Jamie's in the middle of shaving for a date with Mason when he hears the door to their apartment open. He wonders what took Mason so long to get back from class; he couldn't recall being told about a meeting with a professor or another student and Mason didn't answer any of his texts.

"Hey," he says over his shoulder as he hears Mason walking down the hallway towards him. Pausing between passes with the razor, Jamie turns to look at Mason. "I sh-" He freezes mid-sentence as he takes in his boyfriend's appearance.

Mason looks… awful.

There's a bruise blossoming on his cheek, a cut on his forehead, and blood trailing from his nose over his lips- the top of which is split just next to the blood trail. His clothes are dirty and crumpled and his eyes are locked on the floor, not looking at Jamie. He's hunched in on himself in a way Jamie's never seen before.

"Oh my god," he cries, dropping the razor in the sink and taking a step towards Mason. "What happened?"

Mason doesn't say anything as he steps into his room and closes the door.

Left in the hallway, mouth gaping, Jamie stares at the closed door. He puts a hand flat against it. He didn't hear it lock, but he doesn't open it.

"Mace?" he says softly. "I'm not going to make you come out or talk to me, but I'd like to know you're okay."

He doesn't get a response.

"Do you need to see a doctor?"

Still nothing.

"Okay. I'll be here if you want me."

He sits on the floor, his back pressed against the door. Through it, he can hear Mason's heavier-than-normal breathing and the way it catches, as though he's trying not to cry. Mason then lets out a quiet whimper that turns into muffled sobs.

It breaks Jamie's heart. He doesn't know what to do or how to help. He wants to go into Mason's room to comfort him, but he respects his privacy. So he stays outside and listens to him cry. On one hand, he wants to talk quietly so Mason knows he's there, but he also doesn't want to force himself where he isn't wanted. He wants Mason to have the alone time he needs. Just because he's his boyfriend, that doesn't give him the right to barge in and demand answers.

After a while, Mason's cries lessen into sniffles then nothing, and still, Jamie sits there. The only time he leaves is to cook them dinner and he leaves Mason's plate on the floor outside of his room, but Mason doesn't take it. Even when Jamie sits in the kitchen barely eating his own food so he won't be right there when the door opens, it doesn't.

Half an hour later, Jamie knocks on the door to let Mason know he's putting it in the fridge and only gets a shifting noise in answer. He stops by his room on the way back, discarding the towel that is still around his waist and pulling on a pair of sweatpants. He doesn't bother with finding boxers before he's back at Mason's door.

He tucks his fingers under the door behind him. He's thinking about how his sisters are constantly shoving their hands and fingers under doors when wanting their mom when fingers touch his from the other side of the door.

Mason's fingertips interlock with his and Jamie is glad to be giving any kind of support. He wasn't sure how much his presence was wanted or appreciated, but Mason reaching back tells him it is.

With them sitting back to back, Jamie lets his head fall back against the closed door between them. He mutters quiet nothings into the silent apartment, telling Mason about what he learned in class, about the pieces he's playing in band, and anything else that comes to mind.

He falls asleep like that, leaning against Mason's door and their fingers touching.

The door opens the next morning and his body falling backwards makes Jamie wake up in a panic. He pushes himself up onto his elbows as he orients himself to where he's lying in Mason's doorway. Mason's standing above him, looking at him with a concerned expression.

Jamie scrambles to his feet. "Hey," he says lamely. "Are you… are you okay?"

He reaches out, his hand hovering over Mason's injuries, wanting to touch him but not knowing if he's allowed to. The bruise on his cheek has darkened and a few more appeared over the night. The blood over his lips has dried, as did the blood from the cut on his forehead. His eyes are still a little puffy from his crying.

Mason tilts his head slightly, nuzzling his cheek into Jamie's palm.

Slowly and carefully, Jamie steps closer and gently puts his other hand on Mason's waist. He dips his head down to let his lips brush over his cheekbone. "Baby," he breathes.

Mason's eyes flutter shut, as though he wants to give in to the comfort, but isn't letting himself.

"May I take care of you?"

At Mason's nod, Jamie takes him by the hand and leads him into the bathroom, sitting him on the counter next to the sink. He washes his hands and gets a washcloth, running it under the warm water to clean away the dirt and dried blood from Mason's face.

Standing between Mason's spread legs, he works in silence, being gentle with his boyfriend's injured face. Jamie cradles his jaw to hold him still as he cleans with his other hand, and Mason's eyes fall shut. Even though he's trying not to use too much pressure, Mason still winces occasionally, and he apologizes each time.

Slowly, Jamie is able to see more of Mason's skin from under the grime and he notices there are more bruises than he first thought. Like the light bruise from the corner of his eyes to his ear, suspiciously the same shape as the arms of Mason's glasses. He doesn't like the thought of what could have caused it. He also notices the cut on his forehead has pink around it, and he prays it doesn't get infected.

He wants to know what happened for Mason to end up looking like this, but he promised he wouldn't make Mason talk to him if he didn't want to and he wasn't going to go back on that promise. He'd rather Mason approach him on his own time because he wants to talk about it to him, not because Jamie couldn't respect his boundaries.

"Do you wish I was more like you?" Mason says quietly. It's the first thing he's said since he came back the day before and Jamie doesn't understand how- if at all- it relates to what happened.

"What? What do you mean?" He tries to catch Mason's eyes to connect the dots, but he's staring at the ground.

"Do you ever wish I looked more like you?"

He's still trying to figure out what Mason's really asking, but he knows it's important somehow. Instead of making a joke about seeing enough of himself in the mirror, he goes along with where he's being led. "In what way? Taller? Blond? Freckled?"

"White?"

He freezes, his hand halfway to Mason's face. "Oh," he says, dumbly, as the one word starts filling in blanks. "Is that what happened?"

"Do you?" Mason asks, his eyes tearing from the ground to burn into Jamie's. It's the first time he's looked at him since he locked himself away and the way he avoids answering Jamie's question answers it anyway.

"No." He says simply, matching Mason's intensity. He lets his arm fall to rest in Mason's lap. "No, I don't. Babe, I've never wanted you to be anything other than what you are. I've never thought 'You know what would be better? If my best friend and the love of my life is white.' No. That's not- no. It's never occurred to me to want you to be white.

"Being Mexican is just a part of you-" he cups Mason's cheek, brushing his thumb over his cheekbone- "I'm not going to wish it away. That's just you and you're so beautiful as you are, and I can't picture you a different way. I don't want you a different way. I fell in love with who you are, not who you could never be."

Mason's still looking unsure, biting his bottom, uninjured lip. "It'd make things easier, though, wouldn't it?"

Using his thumb, Jamie gently pulls Mason's lip out from his teeth. "What things?"

Silently, Mason shakes his head. "I don't want to get into it, but I notice things. I'm thankful that you don't have to worry about it, that you've never learned to look for it, but it's there. And sometimes it makes things difficult."

"And being gay doesn't? Baby, I'm not trying to invalidate what you have to go through, but I never expected things to be easy. And I don't want easy, okay? I just want you and me. The way we are."

Leaning forward, Mason rests his head on his shoulder. Jamie wraps his arms around him, tucking him into his chest and kissing his curls.

"I love you, sweetheart. All of you. Does that answer your question?"

Mason nods and keeps holding on.

Eventually, they pull apart so Jamie can continue cleaning Mason up. Now that Jamie has dismissed his doubts, Mason slowly opens up to him; leaning into his touch, responding to what he's saying, and meeting his eyes.

Holding his gaze, Jamie tries to convey just how much Mason means to him and how much he loves him. He leans in and kisses the tip of Mason's nose, making him let out a giggle. It's the cutest sound and seeing him smile tells Jamie that he's going to be okay.

Then Mason sombers as he cups Jamie's face, looking at where his thumb is brushing over his jaw. He's wearing an expression Jamie can't quite place- a mix of amusement, concern, and guilt. "Is this the new look that's 'in'?"

"What?" He looks in the mirror and sees stubble on only half of his face, the other half clean-shaven. He forgot he was in the middle of shaving when Mason showed up the day before. He also sees a small cut where Mason has his thumb- he hadn't realized he nicked himself with the razor.

He rolls his eyes but grins. "Ha ha," he says sarcastically. Then, "Can I kiss you?"

"Yes."

Sliding a hand around the back of his neck, Jamie tugs Mason down into a kiss, his other hand resting on Mason's thigh. Mason's hands sit on Jamie's waist, just above his sweatpants. It's a sweet kiss, one full of love and appreciation.

He's not done taking care of Mason, though, so he pulls back.

"I got most of the dirt and blood off, but for the rest, it'd be best to use the shower."

"Okay."

As they undress, Jamie sees more bruises along Mason's torso, arms, and legs. Injuries that were previously hidden behind his clothes become exposed as he strips. Jamie doesn't comment on it, but he doesn't ignore them.

Instead, he follows him into the bathtub and takes down the showerhead so he can focus on smaller details, like cleaning the possibly infected cut without getting the water in Mason's eyes. After rinsing his body with just water, he uses Mason's body wash to clean away any grime that's left.

"Ow!" Mason yanks his arms away from him. "Stings! Oh, god. It stings."

That's when Jamie realizes there are little cuts and scrapes littered across him. "Shit, sorry!"

He rinses his hands of the soap, then aims the water at Mason's arms to soothe away the sting. Mason slumps into him, resting his head on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. 's not your fault."

He's more cautious after that as he continues washing his body and hair. Then the water's off and Jamie is wrapping Mason in a clean towel, gently drying him off. He wipes down the counter and sits Mason where he was before, so he can apply healing creams once his wounds air dry. While Mason waits, Jamie goes into their rooms to grab clean clothes for him while finally dressing himself. He also grabs a tea and toast with peanut butter, since Mason didn't eat anything for dinner.

Back in the bathroom, Mason is still sitting naked on the counter and he looks up when Jamie enters. He looks exhausted and worn out and Jamie's heart goes out to him. Goes out for all the times Mason had to fight against racism while Jamie wasn't aware it was happening.

Grabbing the polysporin, Jamie starts with the cut on his head while Mason eats.

"Do you want to cuddle after this?"

Mason catches his arm and kisses the inside of his wrist. "I'd love that," he admits quietly.

It's a good thing it's a Saturday and they don't have anything else to do for the rest of the day. They're able to cuddle in Jamie's bed, with a Disney movie playing on his laptop. Wrapped around Mason, Jamie rubs his arms and chest while being mindful of his injuries. He kisses the back of his neck and the slightly damp curls there.

Turning onto his back, Mason looks up at him with a shy smile. "The love of your life?"

"What?"

"Earlier, you called me the love of your life."

"Oh." He blushes. "I mean, yeah? You do know you're my favourite person, right? For the longest time, you and my mom were the only ones I had. Of course, you're the love of my life."

The corners of Mason's mouth twitch until he gives in to the smile. Jamie kisses his cheek, feeling his blush against his lips. Rolling again so they're face to face, he tucks himself into Jamie's chest.

"Are you feeling better?"

Mason hums and nods. "Thank you."