Chapter Text
Mason. Mason Burrns.
The guy with the stupid perfect brown hair that’s always falling into his eyes like he’s auditioning for a brooding Netflix teen drama. Maybe that’s why all the girls go feral. Or maybe it’s the constellation of freckles, that looks like it was dotted with a sharpie for fun, across his annoyingly symmetrical face. Or that he’s tall, athletic, vaguely smug at all times. But the way the girls at school lose their minds over him. I mean literally, fall-on-the-floor, giggling-in-the-hallway, writing-his-last-name-in-their-notebooks level of delusion.
I don’t get it.
Actually, I do get it. Okay-he’s hot. Objectively. Im not blind, i just don’t care. And not in the fake “ i don’t care but I secretly do” way either. Im good. He can keep rotating through his lineup of girlfriends like they’re on a schedule.
Besides, he’s my brother’s best friend, which basically makes him family-unfortunately the kind the walks into your house uninvited, eats your snacks, and insults you like its part of his religion. No knocking. No boundaries. No shame.
“Excuse me, Teeny,” Mason says, nudging past in the hallway, “gotta go destroy your brother at Mario Kart.”
I scrunch my face up. Not because he’s bossing me around in my own house, but because of that damn nickname.
Teeny.
He’s been calling me that since i was seven and, apparently, small. I had to google it the first time because i thought he was mispronouncing “tiny” on purpose. Spoiler: he wasn’t. He just thinks he clever. It doesn’t do well for my self esteem. Im not tiny-I’m just still growing. Maybe. Shut up.
I glance at the massive gap to my left, plenty of space to walk around and then look back at him. Deadpan.
“Stop being a lazy prick and go around, Mason”
He pauses. Tuning back with that maddening rain he’s probably perfected in the mirror.
“How can i if you’re taking up the whole hallway, sweetheart’
My mouth drops open.
Did he just-
Was that a fat joke?
Subtle, but rude typical.
Like “sweetheart” isn’t followed by a jab at my body.
And no—before you ask—this still isn’t an enemies to lovers situation, or one of those stories. I’m not secretly in love with him, and my brother isn’t some overprotective alpha male about it. We don’t hate each other ,though he makes me wanna kill myself,. We just have… our moments. Little flare ups. Mini battles. Casual verbal warfare with light casualties to my ego.
His phone buzzes, pulling his attention like he didn’t just drop a nuke on my self esteem. Honestly it’s probably one of his girlfriends texting something tragic like “ U up? ” at 4 p.m. He barely even glances at me as he walks past, already distracted.
And I try to get the last word. I really do.
“Yeah? Well maybe if you spent more time studying and less time collecting STDs—“
Nothing. Not even a glance back.
Ugh.
That’s didn’t land.
Not even a pause.
Not even a “Ha, good one Teeny.”
Just the sound of him and my brother now shouting over who gets Yoshi. I stand alone in the hallway sounding like a bitter school nurse. Stuck between my pride and second hand embarrassment.
I glance around like someone’s watching, even though it’s just me, the hallway, and my bruised ego.
God.
“Let me go sit my stupid ass down,” I mutter, turning on my heel and stomping upstairs like i meant to do it all along.
I close my door behind me with a dramatic sigh and flop on my bed like I’m in a teen drama, arms spread, staring at the ceiling in existential crisis.
Why do i even bother? Mason’s been playing this game since we were kids, hell since he could talk. He’s a natural at getting under people’s skin—my skin especially. He’s like one of those YouTube trolls who know exactly what comment to leave to make you spiral. And why for the love of all that is holy, did i say STDs like i was a school nurse trying to be edgy?
I groan into my pillow when i hear footsteps coming up the stairs. Not just one set—two. Great.
The door creaks open without a knock. Of course. Why would anyone respect my privacy in my own room?
“Teeny?” Mason’s voice. Smug, obviously. “Don’t be mad. You’re still my favourite sister that isn’t actually my sister”
I grab the nearest throw pillow and launch it at him.
“Go choke.”
“Nice throw, by the way,” mason says, holding the pillow i launched. “That was better than the STD line. Improvement.”
I bury my face deeper into the mattress. I hate that he heard that. And worse, that he graded it.
“Good arm. Terrible insult” he smirks and tosses my pillow back onto my bed like he’s doing me a favour.
I lift my head just enough to glare at him. “Didn’t ask for notes coach”
My brother, Jace pokes his head in, then walks in like he pays rent. Flopping into my chair and spinning.
“You two done flirting?” He asks casually, his eyes on his phone.
“I’m gonna set this entire house on fire” i groan.
Mason laughs under his breath and leans against my doorframe like he’s posing for a Calvin klein underwear ad.
“We were just talking about how you need new material,” Jace says. “Seriously ‘collecting STDs’? You sound like a guidance counselor.”
“Oh my God, let it die already”
There’s a moment of silence before Jace adds, “Also, mason’s single again. In case you were trying to time your burns with his breakups”
I throw a stuffed animal at him. He dodges it like it’s routine.
“Eleven days this time,” mason says stretching. “Might be a personal record.”
I roll my eyes. “Congrats. Want a certificate?”
“Nah,” he says. “Just want a standing ovation nest time i walk into school”
Jace snorts, but i catch the side-eye he gives mason. It’s quick, but it’s there—just a flicker of disapproval. Not over the breakup. Just… the pattern.
“Don’t worry,” i say dryly, pushing my hair out of my face. “I’m not lining to be girl number 101 or whatever”
“Good,” Jace says, too fast. Then adds, “Not that you can’t date whoever you want or whatever. Just, you know. There are guys who aren’t allergic to commitment”
His tone is casual. He doesn’t look at me when he says it. Doesn’t look at Mason either. But the air shifts just enough for me to notice.
Mason notices too, i think, but he says nothing. Just raises an eyebrow and gives Jace that whatever, dude look he’s perfected over the years.
“Well,” Mason says after a beat, “this has been cute, but I’ve got a Mario kart rematch to win”
“You’re not winning anything,” Jace mutters as he gets up. “You only peaked in eighth grade.”
They both walk out like nothing happened, still bickering down the hall. Mason throws one last glance over his shoulder before disappearing from view.
“Sweet dreams, Teeny.”
And they’re gone.
I stare at my ceiling.
There’s nothing dreamy about this day. Just the usual insults and failed attempts to clap back.
Still, I don’t know why my brother had to make it weird. I’m not trying to date mason. Im not even thinking about Mason like that.
Gross.
I roll over and shove my head under a pillow.
Totally normal day.
Totally normal feelings.
Everything is fine.
______
I wake up to the sound of male voice yelling downstairs and the smell of toast burning. Again.
Which can only mean one thing:
Mason. Freaking. Burrns. Slept. Over.
Again.
Because apparently, the guest room is actually his room now. I should start charging him rent. Or at least emotional damages.
I drag myself out of bed, hair a mess, hoodie two sizes too big, and face full of sleep. I pass my mirror and give myself one slow, deadpan look.
Yep. I’m thriving.
Downstairs, i can hear Jace and mason arguing over something stupid—like who drank the last of the orange juice or which one of them is the better looking twin,
Despite the fact that they’re not even related.
I shuffle into the kitchen like a zombie with no coffee or even a will to live. Masons perched at a counter, shirtless of course, like this is a beach house and not my mother’s kitchen. Jace is standing by the toaster poking at toast like he doesn’t trust it.
“Do you own shirts or…?” I ask mason, gesturing vaguely at his very bare, very smug chest.
He looks up from his phone with zero shame. “What’s the point? it’s just us.”
“Exactly,” i say, opening the fridge. “ Us . As in, people who don’t ask to see your nipples this early in the day.”
He grins like I complimented him.
“Morning, Teeny.”
I slam the fridge shut. “You know what, forget breakfast. I’m already nauseous.”
Jace hands me a slice of toast, burnt to the texture of drywall. “Eat. You get weird when you’re hungry.”
“I’m already weird,” i mutter, but take the toast any because he’s right.
Mason snatches the other slice out of the toaster like he fought it and won. He takes a huge bite and talks with his mouth full.
“Ride to school’s in twenty. Don’t take forever doing your eyebrows.”
“Don’t take forever looking in the mirror pretending you’re humble,” i shoot back.
“I am humble,” he says, eyes twinkling. “I just happen to also be amazing.”
“God, i hate this family,” I mumble, chewing bitterly.
“You’re not even related to me,“ Mason says.
“Exactly,“ I say. “And yet i suffer.”
Jace laughs through his orange juice. “You two should host a podcast.”
“We’d be cancelled in less than three days,” i reply.
We all go through our morning rituals—Mason hogs the bathroom like he’s doing a full runway glam routine, and i end up brushing my teeth in the downstairs sink next to a pile of someone’s gym socks. Probably Mason’s . They smell like betrayal.
Twenty minutes later, we pile into Jace’s beat-up car. I call shotgun purely out of spite. Mason tries to argue but i shut it down with one word:
“Seniority.”
“You’re younger than both of us.”
“I meant emotional seniority. I’ve suffered more.”
The ride to school is the usual chaos. Mason DJs like he owns the aux cord. Jace yells every time Mason tries to play anything with a ‘vibe’. I stare out the window, dramatically pretending I’m in a music video.
Halfway there, Mason turns the volume down.
“So,” he says casually, “did you ever come up with a better insult, or are we still recycling health class terminology?”
“Still workshopping it,” i say, unbothered. “You’ll know when it lands. You’ll cry a little.”
“Looking forward to it, sweetheart.”
I snap my head towards him, eyebrows raised.
Jace cuts in before i can launch a verbal grenade.
“Alright, that’s enough. True until at least third period. I’m too tired to deal with your flirty hate-crimes.”
I open my mouth to argue the ‘flirty’ part but shut it again. Not because he’s right. Just because arguing takes energy. And i need to survive math class and dodge the girl who fake-cried over Mason’s last breakup like it was a national treasure.
We pull into the school parking lot and the usual unfolds—people screaming across rows, music blasting from cars, couples making out like the world’s ending. Mason hops out like he’s being filmed in slow motion. I make a point not to look.
“Later, Teeny,” he says over his shoulder.
I raise a middle finger in response.
“Love you too,” he says with a wink.
And then he’s gone.
Jace sings his backpack over his shoulder and gives me a look. Not a mean one. Just that subtle, brotherly kind that says “don’t get attached to my dumb best friend” without him actually saying it.
I roll my eyes. “Relax. I’ve got better things to do than fall in love with a walking caution.”
He nods once. Doesn’t say anything else. Just walks with me towards the school building like usual.
But i catch him glancing back at Mason once.
And for some reason, that sticks with me more than it should.