𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚝𝚞𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝚘𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚝𝚜

vision tainted by the lies of every man [m.m]

inuckles anyone?
feeling in a mood today, but writing is helping :) i have another samgan thing in th works and it'll hopefully be out either today or tomorrow!

fic title from ;; banana pie - lil darkie

cw ;; usage of the r-slur, mentions of self-depreciating thoughts and self-destructive actions.

pairing ;; inuckles [zuckles/mason + inotorious/matt]

prompt ;; mason isn't feeling right, but matt is there to help.

final word count ;; 1.18k.

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it's 4.37, according to his alarm clock, and mason hasn't slept a wink.

he's thinking about matt - of course he is - but this time it's different than the last.

he's thinking about how shitty he is to matt, how horrible he treats his friend, how matt hasn't just up and ditched him already. for fuck's sake, mason even ruined his entire fucking room. matt was obviously upset but he didn't tell mason seriously to fuck off and never talk to him again, that he didn't wanna see his ugly face anymore, and it confuses him.

like, of course he doesn't want matt to stop talking to him, he just wonders what matt thinks of him sometimes, if matt actually does want him to fuck off and never speak to him again.

does matt think he's annoying? does he think mason acts out for attention and decides to give it to him out of pity? does he think mason's a useless fucking retard that needs someone to help him? does he think mason talks too much? does he think mason's absolutely brain-dead? does he.. does he think mason's not worth it anymore?

maybe matt thinks a lot of things about him. maybe all his friends do. maybe they're friends with him because they pity him, because they know that he would have probably ended his life already if he didn't have them.

he snorts, sniffles, squeezes his eyes shut to hold back tears as he grinds the heel of his palm into his eyes. it's cold, it's so cold, mason wants - no, needs - matt, but matt isn't here, he's in his own room and probably doesn't want to be bothered and mason feels so lost and empty and worthless.

because at the end of the day, that's what he is. he's worthless and stupid and unfunny and completely cringeworthy and none of his mates like him. he acts like a fucking buffoon, stupid and disgusting and fucking retarded.

tears slip through his eyelids and roll down the side of his face, he groans and flops over, shoving his face into his pillow. it's unfair, not knowing sometimes. the weight, the anxiety, the crushing boulder sitting heavily on his shoulder, threatening to break him with every move he makes.

and the thing is, he isn't only a shitty friend, he's a shitty content creator. he doesn't upload frequently, and even though fitz doesn't, fitz's viewers actually like him for his persona, not because he's friends with swaggersouls, unlike mason.

why the fuck is it so cold?

hands ball into fists that ram into the wall, his frustration and anger eminent. knuckles bruise, split, each time he punches the stone wall. mason just wants to feel something other than anger and depression.

mason just wants to feel.

a knock on his door startles him, stops him from punching the wall again, and he huffs. this is what he gets for punching shit at four in the morning when he lives in a house full of other youtubers with just as shitty sleep schedules as his. he shouldn't have done it, shouldn't have punched it, but he can't help himself, and now he's probably going to get yelled at by swagger or tobi or- or matt (jay doesn't yell at people when they keep him up, simply confronts them about it later in the day). he slides his sleeves over his bleeding knuckles, shivering as he tentatively walks to the door and opens it.

"mas', you alright?" matt asks him, hands shoved in the pockets of his sweatpants, tired eyes and a weary smile on his face, and all of a sudden, mason feels guilty - guilty for waking him up, guilty for making him worry. "you've not been-" matt pauses, swallows and looks down, "heard some banging 'nd was wondering if everything's alright. mind if i come in?"

mason.. mason wants matt to come in. on the other hand, though, he's scared, afraid of what will happen if matt finds out he's hurting himself again, if matt finds out he's in this self-depreciating mindset again, stuck in the toxic loop he cannot escape from without help. instead of giving a verbal response, he shrugs, moves out of the way so matt can shuffle his way into the room, closing the door behind him.

mason sits on his bed and matt takes it as an invitation to sit beside him, glancing up at the australian's weary face and tired eyes. "are you.. sure you're alright?"

mason starts to say yes, but matt seems genuinely worried. he hates that look on matt's face, eyebrows pinched together and his lips quirked into a frown, he hates when matt isn't smiling, he hates it. "nah," he says, instead of blatantly lying, "not been feeling too well, to be honest. feeling like shit, like i'm worthless 'nd like y'all never did like me in th' first place. y'know, the works." he chuckles, but nothing is amusing. matt reaches over, grabs one of his hands and hooks his thumb underneath the sleeve, looking to mason for permission. the australian shrugs, and matt pushes the sleeve back, exposing mason's dirty and bloody knuckles, and the american sucks in a breath, looks up at mason with a sad frown.

"you're not worthless, mason. you mean-" matt cuts himself off, takes a deep breath, and lets the words flow out with no regrets. "you mean everything to me. i'd do anything for you, and i mean it. i.. mason, i care about you more than you'll ever know. when you're feeling like this, i don't care what time it is or where we are, i want you to come to me. we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, i can keep you busy and help take your mind off it, but i just want you to know that i'm always going to be here for you, no matter what. i won't judge you, you're free to talk about whatever's going on up here," he taps mason's temple and smiles softly, "with me. d'you want me to stay with you tonight?"

and, oh, mason is so selfish. "yeah," he croaks out, "yeah, please."

matt manoeuvres mason into a more comfortable position on the bed, pushing against his shoulders until he's laying back on the bed, then lays down beside him, tossing an arm carefully over mason's waist and pulling him closer. he needs to clean mason's knuckles, make sure they don't get infected, but he's still got time. he isn't tired, not yet, but he can tell mason is already trying to resist the urge to fall asleep in matt's arms. he can't help but chuckle softly at that, humming a nameless tune and gently beginning to run his fingers through mason's hair.

mason falls asleep to the lingering press of matt's lips against his forehead. he knows they'll have to talk about this in the morning, but he can't bring himself to care, not when matt's arms are keeping him safe and secure. it's not so cold anymore, not with matt here.