from @greenelight: sorry baby x ( you know which verse <3 )
MONTH FOUR OF DEALING WITH MASON GREENE , the unshakable , exasperating son of a bitch that’s been dogging him for far too long . month four of all this RAGGED BACK AND FORTH , these games , the showing up to events and ending up scrambling out the back door as quickly as possible . every time they cross paths , it’s a war , a battle for first place , a bouncing back and forth of angry WILL THEY WON’T THEY as he tries to shake mason out of his earnest hunt . now he’s searching the hall closet of this safe house for his hidden stash of foreign currency , fingertips dancing around the top shelf behind a stack of shoe boxes . it’s out of habit that he’s not actually looking ; he’s just aimlessly reaching , assuming the wadded up , rubberband-ed stack will appear and he’s snatch it , stuff it into his pocket , and leave . instead , A SINGLE PIECE OF PAPER . sebastian frowns . confused by its placement , sebastian brings the sheet down to his face and waits for his eyes to adjust in the dark . AT ONCE , THE AIR IS FILLED WITH CURSE WORDS . mason’s handwriting . sorry baby , the x added at the end like a sick joke . maybe he stares at it a bit too long , but soon sebastian’s crumpling it up , groaning , tossing it in the nearest wastebasket . ❝ you fucking idiot . ❞ is that directed at mason , or turned inward at himself ? another groan . he’s screwed without that stack of money . after standing in place for another minute , dragging himself over the angry coals in his mind , sebastian finally gives up . as if mason were standing nearby , leaned in the doorway , he directs his next statement at him . ❝ two can play at that game , baby . FUCKING HELL . ❞
