misery and guilt?

He signaled towards my face before chuckling to himself. "I can tell you wanted to eat here."

"You—you could tell?"

"Am I wrong?"

I frowned. "I guess not," I agreed before glaring at the fries once more, reaching in and picking at a few. They were pretty freaking good. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd allowed myself to enjoy fast food, at least outside of a reckless, emotion-fueled binge.

I always passed this place on the way back to my house, but I never bothered to stop by.

"Feel better?"

"I'm sorry," I muttered while staring at the open bag in my hand, my hands wrapped protectively around it.

Mason tsked quietly, bumping my shoulder so that I'd look up at him. When I did, it was only to find him frowning down at me. "I told you to stop apologizing so much," he replied just as a soft grin peeked through. He'd been handing those out like crazy the moment we got our food.

"I don't mind. You shouldn't either... not so much."

I tried to ignore the warmth that crept up from within, so comforting in its presence. In his presence. How could something feel so calming and unsettling at once? I couldn't help but wonder, wearily, if it would ever burn me. If it could.

Or if I'd grow delusional in its comfort, so quickly becoming accustomed to this warmth that I'd freeze to death when it was inevitably gone.

"So, you're a gym instructor, huh?" Mason suddenly asked, curiously tilting his head.

"Part-time, yeah," I replied before chucking another fry into my mouth, deciding I'd torture myself over it later. "I had another part-time job at the mall until recently, but that one was seasonal."

Conversing with Mason was a lot easier than I'd imagined it to be. I didn't know whether it was the dim glow of the restaurant's neon sign as it illuminated his face, but the coldness seemed to fade away a bit further the later it got.

I hadn't expected us to go to the same university, although it made sense considering it was the closest one. Mason was a senior and he was majoring in Business Economics, which was probably why I'd never seen him around campus.

"There's nothing wrong with being undecided as a freshman," Mason assured me, shrugging. "I was undecided until my Junior year."

"I just—I don't know what I want to do," I replied before hesitantly taking a bite of the cheeseburger that had spent the past half an hour quietly resting at the bottom of the paper bag on my lap.

He made it sound so easy, but I genuinely couldn't see myself making up my mind within the next two years either, as terrifying as the thought was. Perhaps it was a problem in of itself that I could picture myself dropping out more than I could picture myself graduating.

"You're young, though," he pointed out.

I scoffed. "You're only like, what, two years older than me?"

"Silence, child," he muttered, feigning dismissiveness before stifling a laugh. "I almost dropped out halfway through my senior year of high school, so you're already doing better than me."

I grinned. "Oh, I wanted to, for sure. My dad would've killed me, though." I chuckled under my breath before nervously sighing at the thought. Lately, it felt like I was just going through the motions when it came to everything. I could barely concentrate. Or even find it in myself to care that I wasn't all there.

Suddenly, there was a warm hand pressed atop my head. I turned to glance at Mason, who softly flicked my forehead before chuckling to himself. "You worry a lot, don't you?"

"You don't?"

Mason shrugged. "No, I do. I try to."

-Mason-

Dropping Bennett off at his house left me with a bittersweet heaviness in my chest, equal parts guilt over how troubled he still seemed and somewhat glad over how gently he smiled at me as he slipped out of the car. He seemed a bit less wary, at least, now that all of the lights at his house were off.

His cheeks were still tinted a deep red from when he'd realized on the way back that he wouldn't have been able to take the bus back home anyways since his bus pass was also in his wallet. And I'd burst out laughing at his expense, but only because he was so adorable when he got all flustered all by himself while explaining how he'd overslept and had to beg his mother to drop him off at work so he wouldn't be late.

I'd merely chuckled at the fact that he'd completely slept through his uni classes.

To be quite frank, I didn't want the night to end. Even if I knew he had to get back at some point, I felt so tempted to grasp at some random excuse. Wouldn't it be nice to go see the sunrise?

Anything, really. But I kept all those thoughts to myself. We both had class in the morning. And he had work after that as well. He needed to sleep at some point.

I found myself buzzing as I drove back home, suddenly so full of new bits of knowledge about him, like how he used to run track in high school... and how he had to quit the team because he was too accident-prone. How he liked sky blue, which was why his phone case was that of fluffy clouds set against a bright blue sky.

And even how Bennett seemed to adore chocolate even if I'd had to coax him into letting himself split one of the bars with me, his brown eyes lighting up so eagerly once he finally bit into the piece I'd broken off and handed to him.

Because, if there was something I could trust to be genuine, it was those gorgeous, expressive eyes of his. They lit up so ardently when he saw something he wanted.

It was so endearing to witness Bennett's eyes fill with such unadulterated excitement once he finally caved to his wants. There was nothing quite like it. Hell, it'd been that which had made me stop by the drive-thru in the first place; his eyes had longingly tracked the Luna Burger Shack sign as we drove by, just as they had when we first encountered it on the initial drive to his house.

And yet, my mind kept replaying the quiet moments the most, when he thought I wasn't looking. The nervous glances he'd sneak when he thought I was too distracted eating. The few times he opened his mouth to say something before stopping himself, reconsidering it, and going surprisingly quiet until I reignited the conversation. How his expression hardened once we pulled up beside his house once more, an unsettling wave of melancholy emitting from him as he finally mustered up the strength to open the car door.

And the brave face he'd put on once he realized I was peering down at him, even as flashes of worry flooded his eyes.

"What demons are you hiding, Bennett?" I whispered, but my weary voice was barely audible against the car engine.

---

A/N: Thank you for reading. Please consider voting and commenting; I appreciate it immensely.