His lip twitches, and something…fond passes over his expression, softening his sleepy features impossibly more. My heart gives a heavy thump in my chest and my mouth dries.
As if they have a mind of their own, my eyes linger on that slightly curved mouth, and a flash of a memory surges to the surface.
My lips tingle, as if remembering what it felt like to finally be pressed up against the mouth I’ve been silently craving since I was fourteen fucking years old.
The memory tastes like vodka.
Like rain.
Like betrayal and heartache andwhat if, what if, what if.
I tear my gaze away and look down at what I’ve been drawing, turning my focus onto something far less hopeless.
Not wanting to waste the page, I used the accidental mark across the page to my advantage, and started drawing a messy, stitched up heart that spills blood where the seams have ripped, using that jagged line as the massive tear bisecting through the middle. Threads coming undone around the edges.
“Go to sleep, Mason,” I murmur, bringing my pencil back to the page, turning my focus on shading in the crack.
“This is gonna be the last time I see you, isn’t it?”
My fingers still, and I slowly turn my head until I collide with his sad, heavily lidded gaze.
Brow knitting, I frown. “I won’t be in Europe forever.”
He swallows. “Promise?”
I open my mouth, close it, unsure what to even say to that.
“Promise me you’ll come home.” His voice breaks the slightest bit, pain and something else—something far deeper—shining back at me through his glimmering eyes.
Fear.
My jaw quivers, chills skating down my arms, and before I can stop myself, I give a jerky nod.
Despite my better judgment.
Despite knowing promises like this are pointless at best, and heartbreaking at worst.
Despite knowing there’s no fucking guarantee Iwillever see him again.
Bad shit happens. Life is unpredictable at best, and downright cruel at worst.
He knows this.
I know this.
Butfuck,if I can stand that terrified look in his eyes.
So, clenching my teeth until I fear they might crack, I nod again.
I can’t stop.
Nor can I stop myself from reaching over and cupping his cheek, being mindful of the pencil poking out from between my pale, trembling fingers.
“I promise,” I utter with quiet force.
Tears shimmer in his eyes and he nods against my palm, twisting his head, molding his jaw against my flesh. He squeezes his eyes shut.
Only then, when he’s not looking, do I cut my gaze heavenward, blinking rapidly against the tears threatening to spill.
