More Than a Game | Mason Mount

Thirty One

"Uh, how much of it do you remember?" He sighed again and ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. "I just... you were pretty out of it when you arrived." 

From the set of his jaw, I knew there was a lot he wasn't going to tell from the night. And I didn't expect him to, no matter how much I wanted to know. Maybe if the circumstances were different I would have pushed him more, but I knew a line had been drawn after everything, one that didn't seem appropriate to cross. 

"Um, not too much," he admitted after a pause. "I guess leaving, and then arriving here. You called me, right?" I nodded and he sighed. "That's a bit of a blur. Shit." 

He slumped forwards and buried his head in his hands again. Swallowing hard, I found myself unsure of what to do. I waited for Mason to say something, or do something. But he said and did nothing, leaving us in silence. Unable to take it anymore, I cleared my throat. 

"What's going on, Mase?" I said the words quietly, but Mason turned his head towards me the slightest bit. "Because I can't imagine you doing this to yourself with everything going on. We play Champions League in two days." 

As soon as I mentioned football, Mason raised his head again. I'd never seen him look like this before: not just this bad, but this deflated. He shook his head and let out a deep sigh. 

"There's no way I'm training today." His tone was final, dismissive, and shocked me down to my core. 

"What do you mean? You have to," I said simply, too surprised to say anything else. He shook his head again. 

"I can't train, Beck. I don't think I've ever felt this shit in my life." 

"Well we have two hours," I blurted out. "We'll get you home so you can shower and I have painkillers and we can get you a green juice or something. But you can't miss today, no matter how bad you feel." 

I was starting to get worked up, and the short exhale from Mason told me he was, too. He could be stubborn at times, but I was just as persistent when it came to important matters, so I was willing to fight him on this. 

"Look, this is a mess," he started, lifting his hands into the air. I didn't let him finish. 

"A mess because you got drunk." 

"I know this week is important but it would just be a joke if I went today." 

"Take a painkiller and get over it; you have to be there!" I threw my hands into the air. Mason studied the floor between his feet. 

"Hart, I can't." 

My frustration boiled over at his crushed tone, forcing me to stand up. "You're a fucking idiot, Mason." 

"I know that!" he practically shouted. I stared down at him in shock as he winced, rubbing his forehead over what I imagined was a sore head. "I know, Beck." 

"Obviously something else happened last night," I said, trying to calm my voice. This caught his attention, and he looked up at me, wide-eyed and dismayed. "Because I don't believe that you'd just do this for no reason. But you have to sort it out another time." 

Mason rolled his lips into his mouth and averted his gaze once more. Feeling too dominating stood over him like I was, I lowered myself onto the floor opposite Mason. Leaning back against the counters behind me, I waited for him to say something. When he didn't, I encouraged him by bumping my foot against the side of his softly. 

"For real, what's happened, Mitchell?" I wondered carefully. "You can't keep avoiding talking about this." When he didn't reply, I added, "If this is about the other night—" 

"It's about a lot of things, and I don't feel like getting into them right now." 

Hurt flared up in my chest at his harsh words. I pushed it aside, though, and let the previous frustration I'd felt towards him reappear. I looked away, clamping my jaw shut to prevent all of the things I wanted to say to him from spewing out in one long line of abuse. 

"I need to get home," Mason commented, slowly climbing up from the floor. I didn't look up him, but saw out of the corner of my eye when he reached for the water bottle on the counter. "Charge my phone so I can call the gaffer." 

I stood up, too. There was a sudden strain in the air between us that was becoming more and more familiar as of late. I hated it. I wanted to say something more, try and fight him on his decision more, but in my heart I knew it was pointless. 

Once up, I kept my head down and my arms crossed as Mason moved around my apartment, I assumed putting his shoes back on that I'd so thoughtfully taken off the previous night. It was strange how the intense care I'd felt a couple of hours ago had diminished so much. Yet, despite the way Mason was acting now, I could still feel it deep down. 

When I eventually did turn around to look at the lounge, I met Mason's eyes. He looked apologetic, and rightly so. I heard him sigh from where I stood and waited for him to say something more. 

"I really appreciate all of this." He sounded the most sincere I'd heard him all morning. "I'm sorry for... yeah. I'm just sorry." He shrugged as he trailed off, examining the floor beneath him instead of looking at me. 

"I'm sure you can show yourself out," I said coldly, turning away towards my room. 

"Don't be like that, Hart." 

Once again, a sting in my heart accompanied his words. This time I fed off it, though, and spun around to face him. 

"Don't be like what?" I asked bitterly. "I'm not the one that's being selfish here. You went and got drunk three days before a Champions League game, Mason, and you're the one missing training because of it." 

His shoulders slumped at this. Staring at me blankly, he shrugged. 

"What do you expect me to do?" 

I shook my head in frustration, clenching my hands into fists. Taking a breath, though, I felt my anger diminish into pity once more. 

"Nothing. I just thought you were better than this, that's all." The look on his face guaranteed that my words had hurt. 

He looked away. "Well, sorry to disappoint you, Beck." 

With that, I watched him walk to the front door in silence, still seething. He turned to look back once he'd pulled the door open, but he didn't say anything. Once he'd left, I furiously wiped away the angry and confused tears that had leaked from my eyes. I wasn't about to let Mason make me cry for the second time in three days.