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elfcollector · 2 years ago

Text

there for you

rating: teen

relationships: platonic mason & the detective, mentioned adam/detective

warnings: none

summary: "No, no, it’s my fault, it’s my ——” They spin and their smile is horrible, tight, mocking, and their voice goes too loud, too hurt “— it’s my fault for thinking I’d ever be enough for him!”

When there’s a knock at the door to their room, it’s all Blake can manage to choke out, “Go away.”

But the reply isn’t the silence they’d expected — and it isn’t the sound of Adam’s apology, which is what they’d stupidly, stupidly hoped for. It’s gruffer, the voice on the other side of the door that says, “Don’t start sounding like me, Blake. Your stupidly big heart is half of your charm.”

Despite the misery making a home in the soft center of their chest, Blake laughs out something soft and surprised and hoarse. “You can come in, Mason. ‘M sorry, I didn’t realize.”

The door opens, a slide of yellow light cutting through the darkness of the unlit room. That darkness seems to surprise Mason a bit, if the way his shoulders hike briefly is any indication — when his eyes settle on Blake, they widen a little further, his lips thinning.

It’s strange, to see the Detective like this. He’s seen them battered, bleeding, dying — but they’d always had a smile or a joke, that unshakeable confidence outshouting the pessimism that seemed like it should have made them less. He’s seen them endure Adam’s stilted affections without ever so much as wincing, let alone seeming actually wounded. But now, they’re curled on the edge of the bed, blankets wrapped around their shoulders in a makeshift cocoon, hair a mess and eyes lined with dark circles and red. They sniffle, managing a weak smile at his apparent assessment and their awareness that they haven’t passed it.

“Hey. Sorry I look like shit.” Mason closes the door and doesn’t turn the light on, and they breathe out a relieved breath as the darkness lessens their headache marginally. “It’s ‘cause I feel like shit.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” the vampire says as he crosses the room and, after a beat, sits beside them on the bed. It creaks under his weight, the dip causing Blake to lean further into him, and he doesn’t flinch — Blake doesn’t bother wondering if that’s because he’s truly comfortable with them or because he knows just how Adam pulled away from them. They just stare down at their knees and smile something pasted - on. Mason continues, “None of us have really seen you for days, and I can’t remember the last time you had a lay-in. Normally you’re up and at ‘em in the mornings, let alone by noon.”

“I don’t care. I wanna sulk in the dark.” They laugh around statement, but the way the words choke against their throat makes the sound a poor approximation of their usual sarcastic charm. “Unless you’re here to drag me back to the light?”

“I told you I don’t make a habit of telling people how to live their lives,” Mason reminds them. “That usually extends to ‘dragging them’ around.”

“Thought it might be a mission. You’d listen to Adam if he was all like, ‘The detective has been shirking their duties in favor of their silly emotions. Go collect them, Mason, so they can do their job.’” They don’t even try to make the imitation a good one — they just hope they can drag a laugh out of Mason. When there’s not so much as a chuckle, they look up at him with their red eyes, a brow quirked.

“I wouldn’t listen to Adam,” he says, finally, and Blake’s eyes widen. “Not about this.”

They don’t know what to say to that. They know Mason’s their friend, but the agent’s loyalty to Adam has always seemed so...absolute. They manage to snap their mouth shut and turn back to stare forward towards the door, leaning a little further into the man’s side. The silence stretches for a few minutes, Blake estimates, before they softly ask, “I’m probably worrying Felix, huh?”

“And Nate,” Mason adds, and doesn’t add ‘And Adam,’ true as that may be. Adam doesn’t get to be miserable about the pain he inflicted and isn’t healing. “And me.”

Blake laughs quietly. Not surprised that he’s worried for them — they’re all past that, and Blake knows they’re loved — but that he’s admitted it. The sound is a little less croaked. “Sorry. I’m just...doing really bad.”

Mason inhales and then breathes out a sigh. “I think that’s what has us so worried,” he admits. When Blake doesn’t reply, just breathes, too steady to be natural, he continues. “Adam’s a dick —”

That gets something out of them, a muttered, “Tell me about it.”

“— But none of us have seen you like this. About Adam or anything else.” The agent wishes he had a smoke. It would at least give him something to do with his hands as he dealt with the kind of emotional bullshit that doesn’t ever feel right from his mouth. And he so badly doesn’t want to fuck this up. “You’ve been — pretty plucky about his bullshit repression up ‘til now.”

Blake is quiet for a long moment. Mason thinks they might not respond at all, and that would suit him just fine, so long as the silence and the company might comfort. But suddenly Blake has pushed off the bed and is on their feet, blankets shed, and is pacing around the floor in front of him. Dressed in only a loose t - shirt and a pair of boxers, he can see the bandages and the bruises that cover their body from the fight at the auction, though those concern him less than the laugh fleeing the smile they’ve stuck to their face, screaming in sharp contrast to the pain in their eyes.

“I was stupid,” they answer without hesitation, hands carding through their tangled hair as they pace faster, turning from him. “I could tell — he’s been in love with me since the beginning, right? It’s obvious. And I’ve felt the same about him, and he’s so fucking dumb and repressed but we’re both good so I — I just assumed that — that if I — If I just waited it out, kept up the flirting and ——”

Mason does’t move, not sure if he’s frozen by the surprising depth of their pain or by the anger in their too-fast voice, their hunched posture, the hands tugging hard through their long hair. He can’t tell if they’re angry at Adam or themself.

“I thought I — I was so stupid, and I — I shouldn’t even be m - mad at him, ‘cause he showed me exactly who he fucking is and I was fucking dumb enough to think I could help him, and I —”

“Hey, hey,” the vampire finds his voice, starting to rise, “It’s not your —”

"No, no, it’s my fault, it’s my ——” They spin and their smile is horrible, tight, mocking, and their voice goes too loud, too hurt “— it’s my fault for thinking I’d ever be enough for him!”

Mason freezes, eyes huge, and Blake’s smile doesn’t fall, even when they inhale, ragged, and start to cry.

He isn’t a gentle man — he doesn’t show care this way, and love is so rare to earn from him that he’s rarely showed it at all, but it only takes a beat of looking at that miserable, heartbreaking expression before his body moves and he pulls the Detective into an unpracticed, awkward hug.

They stiffen, seeming as shocked as he is, but relax into the hug after only a few beats of their unsteady heart, hands wrapping desperately around his back and twisting tight into his shirt. They bawl into his chest, and he can’t make himself relax or hold them right, but he hopes it’s enough. He hopes they don’t think they have to keep smiling.

“I th-thought,” they whimper, so quiet he doesn’t think he’d catch it without his hypersenses, “that — h-he’s in love with me, and I’m i-in love with him, so we’d — and I just — I thought I’d b-be enough for him to — I thought I’d be wuh-worth letting the walls down.” They hiccup, voice going smaller. “I really — th-thought I’d be worth it to him.”

Mason loves all his family. And he loves Adam, his stupidity and all, and he’s more loyal to that man than he is to the Agency or much else. But he regrets, for a moment, not slugging the bastard when he’d had the chance in the hallways, days ago, when Adam had stupidly broken their fearless Detective’s heart.

“But I wasn’t,” Blake whispers. “I — w-wasn’t worth it. I wasn’t good enough for him.”

They’re more stubborn than anyone he’s ever known, himself included, and more full of love, too — and while Blake has taken guilt for those they’ve harmed or failed, or who’ve been harmed or failed by them, he truly never thought they’d ever hear the Detective doubt whether they were worth enough for another person. Mason hates it, and he grasps their biceps to pull them away from his chest. He’s relieved to see they’re not still smiling.

“Don’t talk like that,” Mason bites out, his hands tightening on their arms. “You are good enough for Adam. Hell, you’re too good for Adam. That’s the whole problem.”

Blake sniffles out a joyless laugh, not smiling, head shaking.

Mason almost growls, “He’s the one who’s too much of a coward to deal with his feelings, not you. He’s the one who’s acting like an ass, not you.” They laugh again, still weak. “You’re stronger than he is, and that’s the issue, not whether you’re worth it. You didn’t do shit wrong. Don’t let him make you think otherwise.”

Blake inhales, hard. The tears don’t stop, but the sobbing’s faded to hiccuping whimpers, which Mason will have to take as an improvement. “— He said the s-same thing. That I’m stronger than him.”

“Then that’s about the only thing that he got right about this whole thing.” Mason squeezes their biceps and hopes it’s encouraging. One of Blake’s hands rises, still shaking, to wipe at their eyes. “I’m not good at this shit, Blake. But I know that Adam’s shit isn’t your fault. And you shouldn’t feel like you’re less than anybody, especially not a guy who can’t even be honest with himself, let alone the person he loves.”

They steady in his arms at the words, nodding to themself after a long beat. It hurts, but — the words help. Mason’s belief in them, a belief they’d shared until so recently, helps.

“I think —” They have to pause, to inhale shakily, to get their voice back. “I think you’re better at ‘this shit’ than you think you are.”

“Don’t you turn this around into comforting me or some shit. I can only handle so much mushiness in one sitting.”

And they laugh — a real one this time, for however choked and soft it may be. “I’m not. I just — thanks. I — hah. I’m still fucking miserable but I — I feel better. I feel — I feel better.” They inhale, a little steadier this time. “You’re a good friend. I love you.”

He’s glad the light’s still off so the Detective can’t see the flush on his face. This fucking human... “I just said I can’t handle more of this mushy shit.”

And they laugh again. “Okay, okay. I’m — I’m gonna take a sh-shower and then show my face for the first time in days. I’ll inflict any more mushiness on Felix. Sound fair?”

Mason lets his hands drop from their arms. “Sounds fair.” His smile is crooked but sincere when he adds, “I’ll still be there, just pretending not to hear it.”

“That sounds perfect.” Blake reaches forward and takes his hand, squeezing it once. Mason groans — just to get another chuckle out of them — but returns the gesture.

#blake whitlock #Specialist Agent Mason #adam du mortain #only mentioned because i trapped him in the glue trap for breaking blake's heart #The Wayhaven Chronicles #anyway i just rly wanted 2 like. i have thoughts #cos like...blake rly thruought the whole flirtation was not all that angsty or sad abt a's bullshit!#aside from the prerequisite stuff. but they were bold and unapologetic and KNEW he loved them #which honestly? has just made this worse!#anyway cant wait til i have 2 experience this again with erin and ava (dying)#when i write ava and erin fic and all the titles are st south lyrics its over #wayhaven spoilers /#ANYWAY I JUST THINK BESTIE M IS SMTH THAT CAN BE SO PERSONAL #fic

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