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. Chewing the inside of my lip, I nod, and finally manage to rasp, “I promise.” And I know, deep down to my core… I mean it. If not for me, for him. Always for him. Because I might not be a hero like him, but he is and always has been my kryptonite.
