Vanessa
We climb the stairs, him just behind me, until he leads me to his room.
As soon as I walk in, the contrast between the two guys hits me. Mase, who always seems in control, has a room in complete chaos. I can't tell if it's the aftermath of last night or just his usual state.
Like Konnor, he has song papers—but they're scattered all over the room, as if he doesn't bother aiming for the trash bin when he throws them. There are posters of influential musicians from various genres plastered across the walls. His bed is king-sized. On one side, T-shirts arranged by color—and I know exactly who organized them. I let out a soft laugh, because there's a subtle tension between Maeson and me, and I'm not even sure why.
He has a desk with a gaming console and a high-tech computer. On the other side of the bed, a guitar. I take it all in silently, watching him try to pick up the scattered papers, which strikes me as oddly endearing. When he finishes, he looks at me for a moment, as if unsure what to say, and gestures toward the sound system. I nod, and he walks over to put on music. And that's when I notice it.
I watch Maeson approach the sound system, his tall figure turned away from me, and just as he reaches out to turn it on, I spot the makeshift bandage on his palm. My pulse quickens—how long has he been hurt? I walk over almost without thinking and gently take his hand.
"What happened?" I ask softly, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath the bandage.
Maeson doesn't answer right away; instead, he looks at me closely. His eyes seem to search mine for something I'm not sure I'm ready to show. For a second, the world shrinks to that uncomfortable silence and the tiny space between us.
He swallows and finally says:
"It was a dumb accident… cleaning downstairs. Nothing serious."
I move closer, focusing on the improvised bandage covering his palm. It's messy, with frayed edges and barely holding together; as I examine it, I notice blood has seeped through one side. Maeson gently pulls his hand away, trying to downplay it.
"I already took care of it, Vane," he insists, but his voice sounds more uneasy than confident.
I frown, slowly shaking my head and reaching out again.
"Let me see it, please," I whisper.
After a few seconds of hesitation, Maeson nods. He sits on the edge of the bed and extends his hand toward me, accepting my help.
I look around the room for a first aid kit and find a small box with bandages and antiseptic on the desk, right where he keeps his cables and video games. I sit beside him and carefully unwrap the old bandage. The wound isn't deep, but it's bled more than I expected, and the dressing is loose and poorly secured.
"It's not serious, but it won't heal properly like this," I say, wetting a gauze pad with antiseptic and cleaning the wound with gentle movements.
Maeson watches every gesture, a mix of embarrassment and curiosity in his eyes.
"Where'd you learn to do this?" he asks, his voice barely audible.
I smile, feeling the warmth of a memory wash over me.
"Melissa and I learned first aid when we were kids. Sometimes, at home, there was no one around to help us; my grandma used to say it was better to know how to treat wounds than wait for someone else to do it. I remember Melissa chasing me around with a box of bandages and me running away, but in the end, we always managed to fix ourselves up. We learned to clean bruises, scrapes, and wrap almost perfect bandages. Over time, I guess it became a habit. A kind of ritual."
As I speak, I secure the new bandage, adjusting the edges and fastening it with tape. When I look up, I find Maeson's eyes—intense and quiet—locked on me. For a moment, the room seems to freeze; I feel the warmth of his attention and the weight of his trust. Maeson smiles faintly, like he wants to say something but can't find the words.
I feel the atmosphere shift, as if the air has grown heavier. I realize how close we are—I can almost hear his breathing. Just as I think about not stepping back, he does. I don't understand why, but a familiar insecurity floods me, the kind that always makes me wonder if I'm getting everything wrong.
But today I don't want to be left wondering. I gather my courage and ask, almost not recognizing my own voice:
"Is something wrong?"
Maeson lowers his gaze, his fingers nervously fidgeting with the bandage. He seems to avoid my eyes, and for a moment I regret asking. After a silence that feels endless, he replies:
"No… it's not that. I just wanted to ask you something."
Maeson goes quiet for a moment, like he's weighing every word before speaking. I feel him searching my face, but I can't tell what for. Finally, in a barely audible voice, he says:
"Vanessa, you and Konnor…?" he hesitates, pretending to look at the posters. "You're really close, aren't you?"
I frown, not understanding where this is going.
"Close? Well, we're friends, of course. Why do you ask?"
Maeson scratches the back of his neck and gives a half-hearted smile.
"I don't know… you two have great chemistry. I was just wondering if…" his voice trails off, and I feel the discomfort grow. His eyes avoid mine, he tries again—"Is there something more between you?"
I let out a nervous laugh.
"Do you really think that? No, Maeson, Konnor and I are just friends. There's nothing more, and there won't be."
He nods, but the tension remains. Suddenly, I feel my blood boil and cross my arms, annoyed.
"Maeson, I have the right to have friends. Caring about someone doesn't mean I can't talk to others. If you want to know, yes—I do feel something for you. But that doesn't mean I'm going to stop being myself, okay?"
I see his expression shift, but I no longer feel like continuing the conversation. I grab my bag, without looking at him again, and leave the room before he can say anything else.
Maeson's words hit me harder than I expected, and I feel something close off inside me. Suddenly, that old fear—that voice that tells me love only brings pain—takes over my thoughts.
Maeson seems like he wants to stop me, but he can't find the words; he just stands there, watching me leave, unable to break the new silence that's settled between us.