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Scott’s been in his bed for five minutes when he hears the other heartbeat. His mother is downstairs getting more washcloths because his blood is all over the other ones. His blood. His blood from when he died tonight. He takes a shuddering breath and tries to calm himself.
When Mason walks through the door he hopes the look on his face is one that conveys “I’m fine. I’m going to fix everything.” Because he’s supposed to provide hope. He’s supposed to muster enough of it to inspire it in others. He needs to get them back.
“Hey. You should be home. You should be sleeping.” Because he should. He’s barely fifteen and his shoulders shouldn’t sag as heavy as they do now.
“I can’t…right now. I wanted to check on you.” He says from the doorway.
“I’m ok, Mason.” He lifts his shirt slightly to show the already healing wounds, “”I’ll be good as new tomorrow probably.”
“You were dead.” The younger boy says and there’s a crack at every word, “You didn’t have a pulse Scott. You were dead and now—it’s ok if you’re not fine.”
“I am.” Scott insists and he knows how hollow it sounds. He feels hollow. So he looks at his hands. His hand where claws have extended and it’s reflex to dig them into his palms.
He stops when he sees Mason’s hands cover his own and extract the talons from where they’ve dug in.
“You’re not, Scott. And that’s ok.”
He looks in the boy’s eyes and it takes a moment too long to realize that the blurriness of his vision is due to the tears that have welled up.
“You should be checking up on Liam.” He says around the lump in his throat.
“I did. Now I’m checking up on you.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
“Someone has to, Scott. I know I can’t do much but--”
“You do plenty Mason.” Scott is quick to interrupt and it’s not a false compliment to booster his ego. There are a lot of things he couldn’t have made it through without his help. He tells him this.
The small smile Mason gives him makes Scott glad even for a second, “So…can I do this then? Look after you?”
Scott bows his head and gives a hollow laugh but he nods. He scoots over slowly and painfully and allows the other boy to slide in and sit next to him. Mason takes a hold of his hand again and just holds it while they sit pressed together.
His sobs start quiet at first. They manifest in the shaking of his body and a press of his lips to keep them in until he can’t anymore and they slip out. Mason keeps quiet. He squeezes Scott’s hand and turns his body so that Scott can hide in the crook of his neck. He stays there until he’s tired himself out.
He’s both surprised and glad when he wakes in the morning to find the other boy still there and his mother curled on the chair opposite them.