Deception. Betrayal. Mistrust.
It seems the closer Rayne gets to the truth, the more she finds herself wanting to run away from it. It's complex and terrifying-more than she ever fathomed.
New family members, good and bad, pop out at her like a br...
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𝗠averick hung up the phone and pushed open his bedroom door, feeling as if he's done enough hacking for the day – there was no point in working on something that would not be solved anytime soon regardless. And in any sense, he had much more alluring things to focus on.
He shut the door and sauntered over to his bed, joining his guest. He plopped down, making it bounce hard enough that maybe he'd notice him on his own for once.
Nope.
Mason was sitting at the farthest edge with his legs up, hugging his body, feet crossed at the ankles. His hands loosely held his sitting position together, while his head was tipped back and leaning against the white walls, eyes closed. Apple headphones rested in his ears; the volume on them must be all the way up because from where he was, he could hear the faint beat.
He leaned over and looped his finger around one of the white bands, pulling it out. He didn't open his eyes at the gesture, but his eyebrow twitched just slightly, indicating that he was paying attention.
"Hey, Mase—"
"My name is Mason."
"Right," he paused, "So what are you doing?"
He finally pulled his eyes open; when he shifted them in his direction, he could see how magnificently dull they looked – a perfect mixture of boredom and annoyance in one, but he didn't even care. All he really paid attention to was how the pale blue glowed against the dark black of his hair.
"Take a guess."
"I'd say – listening to music."
"Wow," he said, monotoned, "How smart you are."
Mav snorted at his distaste for a conversation and grabbed his wrist, pulling him closer. Mason reluctantly allowed him to do so, but did not hide the fact that he did not want to move from his cocooned area.
Flopping on the bed vertically, he could see how handsome he looked. His straight hair spilled off the sides of his face and lingered on his forehead like a smoky cloud – too far gone to inhale, but so intriguing, that he wanted to do it anyway. He pulled his headphones completely out and looked at him with inexpressive eyes – almost as if he was telling him to do whatever he wanted, as he did not give a shit, and couldn't no matter how hard he tried.
It was weird, really, seeing him so ... devoid.
The Mason he was interested in had been the bubbly one – the one with too much energy, yet never seemed too overbearing. The version that lay before him now was just a shell of that man. Empty. Tired all the time. Boring, and showed a lack of interest in any and all topics.
But, just like him, he didn't care for it too much.
