"And if I could, I'd get you the moon and give it to you."

A.N// Thank you daisyclouds89 for showing me this song. Don't forget to comment or send me songs that remind you of Mason & Isabelle so I can include it in the playlist! 

❀

The notion of time seemed to evaporate while we stayed here wrapped in each other's arms until I was able to feel his heartbeat slowly steady against me. My mind was swamped with new information, traveling at such a high speed it felt nearly impossible to grasp onto.

But one thing I knew despite all the chaos was that I would never let anyone hurt him ever again.

He may never be mine, but I'll try and protect him, keep him safe from the darkness just the same.

So I hold onto him, tightly, giving him every ounce of reassurance because I know that's what he needs. And when the tears have dried upon my skin, the coldness I felt earlier from his touch had turned warm again igniting every fiber in my body as it used to, I grabbed onto his hand and helped him up.

We both walk silently as I lead him towards his bedroom and guide him onto the bed. My subconscious reminds me that it may be best to leave him be, let him sleep and let the new day give us a fresh start in the morning, but I shove her into the back of my mind and crawl into bed beside him.

He stays quiet for a few minutes, eyes straight up towards the ceiling and looking off into his own world. I turn on my side, watching him lie beside me in silence until I grow impatient, reaching my hand out to rest along his cheek and turn his head toward me.

His body turns with my movements until we're face to face with each other. Those eyes of his that were burning holes into the ceiling now burning into my own.

"Say something." I whisper to him, my hands still placed on his cheek.

His eyebrows crease, watching my face as if he's trying to read what I'm thinking in front of him. The fragile feeling I felt with us outside on the balcony is back; the two of us sneaking in gentle touches of each other, whispering as though we aren't the only ones here.

He's still hurting from what happened moments ago, I can see it.

"What?"

"I don't know..." I begin, leaning in a bit closer to him until he slings one of his arms over my waist, humming to himself over how content my touch is making him. "Anything. Tell me what you're thinking."

I chew on my lip, feeling silly over my demands but I can't help but wonder what's going on in that head of his. I'm starting to realize how I lose all rationality when it comes to him, he clouds every single one of my thoughts and no matter how much he gives me I always find myself wanting more.

More of his touches, more kisses, more of him.

He rolls his lips into his mouth, eyes firmly on mine, "I'm thinking about something you said to me earlier."

I sigh, "Whatever it was just erase it from your memory completely. I was angry with you... Let's just forget it ever happened, okay?" His eyes move swiftly off mine and I lean in a bit more, close enough so his breath is fanning the tip of my nose, "Just... be here with me."

His mind still seems lost somewhere else, and as the two of us hold each other close I can almost visually see the words threatening to break free from his lips. It's almost as if he's contemplating talking to me about whatever's on his mind; debating if he should let his words fall free from his mouth, or enjoy this moment with me instead.

"I can't." He breathes out, and my smile falters.

I never thought I'd see the day Mason would want to openly talk about something that's bothering him with me. But I know I can't take it for granted, I'm grateful for this, it's what I've been wanting all along.

"Alright." I give in, "What is it?"

His fingers slip between the fabric of my shirt, the calloused hands of his tracing random patterns along the soft skin of my lower back and I nearly shiver from his touch.

"When I told you that life wasn't fair you agreed with me... You said you've been trying to tell me something this entire time and I haven't been listening. What'd you mean by that?" The full weight of his words land on my chest and I force myself to fight off the impending wave of self consciousness encircling my body. My hands move themselves off Mason's face, and he takes note of my reaction. "I'll listen. Just as you did for me, you'll have my full attention."

I'm not sure why I'm suddenly feeling so diffident on telling Mason the truth. After what happened today he could request the key to my heart and I'd gladly give it to him. But when it comes to letting someone in, giving them permission to see the darkest- ugliest -parts of you, I doubt that's something I'll ever be ready to face.

I trust him.

I know he'd listen to every word I have to say, and I'm almost one hundred percent positive that he'd know exactly what to say to me to make it all better, but for some reason I can't get myself to open my mouth.

I had planned a thousand different versions of this scene in my head, but now that the moment is here, I don't know what to do.

The walls that were once blocking him from me have slowly molded themselves onto my body, giving me a new foreign guarded feeling I'm not familiar with.

"Is it a secret?" His whispered words break me out of my thoughts, the fingers along my back now tracing the notches of my spine.

"What? No." I shake my head at him, breathing heavily out of my nose and knowing that I have to push through my own emotions shielding me from being honest with him.

When my father died, I never really got the chance to tell anyone myself besides Natalie and Jessica since most of the town had heard of the news. And thankfully, the two of them let me talk when I was ready, which coincidentally wasn't very often since I'm so reluctant to tell people how I'm feeling.

I sort of just... shut down.

Within four days of his death I had heard about a thousand different versions of the story in the school halls.

And since both my parents left me I had to figure out on my own how I was going to heal myself. But as much as I hate to admit it, a part of me is still trying to figure it out.

My eyes trail slowly back up to his again, finding him waiting patiently for my response. My nerves stir in my belly as he pushes himself up into a sitting position, leaning back against the headboard and giving me his full attention as promised. I shift my body so I'm lying on my back beside him, looking straight up to meet nothing but those green eyes staring back at me.

The Mason I have urged myself so greatly to forget gave me all the reasons to stay away. But this Mason, here resting with me in the dark shadows of his bedroom, the four walls we're in so quiet you could hear a pin drop onto the floor makes me feel so breathtakingly close to him in a way I've never felt before.

This time there's nothing in between us, there's no reason for me not to be honest with him.

I clear my throat, trying to clear my anxiety along with it.

"My father was driving home from work one night when someone with too much to drink drove past a red light and hit him... His car flipped...and he uh, he severed his spine and broke his neck." I look away from him, already feeling the tears along the brim of my eyes and I try to blink them away, "He died. Just like that."

It takes me a few seconds to look back up at him, and when I do he's staring blankly at me, looking at a loss for words until a small little frown forms along his lips, leaving my heart to thump even more erratically against my ribcage.

"Come here."

"I-"

"Just come here, Isabelle. Let me hold you."

I hesitate, wondering if I imagined the words that just came out of his mouth. The overbearing amount of anxiety curling in my gut is replaced with something softer, warmer, lighter.

I lift his thick comforter off of me, watching him with hesitant eyes as I move toward his body. The impatience in him that I have found myself missing comes out, forcing him to take matters into his own hands and grab onto waist. I nearly fall into his lap, a bit startled by his eagerness to have me in his arms again but once I see the look on his face I know it's only because he doesn't know what else to do.

When we were outside and he let me into the memories he had tried to keep hidden for so long, I held him. And even though his body was still shaking, the nerves radiating off his body in waves, my touch helped him.

And now he's trying to use those same tactics to help me.

I'm completely drunk with it- with him, everything about him.

"When did this happen?"

As my legs straddle his hips I instinctively push myself closer to him and he keeps me smothered tight. My head settles into the crook of his neck so I'm able to breath him in and when I whisper for him to hold me tighter he does.

"Three months after you left." Tighter, " I remember it like it was yesterday. Nora- my mom- and I stayed up late baking cookies from scratch. They were these red velvet cookies with white chocolate chips in them, and cream cheese filling inside- his favorites." Talking about the memory out loud brings an unwelcome amount of sadness into my heart.

That was the last happy memory Nora and I shared.

I didn't even know it at the time, there was no way for me to.

I squirm a little in his grasp and he holds me tighter, "But he was late... and he was never late. Then there were the lights. The red and blue flashing lights outside my house. Right when I opened the door and they asked for my mother I knew something was wrong."

The day is still vivid in my memory. I had just gotten out of the shower and hurriedly went downstairs to try and steal a cookie before my father came home. I saw the police car pull up to the house and I mentally begged for my mind to be playing tricks on me- that this couldn't be happening.

And when they rang the doorbell it was almost like they didn't even have to deliver the news for me to know.

The house felt different, colder, and I knew.

He was gone.

And when I called Nora after the officer asked me where my mother was, and after being dismissed by her, told to go upstairs to my room I unwillingly walked away. Disobeying her orders, I sat down onto the stairs, their conversation was too low, a whisper more like.

But then there were the screams.

The gut wrenching sounds of my mother falling onto her knees, crying in complete devastation, shrieking 'no no no'.

My vision blurs with tears from under him, and I grow thankful over the fact that he can't see me.

"And after that night everything changed... On the day of my father's funeral my mother left me."

"What do you mean she left you?" I can hear the confusion laced in his voice and I fingers float along his collarbone while he holds me by my hips.

I nuzzle my head a bit more into his neck, trying to ignore the uneasiness burning into me.

"I mean she packed her bags, took my college money and disappeared." I answer simply.

"She stole from you?" Anger rises in his voice, that protective side of his coming out and my mind searches for answers on how to get past this topic.

"She came back at the beginning of the summer. That's why I was staying here. I couldn't face her..." Who am I kidding, "I still can't."

His touch grows on me, making me more comfortable then I had been before, and without a second thought my fingers trail downwards, finding the hem of his shirt and tucking themselves onto the other side of it. They roam along the planes of his chest, wanting to just feel the warmth of his bare skin on mine again.

I hear the hum travel up from the back of his throat, but he doesn't take it any further and I'm glad.

After a few moments he speaks again, "Has she taken anything else from you?"

"No, but I'd be lying if I said I didn't hide my jewelry." I added a short laugh at the end to soften the effect, try and make light of the situation but all he does is huff a breath out of his nose.

He isn't amused.

I let myself go on, my voice gentle and slow, "I know how it feels to lose someone... To not know where they are, to worry about them every minute of every day." His body stiffens slightly against my own, "It's something that can tear you apart from the inside out if you let it."

There's a long stretch of silence before he murmurs against my scalp, "And did you?" I draw my eyebrows closer together, confused and forgetting he can't see me. My fingers slip out from under his shirt and I use my hands to push myself slightly backwards so I'm able to see his face. He takes in the small tear prints along my cheeks before finishing, "Let it."

His tone is empty, unfeeling, but I don't hesitate to give him the truth.

"At times." The corners of his lips tug a bit downwards and I pout is placed along them, and I know his reaction isn't for him, it's for me.

It's the same as I felt earlier, hearing about the pain he'd gone through and knowing that I'd do anything in my power to keep him from it.

I can see it in his eyes.

I go on, thinking out loud at this point, "Death is such a strange thing. One minute they're here- alive- and the next they're just... gone... forever." He leans in, planting a kiss onto my shoulder, "And even though they were such a big part of your life, you're whole life, you're just supposed to move on. But it never happens, you don't just move on from death. The whole in your heart will forever be there it just gets... easier with time."

A tear falls from my cheek and I quickly wipe it away.

Throughout the years without him I've never moved on, there's days when I almost feel it happening, and then there are the days when it hits me all over again and the word around me starts crumbling to pieces.

There are worse days than others; the holidays, birthdays, special moments that occur in my life where I really just need my dad for.

And then there are the moments I know that I'll never be able to have with him; him walking me down the aisle at my wedding, meeting my kids for the first time, seeing me grow up to be the person he'd be proud of.

Whenever that reality hits me, it feels almost impossible to shake.

"I've mentioned your parents before, how come you never said anything?" He asks me, no judgment in his tone whatsoever and I let out a heavy sigh.

"I don't know." I shrug, and he looks at me like he's not going to accept that for an answer. "You were the only one in my life who still saw me as that naive little girl with the perfect family, perfect life, I guess I didn't want that to change." I give him only half of the truth since the other part of that answer is plainly just because I didn't trust him at the time.

He looks at me, almost dumbfounded by my words.

"You thought I'd look at you differently?"

The ashamed feeling I felt before has crawled back into my skin, "Don't you?"

The facial expression contorted on his face resembles disbelief in every aspect: the furrowed brows, parted mouth, widened eyes- he looks completely appalled.

He stares at me, and I stare at him, the only sound I'm able to hear is my heart beating so loudly into my chest as I watch him bring his hand up to my face and tuck a few strands of my hair behind my ear.

"After all this time you still question how I see you?" He whispers, keeping his gaze locked onto me and my stomach flutters, my eyes betraying me from the tears falling free from them. "You don't have to hide from me, not about anything."

Those words of his sound familiar, he's said that to me before, that I don't need to 'hide' from him. At first I thought he was only talking about covering up my body whenever I felt nervous around him, but now I know the much greater meaning behind them.

I don't need to hide.

My eyes sting, my throat scratchy from the tears breaking through. I laugh a tiny little croaking laugh and I shake my head, embarrassed from not being able to stop crying. I don't let myself cry in front of many people, but right now he's just making it so easy.

"S'okay, baby." He reassures me, one arm still slung around my waist while the other attempts at wiping the tears from my cheeks, and I look at him in awe. "Tell me about him."

My body freezes, "What? You knew my father, Mason." I say to him, my voice coming off a little more combative then I want it to.

I suck in some air, his hands finding themselves under my shirt again, smoothing up and down my back.

"I have my own memories of him, yes." He leans in closer, his eyes twinkling at the sight of me in front of him, even if it's a snotty and tear stained, "But I want to hear yours."

I should feel flattered, pleased by his words and the sincerity of his voice, but all I feel is a substantial amount of ache in my bones, threatening to pull me under all over again.

I want to talk about him; to revel in my own memories of him and relive them with someone I truly care about. But how will I be able to? I can't remember the last time I've talked about my father in that way- like he's still here.

When he died I stored all memories of him in a safe space in my mind, a place I've left untouched and untarnished for years.

I swallow thickly, running a hand through my hair, trying to ease the tension in my body.

"It's getting late." I so poorly excuse, "Maybe I should just go."

His grip on me tightens, restricting me from moving an inch off of him and my mind frantically roams with ideas on how I'm going to get out of this.

"Go? Why?" Mason's eyes search my face, looking to detect for any falsity behind what I'll say next.

That sparkle in those light green eyes of his has vanished, the dark thick eyebrows of his knitted together and I pry my eyes away from looking any further.

"You look exhausted, it's almost four in the morning. You should sleep." I try to sound as genuine as I possibly can, but when I attempt to crawl off his lap he moves me back into place, forbidding me to.

"Don't."

"Mason, I-"

"I want you to stay tonight." He interrupts me, his voice so gruff and soft, "Will you?"

Warmth spreads beneath my skin, almost urging me to stay but I can't.

He looks tired, so, so tired.

His eyelids are sagging heavily, eyes still a faint shade of red, the busted lip he got from earlier has dried while the darkened blotches he got from the fight have almost seemed to have gotten worse.

But I know if I stay he won't get the sleep he needs.

"You need to sleep, Mason." I say, a little more firmly.

"And I will." I look at him confused, "With you."

His voice was a hushed whisper but his expression was anxious, watching me to see how I'd react to it. The reaction I so inconveniently give is my eyebrows nearly shooting off my head.

So much for being subtle.

It takes me a moment to process what he just said, the embarrassment I feel tinting my cheeks a shade or two darker worsening from the flirtatious smile displayed along his lips.

"With me?" I cluelessly ask.

The eternally pragmatic corner of my mind wonders if he would really sleep beside me, but after tonight I believe it just might be possible.

I can feel Mason's hesitation and can visibly see how hard he's trying to fight it off. I keep my gaze fixated on him, those beautiful green eyes of his filled with a complexity I couldn't even begin to fathom.

My heart quickens, "If you'll have me."

A weird combination of excitement and nervousness tingles through me. Brief silence hangs over us giving me enough time to notice the consternation in his expression, reminding me just how big of a step this is for him. I grow doubtful over it- such a simple request.

But with the night we've shared I contemplate what all of this really means for him.

It's almost enough to ward me off until he takes my hand, running his finger along my palm before intertwining with my own fingers.

All the while waiting for my response.

"Stay." He pleads, bringing my hand up towards his lips and placing a gentle kiss along my knuckles. "Stay with me."

Despite the flush along my skin and the chill creeping down my spine, my skin is on fire, burning at the touch of him. Every cell in my body starts tingling, humming at the mere perplexity of my feelings towards the man in front of me.

I'm not even aware of the fact that I've nodded, agreeing to his wishes until the ends of his lips curl up into a grin and I feel him push his hands further into my back, pressing me up against him so that his nose just barely touches the side of mine.

I'm smiling like an idiot, I know I am. Even with all the dried up tears staining my cheeks and the heavy amount of mucus still threatening to make an appearance out from my nose.

His index finger finds the end of a few strands of my hair, mindlessly twirling it around while his eyes remain on mine.

"Now go on, tell me about him." He insists, "I want to hear all about the man that gave me you."

❀

I got lost in how much time was spent telling Mason old stories about my father. When he originally asked me to talk about him, I felt so reluctant to do it. I think I was scared to let anyone else see the memories I saved for him- like they were mine only, my prized possession.

But right when I got to talking I couldn't stop.

There were laughs shared between us both, I watched as Mason nodded along, looking genuinely intrigued in what I had to say, and whenever I thought our conversation was coming to an end he'd ask me even more questions.

Then there were tears- too many for me to count.

He held me tightly, whispering sweet things into my ear and kissing all the tears along my cheeks away as I foolishly let myself become embarrassed over the whole situation.

And no matter how many times I apologized for being such a crybaby he would just wipe the tears away and calmly tell me to shut the fuck up.

Resulting in the two of us going back to laughing, giving me no other option but to forget the situation altogether.

I half woke during the night, finding that our bodies had migrated together.

I lied on my back, his head resting against my chest so I wasn't able to see his face. His large arms wrapped around my body, his grip on me possessive even in sleep. I circled my arms around him, hugging him closer to me and he made a soft pleased humming noise before pressing against me closer.

And I knew without a doubt in my mind that I could get used to this.

❀

I don't know how much time passes after I drift off to sleep again when I'm startled awake from Mason jumping up abruptly beside me, his force so strong it rocks me in bed.

I can hear it before I can see it.

And right when I hear it I snap my eyes open, the drowsiness dissipated by the unfamiliarity of the situation while anxiety and fear courses through my body, squeezing my vocal cords restricting me from saying anything.

I don't know what to say.

I don't know how to handle this.

I flail upright in the darkness, my pulse stuttering as Mason sits beside me, gasping for air like all the oxygen in this room has suddenly vanished.

He brings his palm up, holding it to his chest shiny with sweat.

He can't breathe.

"Mason..." I reach my arm out to touch him but he moves away so quickly he stumbles out of the bed, hitting the floor with a loud thud and kneeling down, choking on the lack of air.

I scramble out of bed and bend down onto the floor beside him, my stomach lurching at Mason struggling to take something simple as a breath right in front of me.

Terror flashes in his wide eyes, and through them I can see a drowning man struggling to get to the surface.

I reach my hand back up tentatively, blinking through the moisture and he recoils, grimacing and looking at me with nothing but hatred in his eyes. Physical pain shoots through me when he starts to speak, hyperventilating so rapidly he can barely get the words out.

"No!" Seconds tick by as he struggles to find his voice through the gasps for breath, "I-I've been good... No... don't-don't hurt me!"

He doesn't know it's me.

I don't know what to do, how to help him. There's so many emotions hitting me like a ton of bricks; I feel sick to my stomach over how much pain he's in, the agony climbing out his throat apparent in his words. Fear, but not for me, for the time I know I'm wasting and what's to come next if I don't figure out a plan, all while the desperation to coax him back to me is strong enough to break me completely.

I go with my instincts, reaching my hand out to touch him once more in hope that it'll bring him back to me like it always does.

"Mason, it's me... Isabelle." I speak as soft as possible, my hand shaking, moving at such a slow pace to reach over to him, "I won't hurt you. I'd never hurt you."

My palm touches his face and heat stings my fingertips, his eyes watching my every move.

"It's Isabelle." My eyes bore into his, searching for the Mason that I know is there. I swallow, "Come back to me."

I stroke his cheek with my fingers, using the lightest touches so he doesn't move away from me. His heavy breaths are starting to steady slowly in front of me, but I still don't think he registers that I'm even here.

He's looking right through me as I trace my fingers over his cheekbone, leaving a faint trail with the moisture on his skin.

I build the courage to get closer to him, pressing my forehead against him and willing him back to life through my touches.

"Come back to me." My strangled voice comes out like a plea, closing my eyes for a few moments before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss against the corner of his lips. I do the same thing on the other side of his mouth while he watches me with guarded eyes.

And then I do it over and over again, planting gentle kisses along his face, melting the mask that had got a hold of him again.

I move myself back a little to see if there's any change and the stone cold eyes of his have turned warm.

But he's still not here.

"Come back to me, baby." I whisper, a tear falling from my eyes before I do the one thing that comes naturally when it comes to him.

I stretch my neck out and kiss him, eagerly wanting to ease the pain weighing down on his lungs. A few seconds pass, and just when I think I've failed I feel his hands hold the nape of my neck. I whimper in relief when he brings me closer to him, moving his lips with mine achingly slow.

His lips still feel swollen from the fight he had gotten into earlier, I imagine it hurts like hell but he doesn't let it show.

He's here, he came back to me.

I pull back and he lets out a sigh of relief, his eyes still closed while his hoarse voice whispers, "Isabelle."

He opens his eyes, staring at me warily, searching every inch of my face in front of him. His body is still slumped, muscles trembling, the tangled locks of his hair pasted onto his damp skin, but he's here.

"Did I hurt you?"

I shake my head vigorously, "No, no."

Another sigh of relief leaves his lips and I tuck my face into the side of his neck, resting my head onto his shoulder. Instantaneously, he wraps his arms around my waist, nuzzling his face against me.

"I'm sorry." He whispers to me, and I hold him tighter, "I'm so sorry."

❀

A.N//

Ahhhhh thank you so much for the 200k! I can't believe it. Please let me know how you guys found my story, and your thoughts on it so far! Thank you for everything.

-yourunknownteen