The sound of my car screeching to a stop in front of Jessica's house silences all of the rambling thoughts piling up in my head. I barely remember running back inside the restaurant and telling Aiden I had to go, I forget the excuse I told him and I'm not quite sure how I even managed to get back to my car and drive over here as quickly as I did.

It all happened so fast.

And since I've gotten that call I swear every minute that goes by makes it harder and harder for me to breathe.

'It's Mason. Something happened.'

It was vague; 'something happened'. It could have meant millions of things, and each reason I scrounge up in my mind is worse than the last.

The burning, wallowing pit in my stomach is growing at such a fast pace I'm afraid it'll swallow me whole.

Is he hurt? Did he get in trouble?

Fuck.

Breathe, Isabelle.

I look out the side window to see if I can spot Jessica's car anywhere, and the weight on my chest adds ten pounds when I can't find it. Fuck, I shouldn't have let him leave. I knew he wasn't in a good place, I never should have let him walk away from me as angry as he was.

I thought I knew him, the person he was and the changed person he's become, but three hours ago proved just how wrong I really was on the subject of him. I never realized how little I actually know about Mason until seeing him- the real him- the broken, beaten and damaged him.

The two of us are playing a dangerous game, we have been since our first night in the garage at the party. We're so different; he has the power to get on nerves I didn't even know were there, he makes me second guess every single one of my actions, and sometimes I can feel myself actually start to lose my mind.

But being apart from him, knowing that he's out there somewhere, possibly hurt or worse, is threatening the tethered string between the two of us to almost ring around my neck, suffocating me and making it harder to breathe or think clearly.

I had hoped that we could have fixed that broken bridge separating us from letting each other in. I wanted to talk, to work things out and give him that side of myself I've been longing to, but I never would have opened my mouth if I had known it would come to this.

My fingers toy with each other until they start to pick at my cuticles while my eyes dart down to my phone resting on top of my lap. I impatiently tap on the glass, the only thing being reflected off the screen is the time, 8:02 p.m

Breathe, Isabelle.

The small techniques I use to slow down my breathing is interrupted when I see the two blinding lights blazing behind me, piercing through the darkness. And just like that, my nerves are set on fire again.

He's here.

There's a mixture of emotions drowning inside of me as my feet instantly jump out of my car and over to Jessica's. I feel nauseous, an overwhelming, sickening amount of qualms that he doesn't want me here because of what happened the last time we were together. I feel worry, doubt, an overbearing weight that I won't be able to conceal my feelings in front of either of them.

And then there's the burning, fluttering feeling inside my chest that he's here now.

And even though my breaths are labored, exhausted and heavy to execute, I find it easier to breathe again.

"What happened?" I hear myself asking, trying to keep it as calm as I possibly can but right when the words leave my mouth I know I have failed.

Jessica steps out of her car, her long brown colored hair swaying from the cold wind whipping around us and it doesn't take long for me to notice her tear stained cheeks.

Oh no.

"Where is he?" I ask, a little more frantically as I look around and notice his dark figure in the passenger seat of the car.

"He's in the front." She says to me and within an instant I'm circling around the car, the burning pit in my stomach exemplifying with each step I take.

I mentally prepare myself for what I'm about to see as my hand grabs onto the door handle and pulls it open.

I stand there, unable to move or process the sight of him in front of me. I had my expectations on what might have happened, I knew he had probably been hurt one way or another but seeing in person brings an entirely new amount of aching into my chest, squeezing at my heart and burning all the way down my spine.

"Mason?" My strangled whisper is barely audible as I take in the man before my eyes.

He remained strapped into the passenger seat with the seatbelt that I know Jessica must have had to have put on herself. His head is bowed, shoulders slightly slumped over and barely holding him up, body looking limp, tired and weak.

I ignore the ache in my bones urging me to lift his head up, bring his eyes to mine and try to coax him back to me in front of Jessica.

There's this vulnerability to him in front of me that puts an odd taste in my mouth, making me feel sick with worry.

One thing I immediately notice are the red swollen cuts marring on his knuckles, his busted lip that's still bleeding, the prominent red markings on his face, indicating something I should have figured out on my own. His eyes are closed, body almost looking lifeless and my stomach turns, unable to make sense of it all.

"Some guy called me, telling me he had been in some bar fight." Jessica begins and as I try to put the pieces together my thoughts go to Freddie and how he must have been there with him. I don't take my eyes off of Mason as she continues, "By the time I got there, I found him slumped on the floor in the corner of the room, completely fucking wasted."

I swallow thickly, my mind finding it difficult to process all of this. I have seen Mason fight before, he took both Felix and Isaac like it had been the easiest thing to him. From what he told me earlier today, he seemed to have gone through a lot of training while he did underground fighting in Seattle. But as I stand here, my eyes roaming over every cut and bruise on his body, it's hard for me to imagine that he couldn't take on a half drunken man in a bar.

And then it hits me... He did this on purpose.

Oh God, this is all my fault.

I blink away the tears, tearing my eyes from him before I watch Jessica dig into her front pocket.

"And then I found this in his jacket pocket." She says, holding up a small clear dime bag filled with multiple white pills. My eyes narrow in on the substances, wondering what they are exactly. "They're Percocets." Jessica says, reading my mind.

Percocets.

My stomach turns at a fast speed and the nausea I felt moments ago resurfaces, threatening to break through. I knew Mason does drugs, I knew the moment I saw the coke in his room. But I never imagined opioids.

"D-do you think he'll be okay?" I hear Jessica's voice in the background breaking me out from my trance.

My eyes flick over to hers, and I can see the way she's trying to hold back her tears. Her gaze shifts between Mason and I, and I just stand there, completely incoherently stuck on what to do next. I have to breathe; take a deep breath and ignore the pain clawing its way into my chest.

She needs me right now, they both do.

But as I take a moment to think about how to respond to her question, it occurs to me that maybe Mason has ever really been 'okay' at all.

I swallow, "Come on, let's get him inside."

She nods, and I quickly lean inside of her car and unclip his seatbelt. It takes longer than I expected it would to sling his arms over both our shoulders, but once we do his head goes back down and his feet drag against the concrete below us as we try to haul him inside.

I struggle a bit, using all the strength in my body I can muster to keep myself from dropping him while he murmurs a few jumbled words in between us. The warmth I usually feel from his body has gone away, while my fingers stay lingered behind his back trying to keep him up, the only thing I feel is a withdrawn coldness.

As we make our way toward the front door, Jessica nearly fumbles her keys before putting them in and opening it. While she does so I can't help but look over at him, keeping my mouth locked from saying anything in front of Jessica I know I'll regret.

I try to will his eyes to look up at me, do any sort of motion for me to steady my rapid heartbeat but he doesn't. Instead, his head remains low, eyes closed and mouth slurring unintelligible words near my ear.

"Shit, this man is fucking heavy." Jessica groans, opening the front door wide enough for us both to walk through. "Come on, let's get him to the bathroom."

She continues walking and I follow suit, starting to feel my shoulders start to burn from the added pressure, and somehow I manage to not drop the 6'4 man wrapped up in my arms while we carry him over to the bathroom.

Jessica opens the door and quickly turns on the light. I follow her actions and walk towards the toilet towards the end of the bathroom. She opens up the lid, and we both carefully place him on the floor. I make sure to lift his head up so it doesn't droop down into the toilet, and rest it against his shoulder.

I lift myself back up, staring at the man in front of me with nothing but hopelessness in my eyes. I know I shouldn't let this drunken state of his get to me, but the unnerving fact is that I care about him, and I can't take it back no matter how much I wish I could.

"I'm sorry for calling you. I know you had a date tonight." Jessica sighs heavily right beside me, covering her face with her hands and shaking her head. "I don't know why I did, I mean I should be used to this shit by now."

She drops her hands from her face before raising one back up again and running it through her hair. My eyes narrow into her, confused on what she just said.

"Why would you be used to this?"

Her eyes slowly meet mine again, almost looking ashamed in what she's about to say next and I swallow my apprehension as I wait for her answer.

"He comes home like this almost every night."

My stomach drops to my feet and I feel an overwhelming amount of panic that he does this to hurt himself. My eyes bounce back over to him, and through all the emotions I feel I realize that this is what's behind the mask he has been so persistent on keeping hidden from me.

"Since when?"

"Uh," She takes a moment to think, "I think it was around the time you left."

And then the feeling that I have grown accustomed to all summer comes pouring back into me: Guilt.

I know I wasn't the one to personally hand him the bottle, or the drugs, but maybe if I were here I could have seen the signs. I could have helped him, stopped it from becoming worse, growing a habit out of it.

I purse my lips and remind myself that I can take these blows- I can handle it. Finding out more about him was what I wanted, and seeing him tonight has opened my eyes far greater than I imagined it would. But seeing him like this however, is a different kind of pain.

I shouldn't care

Not after everything that happened today, not after the screaming, and the broken glass, the blood and the malicious words exchanged.

I shouldn't care

But I do.

Fuck, I do.

I want to get the hell out of this claustrophobic bathroom and run away from him while I have the chance, but I know if I do I'll be too paralyzed with worry. The desperation to bring him out of this scares me. But the mixed emotions I'm starting to feel about it all scares me even more.

I have the urge to touch him, wrap myself around him, and soothe all the pain away but the idea of that is hazardous- too high risk to carry out.

I'm uncharacteristically at a loss for words, the only thing that manages to come out of my mouth is, "Why didn't you tell me?"

I know I shouldn't be looking for this kind of answer right now but I can't bear the thought of them both going through this alone. Jessica staying up to take care of Mason numerous times throughout the week is something I never saw happening.

Right when she opens her mouth to speak we're interrupted by the sound of Mason hurling all the contents in his stomach. Without a second thought I drop down onto my knees on the floor and place a gentle hand on his back, rubbing it in circles to let him know I'm here.

"I thought I could handle it, it's never been this bad." I hear Jessica say, and I lift my head up to her, still maintaining the soft movements on his back.

"It's okay, Jess it's not your fault." I reassure her, "I'm sorry you had to go through all of this alone, I know how hard that must have been for you."

She rolls her eyes playfully, "I swear if Mason makes it through the night I'm going to kill him in the morning."

I let out a quiet laugh, breaking the tension in the air so we're both able to breathe again. Her body relaxes, letting herself adjust to her deflated nerves until the sound of Mason heaving, trying to get the intoxicants out of his body vibrates throughout the room.

I give into my temptations, brushing his hair off of his forehead before subconsciously raking my fingers through. I notice him fight to open his eyes, as if he knows it's me touching him.

The last time I did a few hours ago he recoiled, moved away from my touch as if it had burned him because he felt like he didn't deserve it, and now there's a voice in my head telling me it's the only thing he needs right now.

"I'll go get him some water, and bread or some shit." Jessica says to me, and I remove my hand from his hair, standing up and walking over to the sink.

"I'll stay with him."

She gives me a nod, doing one more double take of Mason before walking out the bathroom door. I retrieve a clean washcloth from one of the drawers under the sink and place it under the faucet. After running cold water over it for a few seconds and squeezing some of the excess water out, I make my way back over to Mason, sitting right beside him on the floor.

I fold the washcloth, my arms raise, lifting up towards his forehead and press it along his sweaty skin. He hums, his eyes blinking a few times before slowly opening, not too much but just enough for me to see the misery swirling around in them.

I remain like this, cooling off his skin while he takes in the sight of me in front of him.

His eyes flutter while he exhales out a breath, looking lost in his head more than usual. I let my gaze flicker to his own, noting the fatigue tightening on his body.

But still despite that, I almost catch a glimpse of his lips curving upwards right before he sluggishly lifts his arm up until his calloused hand is placed right on my cheek.

"Isabelle." He slurs hoarsely, fighting through the weariness and exhaustion and I lean into his touch, already finding it easier to breathe again.

I see him relax under my touch, while the warmth of his skin floods through my entire body. Even despite these circumstances, one touch from him and all my worries are drowned, sunken into the floor below us leaving nothing but me and him.

There's something he's fighting back from saying, I can see it. The thick wall of a barrier is keeping him from doing so, making me want to just crawl into his mind and tear it apart brick by brick.

His eyelids sag heavily, guarding himself from showing any emotion, and I lean in closer to him, pressing the damp washcloth against his skin and telling him the words I'll repeat until it either sticks, or I lose my voice telling him.

"I'm here Mason, I'm here."

❀

I don't remember how much time was spent making sure Mason doesn't aspirate on his own vomit.

But however much it was, it took everything not to hold him close to me.

It took a while to get him to open his mouth wide enough to try and stuff some bread inside, and after a few laborious tries we switched to crackers. He started to look a lot better once we got him to drink water, practically shoving it down his throat.

I remember wiping the vomit off the corners of his lips, changing him into a new shirt after some got on it, and nearly forcing the mouthwash into his mouth to rid the acids on his teeth.

I felt unqualified for the job, sure there's been nights where I would be holding Jessica's hair over the toilet, but seeing Mason like this made me feel too small for the task.

At one point I remember holding his face in my hands, giving him no other choice but to look at me and see the pain seeing him like this is causing me. At first I was afraid to look into his eyes to see the dark, hollow man looking back at me.

It was agonizing.

My thoughts confused me, I wanted to slap him for being so careless while also wanting to hold him and never let him go at the same time.

One other thing I don't remember is falling asleep, not until I'm awakened from hitting my head on something hard.

I groan, placing my hand on the top of my forehead and rubbing down on the pain, trying to ease the pressure. My eyes slowly open, adjusting to everything around me until I realize that I'm lying on the tiled bathroom floor about an inch or two away from the bathtub.

I take a moment to let my mind gather my thoughts, the memories of tonight coming back to me in pieces. My thumb and forefinger try their hardest to rid the exhaustion out of my eyes but once I fully take in my surroundings all the weariness in me evaporates and I immediately dart my gaze over to the toilet.

He's gone.

I place my hands on the cold tile, sitting myself up and ignoring the slight ache in my bones from my choice of slumber surface. Panic settles itself deep in my chest, where would he go?

The soft snores I hear from beside me draws my attention away for a moment to find Jessica lying in the bathtub, her arm draping down the side, other across her chest while her head rests against the rim, mouth parted open slightly, chest slowly rising and falling down deep in sleep.

I can't help but wonder if I should wake her, but I know she's been through enough for tonight, and she needs her sleep. So I lift myself up, take a deep breath and walk out of the bathroom, closing the door as soft as I possibly can behind me.

My mind wanders to all the places he can be, I know I'm out of my league with this. He can be anywhere, and if there's one thing I know about Mason it's that if he wants to be left alone, he'll make sure he gets just that.

Maybe I should take this opportunity to go home. Leave this night just how it ended, and not bring more of this mess upon myself.

But just like I felt earlier, if I were to leave now I know my thoughts and fears will overwhelm me; consume my worn thoughts and leave me second guessing why I ever left in the first place.

"Mason?" I ask the silence around me, leaving me yet again unanswered as I walk up the stairs to the second floor of the house.

My patience runs low when I peer into his room, finding it empty and knowing that he was never here to begin with.

After I close his bedroom door, mentally shaming myself for the disappointment I feel my eyes catch something across from me. I could have almost missed it with all the darkness outside, but right when my gaze stops on the silhouette on the other side of the glass I know without a doubt in my mind that it's him.

He never left.

I stand here for a moment, contemplating my next move, but before I have a chance to stop myself my feet are carrying me over to the balcony right at the end of the hallway. I steady my breathing, unsure whether or not I'm making the right call, but right when my hands circle against the door handle I know it's too late to turn back.

When I pull the door open I'm greeted by the cold crisp air, tinted with a faint tobacco smell, signalling to me he just smoked a cigarette. He doesn't move when I walk beside him, he just stays in place, seated down on the floor and overlooking the night sky in front of us.

He looks devastated and exhausted, his hair is tousled, darkness shadowing every feature on his face, his soul beaten and broken.

I try to calm the warmth coursing through my veins at the mere sight of him as I bend myself down until I'm seated on the floor right next to him.

And before I know it, I'm seeking salvation in the darkness with nothing but the black of night hovering over us.