by A. M. Rose
“Wha—” he tried, but words got stuck in his throat, and he slumped down to the top step, resting his aching head onto the railing. He was so tired.
“He seemed in a hurry,” Darian’s voice drifted up, and Drew looked at the man, eyes wide and confused. “What happened?”
“He just…” Drew started again, shaking his head when another sentence refused to come out, and he finished it by miming Mason leaving with a gentle swoop of his hand. Darian gave him a soft smile and walked up the stairs, filling up the remaining space next to him with his wide shoulders.
“He has a lot on his mind,” he said, and Drew dropped his head onto his knees.
“I have no idea what’s on his mind,” he said, and it sounded so whiny and desperate, but he was beyond caring at this point.
“Well, usually the easiest way to find out what’s on someone’s mind is to ask,” the older man said.
Drew huffed. “That doesn’t really work with Mason. He’s like a safe.”
“Most people are when it comes to their hearts.” Darian patted his back, and Drew groaned between his knees, not even questioning how the healer knew. He wouldn’t be surprised if he could feel it in every fiber of his body.
“I’m not planning on breaking his heart, dammit,” he said, peeling his head away from his knees and pleading with him to understand. He felt like it would all be better if at least one person believed him he was ready to fight for Mason.
“That’s good. It’s nice that you know that. Does he?” Drew wondered how the man managed to say something like that without sounding condescending at all.
“What?”
“Does he know his heart is safe with you?” Darian asked simply and Drew paused.
He thought back to every moment they had spent together since he came back. Mason never allowed them to talk about a potential future together. And Drew had felt so guilty he just accepted what he gave him. He didn’t push and Mason didn’t ask. So much was left unsaid between them.
“I don’t… no… he doesn’t,” Drew said finally, and Darian hummed.
“Well… I think you know where to start, then,” he said, standing up and starting down the stairs. "Now come on. I need to check you over before I can let you go fight dragons and pick golden apples to win your prince."
"I'll be right there," Drew said, and Darian nodded before disappearing around the corner.
Drew stared after him for a moment, contemplating his advice before pulling out his phone and hitting call. The idea of waiting didn’t even occur to him, he was done running from things in his life.
He was sent to voicemail after three rings… meaning Mason had rejected the call. He pulled the phone away and opened their messaging chat.
Drew: Sorry. I know you’re driving. Call me back when you get home. We need to talk.
“Dammit, Mason,” Drew growled, throwing his phone onto the bed and flinging himself after it. His back thudded against the thick duvet and the little device hopped up into the air. The screen was still lit with the texts he had sent Mason in the past sixteen hours.
Texts that asked what happened, if he was okay, if he could please pick up, or at least, call back. All of them were left unanswered even though the little checkmark at the bottom said Mason had read them. He didn’t even give Drew the comfort of pretending he hadn’t.
It was driving him insane.
Everything Mason had done since he’d come back was giving him whiplash. From the scorching hot kisses one moment to the cold shoulder the next. And now this deafening silence that made Drew want to scream.
He grabbed for the phone again and called Mason for the thirtieth time since he got home yesterday. Like all the other times, it went to voicemail.
“Mason… I have no idea what happened, please… give me a call, and we can talk about whatever it is, okay? Just… please…” he whispered into the phone.
He was pretty sure the voicemail limit was about to be reached, but he knew he’d try again later. The enticing thought of simply turning up on the man’s doorstep creeped in, each rejection making it a little stronger, but he pushed it away. The invasion of privacy was too much, especially for Mason who had set barriers around him with neon signs and barbed wire.
There wasn’t much he could do but wait. As excruciating as that wait was.
He ended up outside on the porch swing at around lunch, going stir-crazy in his room. He was fiddling with the camera Mason had gifted him back, but not actually taking any pictures. Instead, he was looking at the ones he had previously taken that he’d managed to find someone to develop before they left on their road trip. About two thirds of them were candid shots of Mason himself.
He sighed, leaning his head back and contemplating the frosted cobweb in the corner of the porch roof. His dad had spelled the area when they were kids so that it was inviting to the eight-legged friends that helped keep the insects in check in the warmer months.
The ring of his phone made him snap his head back up, fumbling for the device and dropping it to the floor. He followed it down, answering breathlessly whilst still on his knees, “Mason?”
There was a brief silence. “Harry… From work?” the other said awkwardly.
Drew’s entire face erupted in flames. “Harry! Yes, sorry, I was… expecting a call from someone else… uh… is there anything wrong?”
“Right, yes, well I was calling on behalf of Mr. Lawson, he wanted me to check in with you while you were on medical leave. Get some updates,” Harry said.
It was a bitch slap from reality. He’d been so caught up in the Daydream bubble, he’d almost forgotten the outside world existed again. “Updates,” he repeated.
He had the sudden, inexplicable urge to lie.
The feeling knocked him from his knees down to his ass. Did he want to stay here that badly that he was willing to jeopardize his job… his whole life? He looked towards the camera on the swaying porch swing, Mason’s smiling face staring up at him from the printed pictures next to it.
Did it even compare? The life he had outside Daydream was empty. There was no denying that, no matter how much he tried to tell himself that a good life didn’t mean excitement and constant happiness and thrill. A good life was a steady one. A safe one. Pain free and magic free. That was his mantra for ages.
Life in Daydream wasn’t steady. It wasn’t safe or magic free. But it had Mason. Mason whose magic was nothing but gentle and caring around him. Mason whose smile made everything worthwhile. Mason who Drew had hurt so badly the walls he built around himself were almost impenetrable. He didn’t want to let Drew in. But Drew was catching glimpses of him through the little cracks in those walls.
And he was finally realizing he had something to fight for.
“Drew?” he heard Harry say and he snapped back to the conversation.
“Yeah?”
“Is everything okay? When can we expect you?” Harry asked, and the words were out before Drew even registered them.
“Tell Mr. Lawson I’ll be calling him tomorrow.”
Harry paused. “Regarding?”
“My resignation,” he said, and with that he ended the call, hands shaking and heart hammering in his chest, but…nothing had ever felt more right to him. Staying here instead of running. Fighting for Mason instead of allowing him to shut him out. It all felt right.
He took a deep breath as he reseated himself and allowed the thought to settle, still waiting for that pang of regret or doubt… It didn’t come.
“Are you okay, son?” he heard his father ask as he stepped out of the house in his padded jacket and slippers.
“I’m fine,” he delivered the practiced answer, but this time, he felt like maybe he meant it just a bit more than he usually did.
“Good… that’s good,” his dad said with a firm nod, lingering in the doorway. He scuffed his slipper a few times before muttering a soft, “Okay,” and turning to head back inside.
It occurred to Drew in that moment that maybe it w
ould be nice not to be alone just then.
“The spell is gone,” he said the first thing that came to mind.
“Drew…” his father gasped, turning to him and clutching his chest, a tentative smile painting his face younger. It looked sincere, and it made Drew want to take a step towards the middle and offer something.
“The PI found Reggie. He still had the grimoire. Mal found a way to lift the spell off,” he said looking into the distance, picking at the cuff of his sleeve. He flinched when he said his name and mentioned the spell. The phantom pain still blossoming behind his eyeballs at the forbidden words. But it was just that. A shadow. A memory. The spell was truly gone.
“That’s amazing,” his father said on an exhale, running his hand over his head.
“It is,” Drew said, not really knowing how to keep the conversation going and even less sure if he wanted it to continue.
“So… what happens now?” his father asked, and Drew sighed.
“That call I just took… was work…” he said and his dad nodded.
“Time to go back?”
“I’ve already used up all the days they were willing to give me,” he said, fiddling with his phone.
“Oh. Well… it was… It was nice seeing you, Drew. Having you here…” his dad said. Stoic as he usually was, he cut the sentence as soon as his voice cracked with emotion, and Drew felt that…just maybe, somewhere down the line his parents and him could be a family again. Not now, not yet… but someday.
“You might be seeing more of me.”
Ray slanted him a hopeful, inquisitive look. “I was hoping you’d be willing to visit every once in a while.”
“Not what I meant. I’m staying,” he said. He didn’t wait for a reaction before continuing. “I’m gonna look for a place, a job probably.”
“Drew that’s…” his father started but caught himself again, clearing his throat. “Old Barry is moving away to Italy to be with his granddaughter. He’ll be renting his apartment out. It’s on Fulton, overlooking the park.”
Drew looked at his father, taking the information for what it was. His father showing that he cared in the only way he knew how. Practical, problem solving, pragmatic.
“Do you have his number?” Drew asked, and he knew his father would take that for what it was too. Drew accepting the care. Tentative as it was, it was a truce.
“I do. I’ll text it to you. The apartment needs some work,” he said, and Drew nodded.
“I might ask Ben to help out with it,” he said as his phone pinged with a text from his father, and he saved the contact, ready to call it as soon as possible.
“Good thinking. He knows what he’s doing,” his father offered and Drew nodded. They lapsed into silence that, for the first time, didn’t feel like a bag of bricks hanging off his shoulders. It wasn’t comfortable still, but it held promise.
“So, um… don’t mean to pry, but… how come you’re coming back?” his father asked after a couple of minutes, and Drew clicked out of another text he had just sent to Mason.
“Mason…” he said simply, and his father chuckled, gusting out cold puffs of breath.
“You know, your mother and I always wondered about you two,” he said, and Drew turned to look at him.
“Always?”
“Think you were around fourteen when she first brought it up.”
“I didn’t even know back then,” Drew huffed and his dad shrugged.
“Parent intuition I guess.”
“Funny how selective that is,” Drew snipped and then cringed. “Shit, I…”
“No… it’ll take time. It’s fine,” his father said, squaring his shoulders under the weight of it.
Drew nodded. “Mason and I… there was a thing before I left. And it’s still there so…”
“You want to see if it can be something?” his father finished for him and he nodded.
“I know it can… I just need to make him see that.”
“Staying is a good first step.” his father said, and Drew felt a bit more secure in his hasty decision to quit his job, uphaul his entire life and move back to a town he never truly felt a part of. Mason was all he needed to feel at home.
He nodded at his father just as his mother pulled up in her car. She took tentative steps towards them, a careful little smile shaky on her face. Drew returned it softly, and she hurried up the stairs greeting them and joining the conversation.
They sat out on the porch for over an hour, talking until the sky turned dark. Drew filled them in on how the spell was removed and how relieved he was to have it gone. He navigated the horrible moments of letting them know how Troy died as best as he could. He knew they lost a son that day, and they deserved to know what happened to him. As much as he couldn't share that grief, he wanted to allow them their heartbreak, so he sat quietly while they held each other, his mother crying silently into his father’s neck.
They drifted from the silence that followed to tentative conversation again, talking about Drew coming back, weaving their way around topics that would pick at scabbed wounds, trying their hand at being a family again.
They retired inside when sun set completely and had dinner together, Drew feeling almost relaxed in their company for the first time in ages. And for the first time in ages, he also felt like his life had a purpose. He went to bed that night finally excited for what was to come.
Mason could hide all he wanted. He wasn’t going anywhere, and he wasn’t giving him up for anything in the world.
A boy was running through a thick forest. Branches scratched his exposed arms and legs, and tears were streaming down his face. He was lost. He was in pain. He was scared. And he had so little strength left.
He heard shouts behind him. Footsteps. Roots breaking and leaves rustling. Someone was closing in, and he was nowhere near close to safety. He wasn’t sure where safety was. Or even if there was such a thing for him. His breathing was shallow, heart was pounding, and his legs were giving out.
But he pushed, he had to try. Something in him was screaming not to give up, not to stop just yet. Just a little bit longer and there was someone there. There was someone who saw him.
Another grunt as he sped up and he felt his toes trip over roots. His body went flying and tumbling on the ground. His forehead connected to something sharp and he knew then.
It was over.
Mason startled awake with a gasp, scratching at the covers as he fought to get free of them. They felt like fingers gripping his arms and legs, keeping him from running. He fought until he kicked them off and fell off the bed. The cold floor met him with a thud, and the colorful throw did nothing to break his fall.
He didn’t care. He didn’t have time to care. For the first time since he started having these dreams, he saw something he recognized. He’d walked those paths time and time again. He knew those trees, and he’d know that sky anywhere. But where exactly was he…
Gasping for breath and fingers shaking, he grabbed for his jackets and scarves, throwing them over his pajamas. He stuffed his bare feet into his boots and ran out. His legs pounded the frozen streets; he was slipping and sliding, falling multiple times and not caring. His feet ate up the distance, breath turning to white mist in front of his face. He was freezing, but sweat was covering his forehead and sliding down his spine uncomfortably.
Flashes of his dream were running in his mind on repeat as he run out of sidewalk and stumbled onto the road out of town. Pain. Fear. Bursts of strength and fight. And then resignation. Defeat. And finally, the darkness after what Mason knew followed the boy’s eyes closing. Maybe forever.
He couldn’t let that happen. He had to do everything he could. The boy was close. He was so close, and Mason had to… he just had to find him.
Finally, the familiar house came into view, and he ran up the stairs, pounding the door with his fists, ringing the little bell and raising hell that was sure to wake up half the world. He didn’t care.
“DARIAN!!!” he screamed at the d
oor, desperate. “Darian, please… open up!!!”
Silence was the only thing he heard, and he felt tears fall. “DARIAN, PLEASE!!!”
Light flickered from behind him, and he whipped around to find the large figure of Darian coming from the woods with a little lantern in his hand. Releasing a breath of relief, he ran back down slamming into the other man and fisting his puffy jacket between his frozen fingers.
“Darian… you have to go back and help him… please, he’s hurt, you need to find him…” he rambled, shaking and pushing the healer, trying desperately to get him to turn around, but he was roughly the size of one of Darian’s arms and there was no moving him.
Thick arms wrapped around him, and he realized Darian was saying something to him, but he had no idea what it was. He kept pleading, repeating himself and trying to make him see they were losing time. It was cold, he was alone and out there for however long.
“We need to hurry he’s out there… please…”
“Mason…”
“He’s scared…”
“MASON!!” Darian shouted directly to his face, and that voice boomed right through Mason’s bones. He froze on the spot, blinking up at the larger man, breath coming out in panicked puffs.
“Please,” he begged on a whisper and Darian gripped his shoulders with his hands.
“What happened?”
“My glances… I saw him, he’s in the woods, our woods, and he’s scared. And hurt, and I think he…”
“Mason, breathe…” he coached. “Who is he?”
“I don’t… I don’t know but… it doesn’t matter, Darian. We have to help him, he needs help!” He was beyond desperate now. His voice sounded hysterical even to him, but this was the closest he had been to finding him. He couldn’t miss this chance.
“There’s nobody in the woods…” Darian said softly, and Mason shook his head.
“I saw him! I keep seeing him!” he insisted. “He’s there… he…”
“He might be… in the future…” Darian explained, voice just as gentle as it usually was, and his words finally sliced through his panic.
