The Wembly-Johnson Divide

3: mason wembly

    His plan was bad. It was poorly thought out, poorly implemented, and of course, he chose the party that Willow was at. He was just going to spend a night with Chloe, far, far, away from Willow, to make sure that all the rumors of him and Willow would be incinerated forever. But no one fucking cared. He was just another guy with another girl, drinking, kissing, and dancing. So he spent the next couple hours sober as shit, watching the party unfold around him miserably.

    It was nearing one in the morning when Mason saw Weston making his way to the exit with a girl in his arms, and he felt happy for his friend. When Mason realized that the girl was Willow, he was angry. But when Mason figured out that Weston was only slightly less drunk than Willow, he decided it was probably best to stop Weston from doing anything too dumb.

    (This was for Weston. Not for Willow. Her being there didn't impact his decisions at all.)

    Chloe was still attached to his arm though, so he had to find a way to distract her first. It didn't take much. He just told her he was going to the bathroom, and then took off in the opposite direction. She didn't seem to notice. He caught up to Weston and Willow easily enough, with both of them drunk-stumbling very slowly.

    "Hey man, where're you going?" Mason asked, earning a confused glance from Weston. Willow's arms were wrapped around his neck, but she seemed to be asleep.

    "I'm driving Willow home. Maybe being nice to her will get me a chance," Weston pondered thoughtfully. "You know, we didn't even kiss today... I just let you believe that we did. It's just, she's sooo cool. Plus, she owns a red motorcycle. That's like... really cool."

    "You're wasted, Weston. You can't drive," Mason deadpanned, forcing Weston to stop his slow advance to his car. He pretended like Weston's confession didn't send a sharp pain through his heart.

    "Shit... you're right," Weston agreed, as if he just realized that he couldn't see more than three feet in front of him. He offered up Willow's limp body to Mason, scratching his chin as he thought of how he could get home. "I'm gonna go grab a ride with Zach."

    Mason nodded, assenting to Weston's plan, until he realized that he was left with a drunk Willow to take care of. Shit.

    "Hey, Mason?" Weston called out after he walked away a couple of feet. Worry flooded his face with sincerity. "Can you please make sure Willow gets home safely?"

    "Sure, Weston," Mason sighed, grimacing as Willow's head fell to rest against his chest. Chris chose that moment to walk out of his house, his eyebrows furrowing as he saw Mason with a figure that looked like Willow's leaning against him. SHIT.

    "Is that Willow?" Chris questioned, earning the attention of a couple of people around them. Mason chuckled awkwardly, shaking his head vigorously.

    "No, man, it's, uh, Wi-Winnie my, um, friend from another school," Mason lied, not very believable. It was a good thing no one was sober (apart from him).

    "OH, cool," Chris nodded as if Mason's answer made sense to him. "I'm going to get another drink."

    "Yeah, sure, have fun," Mason muttered, realizing he had to do something to make Willow less recognizable for the next couple of feet. Begrudgingly, he slipped his jacket off of his shoulders, wrapping it around Willow's head so that no one could see her face. She was slowly waking up as he finished disguising her, so at least he didn't have to carry her. "Come on. It's just a mile. We can make it."

    Willow obliged, matching his slow pace laboriously. They weren't making great time, but it was progress nonetheless. Mason's jacket had slipped down Willow's body by now, and was resting on her shoulders like a cape. He was thinking about taking it back, but she wrapped it tighter around herself just as Mason moved his arms to grab it. Fine, she can have it for now.

    "Why didn't you bring a car?" Willow groaned, her consciousness slowly returning to her. She obviously didn't have enough of a grasp on reality to realize that she was walking with Mason, but Mason didn't complain. Always fighting with her was exhausting.

    "It's a mile away from your house. Why did you bring a car?" Mason countered, earning a sharp glare from Willow.

    "Two words. My. Fucking. Stilettos," she stated, rolling her eyes at my expression.

    "That's three words," Mason pointed out.

    "Determiners don't count," she hissed, pushing away from Mason angrily, before noticing that she didn't have much of a control over balance anymore. She stumbled her way back to Mason carefully, grabbing at his bicep tightly. He scoffed at her determination to prove her independence, stopping abruptly on their slow walk to their houses.

    He crouched down in front of her. "Get on my back."

    "What?" she laughed, disbelief coloring her tone. "No way."

    "You're too slow," Mason complained.

    "You know what would really make this faster? A car. Or a bike. Or a tricycle. Anything with fucking wheels," Willow ranted, refusing to comply with Mason's request.

    "You done?" Mason retorted after she finished.

    "Not nearly," Willow stated defiantly, before sighing tiredly. "Fine. I'll get on your back. Just note that this is not a concession and that the only reason I'm doing this is because my feet fucking hurt. And the alcohol is making my brain all loopy. And I can't really see more than five feet in front of me and everything's just all blurry in general. And I-"

    "Please shut up," Mason requested, breathing out in relief when Willow finally wrapped her arms around Mason's neck gently.

    "Sorry Mason," she said sincerely, dipping her face into Mason's neck. He inhaled sharply at the sudden contact of her lips against his back but didn't do anything to make her move.

    "It's okay. It's better than when you're yelling at me," Mason confessed softly after a couple of steps.

    "I don't want to," Willow admitted, burrowing her face into Mason's neck further. "I'm just so terrified that you'll hurt me again. I know I won't survive it. So it's just easier to push you away. Far, far, away."

    Mason let her words hang in the air, pretending like they didn't hurt him more than any of her insults ever could have. They were almost home anyway, and after she had a good night's rest, they would go back to the way they were before. He would forget this night ever happened and she wouldn't even remember it to begin with.

    The next few minutes passed in silence. They were long, but Mason finally made it to the sidewalk near his house. "Willow, we're here."

    "Yeah," she mumbled, lifting her head up from where it was rested. Her voice sounded groggy as if she had fallen asleep again on his back. She slid off his back carefully, and Mason turned to face her after she was securely off.

    "You good?" Mason questioned, placing his hands on her shoulders. She nodded sleepily, and Mason wanted more than anything to help her to her door, but if either of their parents found out that they had been talking to the other, there would be hell to pay. She walked a couple of steps towards her house before turning back as if she had forgotten to say something.

    "I forgot to return your jacket," she told him, moving her hands to peel it off her shoulders.

    "Don't worry about it," Mason smiled, stopping her movements altogether. "My jackets always looked better on you anyway."