𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄

ᴇɪɢʜᴛʏ - ꜰᴏᴜʀ

𝗠ason let the tears run in icy, vengeful veins as he clutched his hand tightly and darted from the main living room up the veil-like staircase leading to his bedroom. The moment both feet and both shoulders passed the threshold, he slammed the door behind him with enough force to knock the few picture frames he had hanging around the walls of his semi-new room.

Back pressed to that same small form of barrication, he slid down the length of it and fell into a pile built of nothing more than shambles and heartbreak. He knew that he should have stayed awake—he knew that this new development was the result of his lingering neglect over his own person, but it still didn't stray nor diminish the feeling of blame he felt toward that certain girl.

Rubbing the front of his cheeks aggressively, as so to get rid of these less-than-manly tears drenching his skin, he unwrapped his palm and watched as the wilted and shed remains of the hair he'd been growing out for the last year after being adopted laid still and dead, wrapped in a hair tie. 

"Goddammit, Willow," he cried, "What the hell is wrong with you."

More tears begged for their release, but as he went to grant that wish for them, the loud sound of multiple pounding footsteps on the granite stairs alerted him to a disaster waiting to happen. Scrambling to his feet, his fingers slid over the lock a second too late—in burst Isaac with a worried and sweaty look on his face.

"Mason! There you are!"

"Get out!," he yelled back, not caring for his rudeness, "Just leave me alone! All of you!"

The second pair of thunderous steps he heard had not been lost on him—climbing to the top of the steps as Isaac slipped his slim figure between the tiny crack in the door and his bedroom, he watched the way Willow's tomato face enlarged with glee at the sight of his tears.

"Haha!" she laughed, pointing at him, "Look at the little gay boy crying!"

The sight of her bent over, hugging her stomach in distress due to her obvious exertion, was the last thing he saw before he slammed the oak in her face and locked it for good. It only took a second for him to realize his mistake before he whirled around and glared at the boy who had joined him in the only room that made him feel like himself without an ounce of permission.

"What, is it your turn now?" he snarled, "Are you here to call me gay and mock my transgressions just because I like to grow out my hair? Are you here to label me too?!"

Mason hadn't noticed that his voice had raised to an octave higher than one he'd ever shouted in the direction of anyone in this household—they were royalty, he was not—if Willow reminded him of anything else on a constant basis, it was that.

Yet, somehow in that moment, everything about status and the status quo, in general, left his mind as his feet closed the large gap between their exhaling bodies and his eyes flooded with stars of hate and distaste alike. He couldn't see past the actions of one person—they were all the same to him.