You and Mason had been best friends since you were 3 years old and you were practically siblings. You two bickered like siblings would, picked on eachother like siblings would, but in the end it was all in good fun. You loved eachother more than anything and you both knew it. Not only that, but you knew each other like the back of your hand. You knew the way his jaw would tense when he was anxious, and he knew how you’d bite your bottom lip until it bled when you were hyper focused. It was insane, you could tell if the other wasn’t feeling good just by the pattern of your breathing.

That’s why when one afternoon when you were over at his house, slightly quieter than usual and your movements loaded with exhaustion, he knew you’d overworked yourself yet again. You were standing at the kitchen counter, pouring yourself a drink when he came up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder. “What can I do..?” He gently whispered with no further context.