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Step One: Denial	By : quoteintangible Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Metro Station Views: 955 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Metro Station. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Four Stages of Grief: Step One Denial
- 1
*** indicates the beginning and end of a flashback. I couldn't figure out how to italicize things.

Step One: Denial

It was the same thing every night.

Without a word Mason would pack up his guitar and take off after the concert to hide in the bus. Sometime later I always found him curled up in his bunk; face turned away from me and pressed into the blankets.

Tonight was no different.

“Mason, honey—”

“Go away,” he mumbled.

“No. You need to get up and eat something, babe.”

“I’m not hungry,” he said somewhere between a pout and a whine as he burrowed further under the covers. If I wasn’t so worried about him, I would have found it adorable.

“At least try,” he refused to respond, “for me Mason, please.” I hated to beg, but it was worth it when I saw a single eye peak out from behind the blankets to stare at me. After a moment he acquiesced.

“Fine,” he mumbled and cocooned himself in the blankets again.

I sighed in relief, grateful that, for once, Mason didn’t fight me about eating. I think Mason understood that seeing him like this hurt me too and he did not want me to worry too much. But he also knew how stubborn I was and that I wouldn’t leave till I got what I wanted. Better to give in now and save all the trouble.

I quietly got up and let him mope in his fort of blankets so I could make him something to eat. I didn’t know how to make anything else besides soup and mac and cheese, though. We didn’t have any soup. But I did find an old box of Velveta mac and cheese. I’m sure the dust meant nothing.

When I placed the bowl in his lap, Mason simply stared at it as if was poison. It wasn’t until he caught sight of my glare that he slowly began to eat. He chocked down the food as if it was making him nauseous and I knew he was only trying this for me. But I also knew that he knew how grateful I was for his effort. And maybe that made us both feel better just knowing how much the other cared.

It didn’t stop the disappointment when Mason shoved the only half eaten bowl at me before curling back up into the bunk. No matter how stubborn I may be, I knew I was not going to get another word out of Mason, nor would I be able to get him to move.

“When you’re ready to talk, I’m here for you.” It was the same thing I said everyday and I got the same response: absolute silence. Not even a stir of the pile of blankets on my bed.

I sulked away, angry, hurt and confused.

I knew he hurt, I knew something terrible had happened. I didn’t know what, though, and he wouldn’t tell me why no matter how hard I pried.

And Mason told me everything, even his deepest, darkest secret.

I remember the night he told me his most horrifying secret with stark clarity.

We were only 17 years old, and I had only known Mason for less than a year. But somehow, sometime during our talks of music and making it big…we fell in love. Nine months after the first day we met I asked him out.

But three months into our relationship I knew something was terribly wrong.

We hadn’t gotten past the kissing and at first I thought it was because Mason was self conscious and didn’t want to show me his gorgeous body. But the bruises were too many and too often, the excuses were all the same, and he could never quite hide the flinches from me. There was a vague suspicion growing in my stomach.

I prayed I was wrong.

But I had to know the truth.

I tried as subtly as I could to find out. I kept trying to persuade him out of his clothes, to get him so hot and bothered that he wouldn’t protest, but he always stopped me. And he always avoided the issue whenever I brought it up. Finally, finally after weeks of failed attempts, I snapped.

***
“I know Mason, god I know. Just tell me.” It was not a question. I refused to let the subject drop this time. Mason had skirted around the issue for far too long, going so far as to downright avoid me.

I needed Mason to trust me.

Mason didn’t get angry like I expected, but the life drained from him. He deflated, slumped against the wall in near defeat, but a last bit of insecurity kept him quiet.

“If you can’t tell me, then this relationship will never work.” I did not want to be the jerk or the asshole, but I knew Mason needed to do this and I would not get the answer by coddling him.

I saw a flicker of pain pass through his eyes before he squeezed them shut.

“Look at me, Mason.”

There was slow shake of his head. “If I look at you, I’ll never be able to tell you.”

I felt my anger deflate and my heart ache in sympathy.

“Tell me, love.” He bit his lip. “Mason…”

“He beats me, Trace.” A single tear coursed down Mason’s pale cheek. I squeezed my own eyes shut and gathered him close.

“Your father?” He nodded against my shoulder.

“He’s always been kind of scary and impatient. And when we were younger, we never wanted to cross him, but I never…”He started trembling and I held him closer.

“I knew I was bi when I was 14. I bought some stupid gay magazine because I was curious. I shouldn’t have bought it, Trace.” One of his hands clutched at my shirt.

“My father found it. He was so pissed. He told me he wouldn’t have a gay for a son. He said he would beat ‘it’ out of me.”

“He kept true to his word and I found out that day what real pain and fear was. I…I played along; let him believe he tortured ‘it’ out of me. And for a while, the beatings stopped.” He took a long shuddering breath.

“But when I was 16, my Dad found out that I made out with some guy. I still don’t know how, but I know things got worse after that, and he hasn’t stopped since.”

I held Mason as he cried for the first time in a very long time.
***

That night, Mason told me everything his father had done to him and I was so sickened by some of the things he had been through, I nearly threw up.

And now, a year and a half later, I was the first and only person Mason told. No one else even knew he was bi, except for me, his father and that one random guy he had made out with. Mitchell knew, of that I was certain, but Mason didn’t know that. His mother knew nothing and I knew his father had gotten away with it.

Mason still periodically went home to visit. I was terrified for him every time he did and I still tried to convince him otherwise.

But the important thing for now was that Mason had told me. It was after I pried it from him, but still he told me everything. If he could tell me that, why couldn’t he tell me this?

I felt that familiar, painful flutter in my chest that ached with the beating of my heart. Never before had I been this worried and it scared me. I simply did not know what was wrong and it was more frightening then his infrequent visits home.

“Did it work?”

Ant’s soft-spoken question startled me and I nearly dropped the bowl of mac and cheese on him.

“What?”

“I asked if it worked. Did you get him to eat?”

“Yeah, kind of,” I replied sullenly and plopped down next to him on the couch. I stared into the half empty bowl achingly.

“You’re really worried about him aren’t you?”

“It’s just…I don’t know what to do, Ant.”

“You just have to be there for him, let him work things out on his own and when’s ready to tell you, be ready to listen to him. He will come around, Trace.” There was no question in his words. He knew it would happen and I found it comforting, reassuring that at least one of us was still confident.

“I hope so.”

Ant had that look in his eyes, that look that scared me just a bit and yet at the same time gave me a sense of relief.

I know your secret, his eyes said; I know you’re in love with Mason.

And I know we’re not alone.

---

It was the next night and Blake and I had to blockade Mason’s escape after the concert in order to keep an eye on him. We forced him to sit between Ant and myself. I didn’t quite anticipate how awkward it would be though.

To say it was the most awkward silence of my life was an understatement. We were too afraid to meet each other’s eyes and too afraid to confront Mason. Mason for his part refused to meet our eyes and kept them stubbornly focused on the floor.

He was getting worse, day after day, and as he sat next to me nervously fidgeting with his phone, I knew I couldn’t let this go on any longer.

I knew I had to do something. I was prepared to do an intervention when Mason jerked in surprise as his phone began to vibrate.

There was a softly spoken hello on his part and screaming on the other end.

And then there was a vague suspicion growing in the pit of my stomach along with dread, but I forcefully squashed the feeling down because it simply could not be true.

Mason’s shoulders tensed and a small tremble wormed its way through his body. I leaned closer, trying to offer him comfort I knew he needed. He cast a glance my way.

“Mason?”

His phone slipped from shaking fingers then to thud noisily to the floor.

“Mason what’s wrong?”

The words seemed to have fled from him as he stared at me helplessly. I moved closer and settled a hand on his shoulders, but he flinched away from me.

There was only one reason Mason would ever flinch away from me. I could deny it no longer.

The man on other end of that phone was that son of bitch he called ‘father.’

I felt my blood boil at that bastard and what he had done to Mason. I could only imagine what it was this time that had set him off.

I wouldn’t let him run away this time, not from his problems and not from me.

I grabbed his hand and whispered ‘let’s get out of here.’ He may have nodded, I’m not really sure, but he was coming with me whether or not he wanted to.

I dragged him out of the bus, down the street and into the closest alley.

When we finally stopped, Mason was already wiping at his eyes furiously as the tears threatened to overwhelm him.

I practiced a speech last night, on how I would get Mason to talk to me and I planned, during that speech, to drag the truth out of him, kicking and screaming if I had to. But when I saw those tears I wanted nothing more than to take away his pain and wipe away those tears and just make him forget.

“I shouldn’t care what he says,” Mason stuttered to my surprise, “he’s a bastard and I hate him. I shouldn’t believe him…I hate him.”

I wanted to tell him everything would be okay. I wanted to comfort him, but the words were stuck in my throat. I could lie to everyone else, but I could not lie to Mason.

I gathered him in my arms and clasped his hand in mine and let him cry, just hoping to protect him, even the tiniest bit, from his father’s cruelty. The sob that he let out broke my heart and I tightened my grip. As I held him close to my chest and smoothed his hair to soothe his fear, I wished, not for the first time, that there was something more I could do.

“What did he do, Mason?” There was no need to say his name, there never was. I could never get the words past my tongue anyway. I never wanted to bring him up ever again, but I knew, just like I did a year and a half ago, that just because he finally told someone, did not mean the problem was fixed. He had to tell his mother, he had to get away from his father for good. I couldn’t protect him forever. Mason needed to confront his demons.

“He found out about us,” he whispered and let out another pitiful sob. “I don’t know how, but he did. And he told me how much he hated me, how disgusting I was. He thought he beat it out of me a long time ago, but he doesn’t understand that he never can. And he….he threatened to hurt them, Trace, unless I came home for a ‘visit.’”

“You can’t go back to him, Mason.” He was silent and tense. “You have to tell your mother.” He flinched again.

“I can’t.”

I pulled away just slightly and tenderly wiped his unruly bangs from his eyes.

“I know you’re scared, but she needs to know. And…she’s your mother, Mason, you have to believe she’ll still love you after she knows everything.”

“And what if she doesn’t?”

“Then you’ll still have me,” I said. “I know it’s not the same, Mason, but I would do anything for you. I love you.” But that didn’t even sound reassuring to my own ears. I noticed the dark alley we were in and the one little, lonely light just above us and tried again.

“There’s nothing beyond this light, but you and me. And as long as this light still shines we’ll be okay,” I began rubbing soothing circles on his back as he relaxed the slightest bit. “And no matter what happens, you’ll never be alone. I will always be there for you.”

“And you promise never to leave?”

“You couldn’t get me away with a chainsaw.” I held him a little longer unwilling to let go, trying to offer as much comfort as possible. “And when you tell your mother everything, I’ll be right there with you.” I left no room for argument.

It would be a long, hard uphill battle, but everything had to work out fine in the end. There was simply no other option.

I knew he wasn’t completely reassured, but he pulled back regardless and wiped at his eyes in embarrassment. Mason wasn’t one to cry, especially in front of other people and he always hated it when he did. He hated to appear weak.

But weak was one thing Mason would never be in my eyes.

I cupped his face and wiped away the lingering tears with my thumbs, trying to appease his embarrassment, trying to prove how much I loved him.

“I’m sorry, Trace.” He was too ashamed to meet my eyes so I titled his head till his eyes met mine.

“You, Mason Musso, have nothing to be sorry for.” He smiled softly before his eyes turned somber.

“I’m scared.”

“I am too, but we have to believe that in end, we’ll all be better off for it.”

“I want to believe that,” but I know he didn’t. Mason smiled softly, “I must look horrible,” he added, desperate to change the subject.

“No. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” He blushed and again I was struck by how adorable it was. “Let me prove it too you.”

He was startled when I pressed my lips to his, but he quickly responded and hungrily returned the kiss.

I licked his lower lip and he opened his mouth to let our tongues tease and slid against each other. We broke apart for air and I rocked my hips into his. The moan that followed sent shivers of pleasure down my spine. Attacking his lips once more I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him closer, grinding my hips against his once more. Mason moaned into the kiss and I wanted him ever more.

He titled his neck and I took it as an opportunity to nip and suck at his neck as I flipped us over. His back slammed into the wall, but neither of us noticed nor cared.

I pulled back, for just a second, to admire the beauty I had pinned to the wall. His cheeks were flushed and he was panting slightly and I couldn’t get enough of him. I attacked his lips once more as one of my hands dipped under the waistband of his too tight jeans, teasing him slightly before unzipping his pants.

I smirked at him before kneeling and he gasped quite obscenely as I freed his erection.

He bucked against the wall as I wrapped my lips around his arousal and I could hear his fingernails as they scratched against the wall trying to find purchase.

I loved doing this. I loved making Mason hot for me. There was something so alluring about hearing him moan and knowing it was because of me.

Mason jerked and flushed hotter as I massaged his length and tip with my tongue, licking the drops of precum that gathered.

I knew he wouldn’t last much longer as I gently massaged his throbbing erection with my mouth and my hands.

One of his hands snaked into my hair as he thrust uncontrollably. His knees began to quiver and he gasped loudly again.

“Trace, oh god…” I hummed in response, knowing it would send him over the edge. “Trace...” was the only warning I got before he came hard. Mason moaned again and that passionate, fiery, possessive desire pulsed through me again.

I stood up and claimed his lips again, letting him taste himself and fumbled for the zipper of his jeans.

But this was about Mason, not me, so I zipped up his pants and pulled back.

Mason shuddered slightly, but he seemed almost…grateful that I wasn’t pressing to go further.

“Thank you.”

I shook my head slightly. “Don’t. You’re beautiful Mason and I want you to know how much I love you.” He blushed again, and I wanted to ravish him right there in the dark alley. But I would never do that, not to Mason.

Instead I grabbed his hand and led him back to bus and held him as he slept in my bunk.

It was perhaps the most uncomfortable position I would ever sleep in and I knew I would wake up sore and grumpy.

But as long as I was with Mason it would not matter.
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Step One: Denial