Jonathan stared at the broken man before him, his heart breaking, as it always seemed to, when this particular man was involved. "Look, I know you've been hurt. I know. But that's not me, Mayson. That's not me." His voice cracked the want and need to express this ache, this need for only him.

Mayson looked into the eyes of the man that he'd known so long he knew more of his secrets than his own. A tear slipped passed his eyelid and he looked away. He hated crying in front of him.

Mayson bit his lip hard trying to reign in his raging emotions. He was losing that battle and he knew it, but he couldn't let the winds sweep him up. Not yet.

Mayson gasped when he felt soft fingers along his cheek, and cursed himself for flinching away in a sudden flurry of fear now so ingrained into him, he didn't realize he'd done it until it was too late.

"Mayson, I'm not gonna hurt you."

He was close again. In his personal space. He knew he was safe but his heart was pounding exponentially behind his ribs. He nodded, not trusting himself to speak as he felt those soft fingers again.

"It's okay."

"Jonathan."

Jonathan stopped his movements hearing the fear in Mayson's plea.

Mayson looked at him, his best friend of so many years, not bothering to hide the emotions in his eyes or the tears on his cheeks.

Slowly Jonathan brought his hand up not missing Mayson's darting eyes from his hand to his face. Jonathan stopped midway, his voice whispered, his eyes unwavering.

"I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm not gonna hurt you."

In a moment of trust and needed intimacy of nonviolent hands, Mayson didn't stop him again. Jonathan kept close eyes on this beautiful, fragile creature in front of him, not wanting to scare him into running, and wiped away Mayson's tears.

"Look at me, Mayson," he gently commanded. He complied. "I've known you since we were seventeen years old. I fell in love with you before I even knew what love was. I've...watched you go from asshole to fuckboy and back again and...I always wondered why? Why couldn't you just love me back?"

Jonathan's eyes blurred and cleared as his tears met Mayson's at their feet.

"I'd never treat you like these assholes. I'd never cheat on you. God, I'd never fucking hit you, Mayson, ever."

Jonathan pulled Mayson into his chest, wrapping his arms around him and placing a small kiss atop his chestnut hair. He smelled like strawberries and coconuts and his own unique scent that drove Jonathan crazy.

"If I'd have known he was doing that to you, Mayson...if I'd have known...please believe me....I..." He trailed off and shook his head, his eyes sad and overflowing. He ran his fingers lightly through Mayson's hair. "I noticed things...I had to of...I'd ask if you were okay 'cause you were acting strange...jumpy...but I never pushed you for an answer. I should have stopped him sooner. I'm sorry, Mayson. God, I'm so sorry."

Jonathan held Mayson's face gently in his hands and studied it. He was beautiful, even with the faint bruises still showing up against pale skin.

Lightly he kissed his forehead, his lips lingering a moment too long.

"It's not your fault, Jonny," Mayson whispered, swiping his thumb across Jonathan's high cheekbones, erasing the fallen saltwater. "I love you, too, Jonathan. I love you so much. You light up every dark corner of my soul. But we can't work. We can't work because I'm too broken. You deserve so much more than I could ever offer you. You deserve so much more than me."

"Can you offer me your heart? Every shattered and broken piece?"

Mayson nodded and averted his eyes. He thought he could. Maybe. He wanted to. But that terror was fresh and close to the surface. Images of past beatings and pain. Jonathan's words were muddled as if he were speaking underwater, and Mayson felt as if he just might drown in it.

"That's all I want, baby. The rest we can learn together." Jonathan's voice wavered as he spoke.

Mayson shook his head in sudden denial and backed up out of Jonathan's arms. It was all too much. What he ran away from. Who he ran to. The cocktail mixture of emotions each left in their own, unique wake. His eyes were wild, feral in a way that made Jonathan think at any moment he'd have to chase him down the darkened roads of his neighborhood.

He wrapped his arms around himself in an effort to not feel the desolate absence of Jonathan's safety. A safety he yearned for. Ran to. Ran from.

He didn't deserve safety. He didn't deserve love. He was something to be used and thrown away. That's what had always happened. His own parents didn't even want him. Not to love. His father loved to paint his skin black and blue and his mother loved his body with hers. He shuddered at the memory of her on top of him, her hands sliding against sweaty skin.

Mayson hit the wall behind him, sliding down as his knees gave out. He curled up tightly against himself, arms wrapped vice-like around his legs as he tried to dispel the whispering within his head. He wanted to scream. But he couldn't breathe.

Jonathan watched Mayson back away, his pale face drawn and tear-stained. He watched as Mayson curled up into himself and watched as his breathing became erratic.

"Mayson..." Jonathan said gently.

Mayson jumped backward as if struck by a violent clash of a whip, a terrified yelp escaping his lips as his back slammed into the wall behind him.

Mayson covered his head trying to protect himself from blows only occurring in his mind.

"Mace, you have to breathe. You're gonna hyperventilate. Mace, come on, love, breathe."

He wasn't getting through and he knew it. He had to get closer to his friend. Jonathan sighed, took a steadying breath of his own, and plunged into the battlefield. He remembered what he'd done when they were little more than kids. He'd do it this time and hope it had the same results.

He sat down less than a foot away, took a deep breath, and sang. The song, an old Scottish tune his grandmother taught him as a small boy, always gave him comfort. As it did Mayson so many years ago.

"Sing me a song of a lass that is gone. Say could that lass be I? Merry of soul she sailed on a day over the sea to Skye...."

As he sang, he scooted closer and closer to his love. Slowly moving forward with each verse before finally reaching him.

Mull was a stem
Rum on the port
Egge on the starboard bow
Glory of youth glowed in his soul
Where is that glory now....

Jonathan did not, however, make physical contact until the song was over. His voice was a beautiful, rich baritone, full of life, and soothing vibes.

Mayson felt himself unwind, his tears slowed, his breathing evened. His human ball wasn't so tight, though intact, but his fingertips were no longer in a bruising hold.

At the song's end, Mayson felt soft fingers along his back, warm and safe and comforting, and threw himself into their locking protection. He clung to Jonathan in horror-filled desperation.

"Don't leave, Jonny, don't leave me. I'm scared, Jonny. I don't wanna be scared anymore. I don't wanna be scarred anymore."

His tears rained full force, his small frame riddled with violent quaking of fear and past pain.

"Why couldn't they love me?! Why did they teach me this is all I'm worth? Why is this all I'm worth, Jonathan? I wanna be worth more than this!"

His screaming was muffled against Jonathan's shirt but he heard him clearly enough.

"Oh, Mayson, baby...you are."

Mayson shook his head, his face hidden, curled up around the only person who'd ever made him smile. He cried for his past. He cried for his present. He cried from the beautiful lies Jonathan whispered in his ear.

"You are, Mace. You're so much more to me." Jonathan pulled back to look into Mayson's eyes. Slowly he reached up to wipe his face. Mayson flinched and looked away, shame flooding his features.

"Sh, sh, baby boy. I'll never hurt you, Mayson." Lightly he kissed his forehead. "Mayson, look at me, please." Moss green, red-rimmed eyes met deep chocolate and gold-flecked orbs.

"I love you, Mayson Alexander. You're my whole world. My sun and moon. You're the center of my being. I'll never raise my hand to you in anger...and I'd never force you to do anything you didn't want to do. Never. Please believe and know that."

Mayson nodded, keeping eye contact, fighting the urge to look away.

"I know you wouldn't. You're the only one who never has. How can you still love me, Jonny, after all the times I've hurt you?" He always knew that each lover he'd had, had been an insult on top of injury in Jonathan's eyes. He was also aware of how much it hurt him every time he came running to him like this.

Jonathan smiled crookedly. "Oh, my love, I forgave anything you could ever do long, long ago. I love you, Mace. That's part of what real love is."

Mayson didn't say anything but tightened his hold around his anchor. Before he met Jonathan all he knew was pain.

Jonathan.

He didn't understand why he bothered. Why he ever bothered.

It pained him to know he'd caused so much pain to the only one who had never hurt him. He knew in his heart that he loved Jonathan, but that fact and that feeling scared him shitless, and that fear was great.

He didn't deserve Jonathan. It was only a matter of time before he realized it too.