-Bennett-
In all fairness, I hadn't meant to spill the contents of my water bottle all over the passing, unsuspecting seventy-year-old man. I'd been distracted for a fraction of a second, caught up in my own delusions about whether Mason was waiting for me, when I carelessly bumped into the poor man.
I'd tried waiting for Mason in the lobby before my class started.
I'd stood there for as long as possible, eagerly gripping the pass and money I owed him with both hands. I knew it would probably only be a small exchange, a few minutes at most, but that hadn't stopped me from arriving at the gym earlier than usual and restlessly pacing across the carpeted floor.
I'd put the pass and money into my pocket several times just to take it back out, internally debating whether it was better to have it in my hand or in my pocket when he arrived. Would holding onto it seem like I was too eager? Or would it make it seem like I wanted to get this over with? Would that make him walk away from me any faster? Or would he be glad I wasn't trying to take up any more of his time than necessary?
I couldn't stop overthinking despite how mundane our encounter would likely be. What was I expecting, exactly? I knew better than to let my thoughts get carried away, but I couldn't reel them in all of a sudden.
I only turned to head into class at the last possible moment. And even then, I'd briefly considered missing it altogether just to keep waiting, despite knowing fully well it'd be entirely irresponsible to do so.
It wasn't until I received a curious glance from one of my kid's parents as they hurried in through the door, almost late themselves, that I was harshly shaken to awareness.
"Maybe he meant later," I muttered under my breath, hesitantly sticking the pass and money back into my pocket before heading inside.
I tried to ignore the voice in the back of my head telling me that I'd probably weirded him out the night prior, what with my inability to keep all my baggage to myself. That I should have been stronger and stepped out of his car when he first pulled up to my house, not just sat there victimizing myself... basically forcing him to comfort me. I couldn't imagine that it'd been any fun to waste his night away trying to make me feel better.
That had to be it, right?
"Is everything okay, Mr. Oden?" one of the children in my class suddenly asked, blinking up at me; I must've zoned off.
"Yeah, I'm fine, Kyle!" I replied, forcing a bright smile. "Are you ready for class?"
Kyle nodded his head in agreement before heading to his assigned position, seemingly thrilled about today's class; I'd offered the option to play dodgeball with the soft foam balls we stored in the back... but that was only if they behaved.
Which, they luckily always did.
As a result, the class was buzzing with excitement.
"Knock it off," I murmured to myself. "You're just overreacting like always. Something probably just came up."
I found it nearly impossible to calm down, though. Which, somehow all led back to an elderly man berating me in public as he stumbled back and forth, acting like I'd socked him in the face rather than having merely spilled some water over a shirt that was, quite frankly, already kind of moist with sweat. I'd been in such a rush to leave after my classes were finally over, to see if Mason was somehow still around, that I'd stumbled right into the fuming senior citizen.
Perhaps I shouldn't have been drinking water while rushing down the hall, but I figured I'd save some time by multi-tasking. Which, now that I really thought about it, came off as a bit desperate, huh?
"I'm genuinely so sorry, sir," I apologized profusely for the fifth time, flashing a weak smile despite his continuous raging. "It was an accident."
"You think this is acceptable?" He scolded hoarsely, doing his best attempt at a yell, even if at the risk of possibly bursting a lung. "I want to speak to your superior! I could've dislocated a hip! I should sue!"
"Yeah, of course; let me, uhhh," I drifted off while darting my eyes between the old man and the hallway beside us, debating whether to just make a run for it. "I'll go get him, alright? You wait right here!"
Then, I bolted.
"That's not the way to the office!" The older man called out indignantly as he started to chase me down the hallway, yelling out threats about calling the police and suing me for every last penny. And he would've probably caught up as well if it wasn't for the sudden cramp on his thigh that had him helplessly leaning against the wall. I considered heading back to help him... but only before realizing he was still angrily glaring daggers at me.
I yelled out a final apology before bounding up the stairs and turning towards the upstairs locker room, still faintly hearing his threats echoing through the halls. I glanced back nervously while scurrying inside, breathing out a sigh of relief before promptly crashing into another innocent bystander, this time aggressively knocking us both to the ground.
"I'm getting fucking fired. I'm so getting fucking fired. I'm—" I chanted whilst tightly shutting my eyes, already well aware of my fate even as I desperately tried to pull myself off the poor guy I'd more or less assaulted in broad daylight.
"Bennett?" Mason called out in disbelief. And honestly, his voice was far too close to... oh.
I froze against the firm body beneath me, fearfully opening my eyes to find Mason sprawled underneath me, wearing nothing but a thin towel loosely wrapped around his waist. I stared back at him, equally confused; perhaps I'd already died and gone to hell, because how else could I explain this? I'd clearly smashed my head against the corner of one of the benches on my way down and I was in the midst of a trauma-induced delusion while bleeding out on the locker room floor. There was no other way that—
"Hey, hey... look at me. Breathe. What's going on?" Mason called out quietly while reaching up to cup my face with large, overwhelmingly warm hands, his eyes worriedly searching mine like I hadn't just tackled him to the ground.
"I—I," I started before trying to get off of him once more, only to wince as I felt a sharp pain along my foot. "Shit."
"What's wrong?"
"Sorry, I—I'm trying to get off," I assured him, desperately trying to think of anything even remotely disgusting... whatever would keep me from popping a boner against his thigh.
"You're trying to get off, huh?" he challenged in jest, snickering at the obscenity of it all despite our dire condition. Or perhaps because of it. And damn it, why did he have to wear a smile so well? I couldn't even pretend to be annoyed.
"That—That's not how I meant it," I countered weakly, sighing with relief as he let go of my face and carefully helped me up onto the bench. I tried not to stare while he awkwardly gripped onto the towel while sitting up, trying not to flash anyone. I tried to offer a hand to help him stand up, but he shook his head.
"Are you okay?"
I glanced around us, suddenly aware of the few, odd looks we were getting from some of the other gym members as they walked by, which ranged from amused all the way to disturbed. I'd sure made a spectacle of myself, once again.
Calm down, Bennett. Accidents happen.
Yet, I couldn't help the way my heart started pounding at the realization that I'd been so unbelievably close to him. I stared at my own hand in disbelief, trying to remember how Mason's chest had felt against my fingertips.
I could barely even remember due to how panicked I'd been, but the mere thought was enough to have me furiously blushing, my knees physically weak as I tried to cling onto the fading memory. I wasn't going to lie and pretend that the thought of getting on top of him hadn't crossed my mind, but that didn't mean I'd intended for it to happen this way... if at all. Ever.
Moreover, I couldn't help the subsequent pang of guilt that overtook me upon wondering whether he was even comfortable with what had just happened. I tried searching his expression for any signs of disgust, even if part of me didn't really want to know.
Mason had joked about it like it was nothing, but that seemed to be his go-to response whenever I screwed up. It didn't reveal much.
What are you thinking?
"Huh?" Mason peered up at me, a quizzical expression on his face. "You were mumbling to yourself just now."
"I—I'm sorry," I stammered out wearily, just as warm fingertips pressed against my leg. I peeked down at him, curiously observing as Mason scooted closer, lifting up my foot and inspecting it with a seriousness I hadn't been expecting.
I stole glimpses that only went as far as his face, unwilling to lower my gaze beyond that, especially not when he was kneeling right between my legs as water droplets trailed down his firm, glistening body. I could be shameless at times, but I was barely clinging onto my sanity as it was.
"Does this hurt?" Mason asked while carefully rotating my ankle.
I winced, nodding my head, and watching as he reached up to wipe some water off his face with the back of his hand. He'd just finished showering, his short, black hair still disheveled and damp, awkwardly pressed down against his forehead.
"You probably sprained your ankle," Mason explained while carefully rubbing the side of my ankle with his thumb, sighing to himself before lowering my foot back down.
"S'not the first time," I muttered.
He amusedly furrowed his eyebrows while peering up at me. "Is that so?"
"I—"
"You're sorry; I know," Mason assured me, reassuringly patting my knee before pushing himself up to his feet, tightly gripping onto his towel again and adjusting it once he was finally back to towering over me. "Let me go get changed, and then we'll get that ankle iced, okay?"
"No—It's fine, Mason. You don't have to—"
"Do you plan to crawl out of here, then?" He asked curiously, ruffling my hair when I pouted up at him in response. "Yeah, I didn't think so."
I watched him as he turned the corner, deflating only once he was finally out of view. How many times would I make a fool of myself in front of him? He didn't seem bothered despite being dragged into another mess of mine. But then again, I could hardly figure him out enough to confidently assume as much.
I tried not to focus too much on the softness with which he'd treated me, on what it could mean if he wasn't him and I wasn't me. There was no way Mason would ever be interested; he was being nice because I was acting like pandemonium incarnate. Best case scenario, he was simply a lot kinder than he'd initially let on. Worst case scenario, the guy pitied me so severely that he was wasting his time on me despite feeling burdened by my presence.
And that was almost worse than him hating me, for some reason.
Perhaps he even felt like I was taking advantage of his politeness. Any second now, he'd finally realize he'd had enough of putting up with some random nuisance, and I'd see all those layers of cold freezing over him once more. The warmth was so pleasant, but how long would it last if I couldn't get my shit together?
"That was fucking weird, huh?" a disembodied voice called out from a few rows down, clearly bewildered by the little stunt I'd pulled.
Another voice chuckled in response, before being joined by the first.
Yeah, laugh it up. I rolled my eyes irately, hoping Mason would hurry up. I swallowed down the feeling of humiliation as it filled my chest, already threatening to drown me from within. Anger was an easier feeling to handle, so I clenched my hands into fists and let a silent irritation simmer from my very pores instead. I could feel the metaphorical smoke rising and evaporating into the air, although it didn't make me feel any better.
"No, seriously... what a freak," the first voice called out once more, seemingly emboldened.
The second voice laughed once more, followed by a third.
Initially, I couldn't even find it in myself to feel offended when I realized one of them was Mason. He really did enjoy laughing at my expense, huh?
Maybe he laughed after dropping me off last night too. He probably sat in his flashy, sports car and laughed his ass off as he drove home, mocking the sensitive, pathetic idiot who was too scared to go home because his shitty father hated his guts.
Not that he'd be wrong...
I sighed tiredly, immediately feeling the bit of anger I'd managed to muster up unwillingly pouring out of me and washing away, leaving nothing but red, raw embarrassment in its wake. How was I supposed to be angry with him for e me? I probably despised myself more than my other father, so how...
Mason probably hated me too, deep down.
I knew I was spiraling. I could feel myself spiraling, already recklessly making up scenarios in my head and putting words in Mason's mouth, demonizing him over a mere laugh.
I was way too invested in what someone I barely knew thought about me. Because it was just like me to get so caught up in that sort of internal chaos. It was messy and childish and easy. It was easier than acknowledging that perhaps—
Perhaps I deserved it, whatever it was.
But I also couldn't find it in myself to care anymore. So, I tried my hardest to tune it all out, focusing on the brutal pounding of my heartbeat against my ears instead...
Help, I messaged Jonah with shaky hands. I'm being an idiot again.
---
A/N: I want it to be, like, messy...