"Where were you, Jeremy?"

Jeremy looks away from his ceiling and to the doorway, to see Elena standing there in a tank top and pajama pants. He'd thought he'd slipped in noiselessly, but apparently he was wrong.

"Why are you still awake?" he asks and looks at the time. "It's two in the morning. Actually, better question; why isn't it Jenna in my doorway?" He takes his hands from behind his head and sits up. He hasn't changed out of his clothes yet, having chosen instead to flop down on top of the bedspread straight away.

"Because," Elena steps in and pushes the door so it's not quite closed, and makes her way over to sit on the end of his bed, one leg folded underneath her, "I was worried. And I covered for you. Why are you back so late?"

Jeremy shrugs. He doesn't want to tell Elena that he and Tyler have made up just yet. He wants to lay back down on his bed with his hands behind his head, and think about his day. He wants to close his eyes and remember how Tyler had looked at him through sleepy eyes, and how he'd kept giving him those side glances as he'd driven them to a place out of town to eat. Nowhere special, Tyler had said, just a small diner he used to go to with his dad when he was younger (although, Jeremy thinks it might be a little special; it seems to be one of the few good memories Tyler has of his father). He wants to think about how comfortable he'd felt with him, or about that certain smile Tyler gives him sometimes. The one that lights his eyes up and, for a second, makes him appear younger, childlike in it's sheer brilliance.

Jeremy wants to lay back and relive the way he'd felt waking up with one arm asleep, one shoe hanging off, and the scent and feel of Tyler surrounding him.

But Elena looks like she isn't leaving until she's reassured that he's alright. And he wants her to leave so he can lay back and stay in his bubble of happiness. Just for tonight.

"I was with Tyler," he says, hoping his relaxed tone will inspire the same in his sister.

No such luck.

Her eyes harden slightly, and her lip twists to the side. "Are you sure that's smart, Jere?"

He nods and moves to lay back down. "Mmmmmhmm." She waits but he doesn't say anymore. She opens her mouth to say something more, but he heads her off. "We talked about it. We're over it. We're guys remember. No drama."

Elena snorts at that. "Yeah, because you're so drama free." She says it teasingly, but it hits a small part somewhere inside of him.

He knows he's emotional.

He can't help it, and he hates dealing with it. His irrational emotions are the reason why he and Tyler ended up not talking for three days longer than needed. It was a small thing this time, but what about next time? What will happen the next time he overreacts? Tyler was okay with it this time, had let it go easily even though, despite his valid excuse, Jeremy still hadn't been understanding; but what about when Jeremy becomes too difficult to handle? What will happen when his mind continues to go on automatic and starts to insert false reasons and intentions into everything Tyler says? What if he starts over thinking, over analyzing?

He doesn't know why he's bothering to ask himself these questions. He knows what will happen; he'll leave. Tyler will leave, be gone, just like nearly everyone else Jeremy has cared about.

So much for his bubble of happiness.

He must have stayed silent for longer than he thought because he can see Elena's smile fade in the darkness of the room, and she says gently, "Hey, I was just kid-"

"It's okay. I'm just tired."

'Jere-"

"Elena. It's late. I just want to sleep." He closes his eyes, but he can sense her confusion at his abrupt change in mood. She doesn't move for a few moments, but Jeremy keeps his eyes closed and soon he feels the bed dip and rise as she gets up. He waits until he hears the door close behind her to open his eyes again.

He stares up at the ceiling bathed in moonlight. He'll just try harder, he decides. He'll try harder to think rationally, not to get too angry or annoyed. Jeremy finds himself a little surprised that this is the first time that he's actually had this thought. He's never felt the need to edit himself, to hold back, and he's not sure how he feels about having to do so with Tyler. Shouldn't it be the reverse? Shouldn't he feel like he can be himself the most when he's with him, more than anyone else?

And Tyler hasn't complained; he actually seems to enjoy when Jeremy is completely open, but Jeremy wants to be sure. He doesn't want to ruin this. He doesn't want to be susceptible to dramatic tendencies anymore. He's tired of being that guy.

Satisfied with his decision, Jeremy sits up to removes his shirt before laying back down. He adjusts himself to resemble how he'd lain in Tyler's bed that afternoon, and imagines he can feel the weight of the boy on top of him.

He closes his eyes again, and smiles to himself best he can through a yawn.

=..=..=

Tyler has shut the front door and is halfway to the stairs when he hears his uncle call for him from the parlor.

He throws his keys into the bowl near the doorway as he walks inside of the large, ornate room. "Yeah?" The minute he steps inside the hairs on the back of neck stands up. Ever since his uncle had rolled back into town, Tyler has gotten weird vibes from him. Every conversation they've had as of late, be it about sports or the 'Lockwood curse' (which seems to have way more meaning behind it than Mason is letting on), has been shrouded by a certain something that Tyler can never really pin point. All he knows for sure is that he edits himself around Mason. While his uncle probably thinks he's an idiot, Tyler knows enough to know that he can't be entirely trusted.

"You're back pretty late." Mason is standing next to what used to be his brother's desk. In his hand is an autographed baseball from some player Tyler's never heard of, but whom his father loved. He has a quick urge to tell Mason to put the ball back on it's stand, but he ignores it.

Instead, slightly confused at the statement, he looks over at the clock, and back at his uncle. "Yeah, I guess. It's two-thirty." After their impromptu nap, he and Jeremy had gotten cleaned up, and headed out to have dinner. Afterwards they'd driven around and ended up in the woods by the clearing near the lake, and they'd lost track of time.

"Your mother told me on weekends it's two."

Tyler laughs slightly, uncomfortably, still feeling uneasy. "That rule hasn't been followed since I was fifteen. It's no big deal." Mason doesn't say anything, just tosses the ball into the air repeatedly, and Tyler waits. "Did you stay up in here just to tell me that?" He doesn't receive an answer and his annoyance and unease mounts quickly. "Well, if that's all..." Tyler starts to turn away, but stops at the next words out of his uncle's mouth.

"What did Jeremy Gilbert want? Earlier, when he came over?"

Tyler forces his shoulders to relax, and he turns his head to the side when he answers. "Nothing, really. Just had to settle some things."

"Like what?"

Tyler turns around fully, and eyes Mason. He's still playing with the damn ball, throwing it up in the air lazily and catching it. "Just stuff." Tyler says carefully. The air in the room feels heavier, if that's even possible, and Tyler can feel himself tensing again. They both watch the ball go up and down for a few moments, until Mason breaks the silence, and Tyler's desperate hopes that he doesn't know anything are washed down the drain. "What would your father say? Or better yet, your mother? We both know she's not the most open minded person."

Tyler forces himself to blink slowly as he gathers his thoughts. He tries to stay relaxed and controlled, but it's not working. The tone of his uncle's voice to the untrained ear is congenial, but Tyler can hear something else. That taint of something he can't quite place, the same thing he hasn't been able to identify even after spending a fair amount of time around Mason.

"Say about what?" he asks in a low voice.

Mason stops throwing the ball, and looks directly at Tyler. "Don't play stupid, Tyler. Maybe your boyfriend finds it cute, but I don't appreciate it."

Tyler's nostrils flare, and he wants to say he doesn't appreciate this. All these questions about his personal business, Mason sweeping into town and trying to mess with his life. Instead, he grits out through a tight jaw, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Mason stares at him blankly before letting out a humorless laugh. "Right." He draws the word out a bit and takes a few ambling steps forward. "Right, okay. Listen. I get it. I do. Experimentation and all that." His voice has changed; it's casual and he's speaking as if he's trying to be relatable, but it still sets Tyler's teeth on edge and cause his muscles to tense. "I never did it quite like that, but hey, everyone's got their things, their... vices." He sets the baseball down on the desk, next to the stand it rested on originally, and pushes the rolled cuffs of his sleeves further up his arms. "Just don't make a habit of it. Get it out of your system now."

Get it out of his system? Get Jeremy out of his system? How do you get someone who's been running rampant in your veins before you even realized, out? Those are his first thoughts, but then he pushes them aside to concentrate on his anger. To have his confusion, actions, and decisions summed up in such a simple, cliched phrase makes Tyler's blood boil.

He wants to say Jeremy isn't some phase; that even though the odds are against them being 'together forever' and that they most likely will end this someday, he'll always be important. Tyler wants to say he isn't romanticizing anything, but he's not going to just throw Jeremy aside. But before he can, his uncle is speaking again. "Not that there's anything wrong with that lifestyle. It's just not for you." His eyes harden and he smiles in a way that makes Tyler want to punch him in his face, but all he can do is stand there, shell shocked. "But yeah," Mason walks forward now and claps him on the shoulder. "Get Jeremy out of your system, sooner rather than later, and let it go. Or... I could always help to get rid of him." The threatening undertone to the last sentence makes Tyler's blood run cold. He thinks his uncle is going to walk around him now, but instead he makes sure their eyes are locked, and he squeezes Tyler's shoulder tightly, before he says in a voice that causes unpleasant chills to run up and down Tyler's spin, "Unless you want to find that moonstone. Or give it to me, as I'm sure you've already found it and for whatever reason haven't handed it over yet." His voice drops ever lower. "I would hate for your mother to find out about this, Tyler. About your indiscretions," he sneers around the word. "I mean, I doubt she could handle it. Who knows how she will react, what she might do. It just might break her heart."

And with that, he walks around his nephew and into the hallway, leaving Tyler to try and sift through all the threats, a dull ache running through his body, and a rushing in his ears.