The Stars Are Fading Away

She'd stay the night
But knows he wouldn't
Care

I heard the sound of a garage door opening through the phone.

"Stay on the line," Mason said, and I heard a car starting.

"Okay." I wiped away my tears. I probably looked like a mess. I hesitantly touched my cheek where Wren had slapped me. It stung a little, but it didn't feel swollen.

"Are you still there?"

"Yes."

"Okay. I should be there in about ten minutes."

I swallowed and wiped for tears away. Why was I still crying? "What time is it?"

"11:30."

I had been sitting here for almost an hour. I must have been freezing, but I didn't feel cold.

"So… What did he do?" Mason asked, a little hesitantly.

"I'll tell you when you get here."

"I'm turning onto your street."

"Okay."

I heard a car pull up and a door slam. Footsteps walked up the paved path to the door.

"Amber, where are you?"

"Here," I said, peeking out around the corner of the building.

He flipped his phone shut. "God, what are you doing out here? You must be freezing!"

I shrugged.

He took off his hoodie and offered me a hand up. I took it, and he pulled me to my feet. He draped his hoodie over my shoulders, over my own hoodie. I pulled it tighter around me.

"Come on," he said, putting an arm around my shoulders and walking me over to his car. I sat in the passenger seat. He walked over to the driver's side and got in. The keys were already in the ignition. He turned up the heat a little and put the car in drive.

I put my arms through his hoodie and hugged myself. I was really cold, I realized.

As we sat at a red light, Mason looked over at my face. He gripped the wheel tightly and I could see his knuckles turn white. He turned his gaze back to the road as the light changed. I put a hand to my face. My hand was freezing cold and it felt good against my cheek.

"Is it bad?" I asked anxiously.

"Not as bad as your other bruise." My hand instantly went to my jaw. It didn't really hurt anymore, but it was still a little sore.

I sighed as he turned into the driveway. He opened the garage and pulled in. I opened my door and walked into the house. I stood in the hallway, uncertain. Mason came in and pointed to one door.

"Bryce's room."

He pointed to a door on the other side of the hallway. "Derrick's room."

He pointed to a door at the very end of the hallway. "Coby's room."

He turned and opened a door on the left.

"My room," he said, walking in.

I followed him into his room. It had a double bed in the middle, a dresser against the wall on the side, a couch pushed against the wall opposite the bed and bookshelves against the far wall, interrupted by a desk. A MacBook sat humming and as I watched it fell asleep. An iPod was charging on the desk. There were three guitars in stands in the corner by the couch, two acoustic and one electric. Mason walked over to the desk and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He threw it down next to the iPod. I went to sit on the couch. I brought my knees to my chest. Tears threatened to come out, and I let them fall.

Mason turned around to face me. Confusion filled his face.

"What's wrong?" He sat down and put his arm around he, pulling me into his side. I broke down against his chest. He rubbed my back and let me cry.

"That was a stupid question," I said once I could say something intelligible. Mason smiled a little. I pulled a little out of his embrace. "I don't know why I'm crying so much."

"It's understandable." He tipped my face up and turned it to the side, looking at my old bruise. It was turning a strange yellow-green color. He turned it to the other side and looked at where Wren had just slapped me. He brushed his thumb lightly over my cheek. I flinched. It still stung.

"Sorry," he murmured. He moved his hand from my chin and rubbed my back again. "Are you okay now?"

I nodded. He got up and looked through the dresser. He rummaged around until he found a huge shirt and a smaller pair of sweatpants.

"I don't even know why we have these," he said as he threw them at me. I caught them and held the shirt out in front of me. I looked like it was a size XXXL.

"Are you okay with wearing these for pajamas?"

I laughed. "Yeah. Why do you have these?"

He shrugged. "The sweatpants shrunk in the wash. I have no idea about the t-shirt. Maybe someone misread a size tag. I'll show you where the bathroom is."

I followed him out of the room. The bathroom was being occupied, so Mason pounded his fist on the door.

"Coby! Stop masturbating and get out of there!" he yelled.

"I'M NOT MASTURBATING," Coby yelled back out. Mason rolled his eyes and pounded on the door again.

The door opened and Coby walked out with sweatpants on and no shirt. He looked at me and raised his eyebrows.

"Well hello, Amber. Are you Mason's guest?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

I laughed. "Not like that, pervert."

"I'm sure," Coby said, laughing. "You know, if you get bored of Mason…"

"LEAVE, NOW." Mason shoved Coby's back. He stumbled, flipped Mason off and winked at me. I rolled my eyes and walked into the bathroom, shutting the door. Mason caught the door before it shut, and walked in.

"Wow, thanks for the privacy."

Mason rolled his eyes and looked under the sink. He found a toothbrush, still in the package.

"Here, this isn't used."

"Thanks," I said, smiling at him.

"It's the least I can do," he replied before leaving and shutting the door behind him.

I changed into the shirt and pants. The sweatpants fit me pretty well, but the shirt drowned me. I looked in the mirror. My cheek was red slightly swollen, but you could only tell if you looked hard. I touched it lightly with my fingertips and wondered if I would get a bruise.

I walked back to Mason's room and opened the door. He was dressed just like Coby had been, sweatpants and no shirt. A guitar sat on his lap and he was strumming it. He leaned over the guitar and his hair fell in his face.

He continued strumming, glancing up at me. He hit an open chord, and I winced.

"What?"

"That's out of tune, it sounds horrible."

I sat next to him and took the guitar from him. I held it out in front of me and plucked all the strings, tuning them.

"Do you play?"

"No. I play piano, but I want to learn guitar. My parents wouldn't let me buy one."

Mason took the guitar from me and started playing something familiar.

"Is that Three Thousand Miles?"

He smiled and nodded.

"I love Valencia."

"Me too." He put the guitar back in the stand and turned to face me.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened?"

I bit my lip. I really didn't want to re-live the experience.

"You want a play by play?"

"You don't have to tell me everything."

I sighed. "He accused me of flirting with you and Derrick. Then he hit me. He said if I wasn't such a whore he wouldn't have to keep doing this."

Mason's hands were curled in fists.

"He did it again."

I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Yes." My voice came out sounding choked.

"Why did he hit you the first time?"

"He thought I was cheating on him with some guy from my class."

"Yeah, he's the jealous type," Mason said quietly.

"I've realized."

I was quiet for a few minutes. I broke the silence.

"Where should I sleep?"

"You can sleep on the bed, I'll take the couch."

"Are you sure? I don't want to take your bed."

"No. You get the bed." He walked over and grabbed a pillow and the blanket sitting on the end of the bed.

"Okay…" I watched him as he stretched out on the couch. I went over to the bed and climbed in. I was exhausted. I put my head on the pillow.

"Good night," Mason said sleepily.

"Not really," I whispered before I fell asleep.