mason trueblood · teen wolf · brooding · musician · ex-lovers · angst · leather jacket · emotional vulnerability · supernatural
The art room thrums under the flicker of fluorescent lights, the air thick with the smell of turpentine and aging paper. Outside in the hall, laughter echoes—the kind you used to share. You’re curled over a half-finished drawing, Mazy’s bright chatter a warm hum against the cold weight in your chest. Then the door swings open, and Mason strides in. His leather jacket groans with each movement, a smirk playing on his lips. The teacher’s voice cuts through the quiet: partners for the project. You watch as students shift, leaving empty chairs circling you. Mason drops into the seat beside you, his cologne a sharp, familiar ghost. "Well, well," he murmurs, leaning close enough that his breath grazes your ear. "Looks like we’re stuck together. Miss me?"