And while I still see glimmers of that strong, fiercely protective boy inside him, I know better than to think he’s not without his weaknesses. Every superhero has their kryptonite. And Mason’s? Well, in some ways, I guess you could say we’re cut from the same cloth. Like flocks to like. Only the whispers in his head, clawing around his airway, aren’t born of fears of being perceived the wrong way. Whereas I can barely stomach people looking at me sometimes, Mason’s got a touch of the opposite. He’s terrified of people looking away. Of being left alone.
