You feel like Home (boyxboy)

t e n

[ s a w y e r ]

For the next few days, maybe closer to a week, I was afraid that Masen was upset with me. He acted like he didn't want to see me. And that made me scared. He texted me a few times throughout the day, but he'd leave me on read if I asked him if he wanted to come over, only to send me something completely irrelevant to the conversation a few hours later. I wasn't even sure I'd seen him leave his house.

But finally, I'd gotten a random text from him, wanna come over?

I was so excited, I didn't even text him back. He must've known that because he was already throwing open the front door before I even got up to it. "Hi." He smiled at me.

"I really missed you." I hugged him tight, burying my face into his neck, clenching the back of his shirt into my fists. "What's been going on with you?"

"I'm glad you came." He kissed me hard, making me melt and pulling my hands into his, interlocking our fingers. "I'm sorry I've been kind of a ghost, lately. I've been a little busy, but I have something to give you!"

Something to give me?

He hurried up the stairs, pulling me behind him. On the way to his bedroom, I realized that this was the first time I'd ever actually been in his house - and I realized what he meant that first day when I'd brought him home. "Yours you can tell you have a mom." It was a bittersweet statement for him. My house felt...warm and inviting. His kinda felt like it was closed off and reserved. Like the effort and intent was there, but the execution had been lost somewhere in the process. It felt lackluster.

Masen's room was the complete opposite. Bright yellow walls and a dark brown hardwood floor made the room warm and felt lived in. And it was so much nicer than I thought it'd be, and by that I meant cleaner. I had expected it to be super messy. Uh, not saying he was messy, but his style was. Even now he was wearing a baggy black t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans that sat snug against his butt. His golden blonde hair always looked like he didn't bother brushing it, but he made it look so good. And God, it would've drove my mother insane to see he was wearing one neon green sock and the other dark pink. But everything else in his room was neatly organized - even his bed was made.

I really didn't expect that. Chaotic good - that was a good way to describe Masen.

"I was thinking about what you said at the lake, about doing something special for you." He got on his hands and knees to pull something wrapped in cloth from under his bed.

"Masen," my face got hot, fast, "I was just joking about that."

"But I wasn't." He looked at me, the seriousness in his eyes piercing me. "I told you that I couldn't garden or build, but I can draw."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and sat down next to him as he offered it to me. I'd never felt more self conscious than then as I felt his eyes on me, watching me intently. My breath caught in my throat as I peeled the last layer of the protective cloth off, revealing the most beautiful canvas I'd ever seen.

"Do you like it?" He asked, nervously, twisting the hem of his shirt between his hands.

"Masen," I looked between it and him. "I love it."

"Really?" The mix of relief and excitement quickly replaced the look of worry written all over his face.

"Yes, really!" I didn't want to look away from it. He drew me. Eyes closed and arms folded underneath my head - this must have been what I looked like to him the day we met: I was laying the same way, with my eyes closed and my hands folded under my head. This was probably just seconds before I got hit with that stupid football.