That day, Mason Garrett had scored the winning goal for his school in the football state championship. Cheers had come up from all over the bleachers, and he'd been celebrated by his teammates in the locker room afterwards. But now, as he walked back to his car in the parking lot after the game, you'd think he'd just had a mildly bad day at school.

"Here he comes! The winning goal!" his boyfriend Max cheered happily, standing next to Mason's car, "Congrats babe!" They'd been dating for a few months now, and things were going pretty well. But right now, Mason didn't really take notice of him, instead just getting in the car and starting it. Max's face fell when he didn't get a response. He got in the passenger seat with a confused look on his face.

"Babe? You okay?" he asked, putting his hand on top of Mason's as it laid on the stick shift.

Mason barely looked at him. "Hm? Yeah I'm…I'm fine," he said, as if he'd just been awoken from a daydream, "let's just go home." He slipped his hand from under Max's and onto the steering wheel.

"O-okay," Max said, concerned. He buckled his seatbelt and Mason pulled out of their spot. It was a silent ride over to Mason's house. Max occasionally glanced over at Mason, trying to read his face for any signs of what was going on to no avail. Eventually he gave up, sighed and sat back in his seat. Finally they got to Mason's house, where they'd planned for a small celebratory date for after the game.

Mason got out of the car and went inside, not saying a word to his boyfriend. Max got out as well and followed him into the house and up the stairs to his room. He closed the door behind him, and when he turned around Mason grabbed his face and kissed him hard. Max kissed him back for a few seconds, enjoying it for a bit before remembering his mood. He pulled back and looked his boyfriend in the eyes. "Something's wrong," he said worriedly, "what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Mason said, a bit annoyed, "let's just…" He kissed him again, harder this time, but Max pulled back quicker than before.

"Mason," he said, his voice serious, "what's wrong?"

"I said nothing," Mason maintained, "I just wanna be with you right now." He tried to kiss him again, but Max dodged it and gently pulled his hands off his cheeks.

"Mason," Max repeated, "I know you. I know when something's going on. Talk to me."

"No," Mason snapped, raising his voice, "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Hey!" Max exclaimed in surprise, "Please don't use that tone. I just want to know."

"Max…" he trailed off and sighed, then sat down on the bed, looking at his knees. The room was silent for only a few seconds, but in those few seconds time seemed to flow like molasses. Finally, Max broke the silence, sensing what the problem was about. "Is…is it about your parents?"

Mason didn't say anything, but he visibly tensed up and gripped his knees tightly. Max sighed and sat down next to him. "Mason, you know you can talk to me about it," he said softly, putting a hand on his back, but Mason shrugged it away, "remember what I said. You're allowed to have feelings too. You can't keep everything bottled up inside. It's okay to be sad, and it's especially okay to talk about it. So talk about it."

"Later, Max, please," Mason mumbled, putting his hands on his face.

"No," Max said sternly, "you've put this conversation off for too long now. I've asked about it and asked about it and every single time you dismiss it, told me we'd talk about it later. Well this is later. Now's the time."

But Mason huffed and stood up, walking over to the other side of the room. "I can't talk about this," he muttered, "I don't…I don't deserve to."

"What did I just say? Yes you do!" Max said, "Of course you deserve to!"

"No!" Mason suddenly shouted and turned around to face his boyfriend, anger showing clearly on his face, "I don't deserve to! I'm rich! I'm popular! I'm privileged! I've had everything handed to me while other people have it so much worse! I shouldn't be complaining about stupid stuff like my parents when there are people who don't even have parents to complain about!"

"So it is about your parents," Mason sighed, looking up at the bigger boy, "what happened?"

Mason bit his lip regretfully. "I didn't mean to say that," he said, then sighed, "they…they didn't show up to the game. But it's whatever. I don't care."

Max stood up. "Babe," he said delicately, "you clearly care."

"No! I don't care!" Mason exclaimed in frustration, "I don't care! I stopped caring a while ago!" He crossed his arms and muttered, "They don't care, so I don't either."

"Mason, I'm sure your parents–" Max started to say, but Mason stopped him.

"No, you're not sure," Mason interrupted, "they don't care, and they've shown they don't care for as long as I remember. They go on their little business trips, leaving nothing but a text or a post-it on the fridge for me to find when I come home from school. Not even a-" His voice broke, but he composed himself and continued distantly, "Not even a goodbye. They don't care about me, so I don't care about them."

He sighed. "All this 'woe is me' crap is insane coming from me," he kept going, "that's why I don't like talking about it. There are so many other people with worse problems than me. I should appreciate what I have. The life that my parents have given me. I shouldn't complain."

Max walked towards him. "Babe, that's…that's sad," he said, "I mean, I knew your parents weren't around a lot, but it's much more than that. Just because you grew up rich or something doesn't mean your problems are invalid. C'mere…" He put his hands out and tried to hug him, but Mason just brushed his hands away.

"No, not now," Mason snapped, "I'm not even in the mood for anything anymore." He sighed angrily and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I just…I don't wanna talk about it anymore. I wanna be alone. Just leave Max, please."

Max was taken aback. He didn't want to leave his boyfriend here, sad and alone. "No, I'm not leaving," Max protested, "I'm not leaving just so you can wallow in your own sadness and then stuff it all back in its little box. I want to stay here, to talk to you. I'm not going."

Suddenly, Mason grabbed Max's wrist, "I said," he growled through gritted teeth, gripping his boyfriend's wrist hard, "leave." Then he began pulling him roughly towards the bedroom door.

"HEY!" Max yelled angrily, wrenching his wrist away from Mason's grip, "Don't touch me like that! You do not put your hands on me like that, understand? What's gotten into you?"

Mason huffed and stepped up to Max, looking down at him. "Nothing's gotten into me," he grunted sharply, "I just want you to leave. Now." He grabbed his wrist and tried to pull him towards the door again, but Max shoved him off this time, stumbling back onto the bed. He looked up at his boyfriend with horror and disbelief.

"I said, don't put your hands on me like that," Max repeated indignantly "this isn't you, Mason. Just because you're not in the mood to talk about your feelings or something doesn't mean you get to pull me away like that!" His voice rose as he talked, getting angrier with every word. "You don't get to yell at me for trying to help you! I just want you to share your problems with your boyfriend! For you to talk about your feelings for once in your godd*mn life! Is that so hard!? Since you say you're so rich, why don't you just get a therapist huh!? That way you'll finally speak your mind without feeling bad about being privileged or something!" Suddenly he realized what he said. He covered his mouth in surprise and regret. But Mason didn't notice.

"Oh, you wanna yell now!?" Mason exclaimed furiously, "FINE! Just because I'm your boyfriend doesn't mean I have to tell you every single thing I think or feel! You think you can fix every single problem in your life!? Well guess what! You don't get to fix me! You don't get to pick me apart and put me back together like some sort of messed-up science project! You want me to see a therapist!? FINE! I would prefer seeing some crazy twisted shrink than talking to you about my feelings! Now GET OUT!" He was shouting by the end of his rant, practically screaming it in Max's face.

He was clearly hurt. He was lashing out. He didn't mean it. At least that's what Max told himself to keep back his tears. "Mason, no, I–" he tried to apologize, but Mason cut him off.

"NO! GET OUT!" he screamed, storming over to the door and opening it, "I wanna be alone! ALONE! Just LEAVE!" His voice was shaking and his eyes were brimming with tears. "Please Max, just…just go."

Max looked at him with sadness and regret. He was hurt, but he knew he didn't mean it. Hopefully. So instead of protesting further, he just nodded, sniffling, and walked out of the room. He turned back one more time, hoping he'd let him in again and they could apologize about everything, but Mason just slammed the door in his face.

Max just stared blankly at the door as if trying to see through it, then turned and leaned against it, sliding down onto the floor. He could hear Mason inside, stomping around and yelling at himself. Eventually the stomping stopped and he could hear faint sobbing, then nothing.

He wiped away his tears and stood up. He faced the door again, unsure of what to do. He reached out a hand to the doorknob, thinking about coming inside…but pulled back, figuring it would be a bad decision. He took a shaky breath, tears beginning to fall from his eyes again, and turned around. He went down the stairs, out the front door and onto the street, crying all the while. He practically ran home, then shut himself in his room. He hugged his pillow, dampening it with his tears, and eventually fell asleep.

A few hours later, when it finally started getting dark, he was startled awake by a knock on his door. His parents usually got home around 6:30, but he glanced at the clock and it was barely 5:45. He assumed it was his mother, home from work early and probably asking about dinner. He sighed and pulled his pillow closer. "I'm not hungry mom," he began as he heard the door open, then looked up.

"Max." Mason stood in the doorway, looking at him. His face was puffy from crying and dried tears stood out on his face in streaks. He was fidgeting, clearly nervous, but he looked straight at Max. "I'm…" he started, but his voice broke. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry. For everything. I-I'm sorry about what I said, and about what I did. I…I didn't mean it. Any of it. Please forgive me."

Max stared back at him, sniffling. He sat up in his bed and turned so his legs hung off the side, then he patted the spot beside him. "Come, sit," he said, "let's talk."

Mason nodded and walked over, then sat on the bed. He looked down at his knees, but Max quickly said, "Mason. Look at me." He looked at him, sadness and regret plastered all over his face.

Max put his hand on Mason's thigh and took a breath, then started. "First off, I want to say sorry about what I said. I thought about it, and…and I shouldn't have pressured you to talk about something when you clearly weren't comfortable talking about it."

Mason began to protest, "No, Max, it's my-"

"No," Max stopped him, "it was my fault. But, I do want to talk about what happened."

Mason nodded again. "I'm really, really sorry Max," he apologized, "I just…I shouldn't have said any of that. I wasn't really angry. I was just…sad."

"I know babe," Max said, now stroking his back with his hand, "but that's an explanation, not a justification."

"Yeah, I know," Mason sniffled, "and you were totally right. I shouldn't have put my hands on you like that. At all. I regretted it the moment I did it. I feel disgusted with myself. I really hope you'll forgive me, but…I understand if you can't."

"No, hey, c'mon," Max said, taking Mason's hands in his own, "I wanna work through this. I want to forgive you, but first I wanna talk about it. So…can we talk about it?" He didn't say exactly what "it" was, but they both knew.

Mason nodded. "Yeah, I just…" he sniffled, and his voice wavered, "it's just hard to talk about it because…because most of the time I just feel like I got everything just handed to me, y'know? So if I have all of this, I shouldn't complain. From another perspective, it seems like I have the perfect life. But it just…it doesn't feel like…like…"

And the dam broke.

When Max saw the tears flowing down his boyfriend's face, he wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tight. Mason hugged his boyfriend back hard, putting his face down on his head. It started as a trickle, quiet sniffles and only a few teardrops, then the walls began to crack. He cried harder, hugging Max tighter, and began to sob into the boy's hair. They just sat there, on Max's bed, crying and letting it all out for what felt like hours.

"They were just…they were never there," Mason cried quietly, "I was raised by n-nannies and TV. Sometimes the only time I'd see them was…was at dinner, if anything. I can count on one hand the amount of times…the amount of times they've told me they love me. Sometimes it feels like they f-forget I exist. Sometimes…sometimes it feels like they n-never wanted a kid in the first place." He sobbed again, burying his face in Max's hair.

"Oh baby," Max cooed, gently stroking his hands up and down his boyfriend's back, "I'm sure that's not true…"

"I just…I just wanna be wanted," Mason sobbed, "I j-just want someone to hug me and t-tell me that they're here for m-me…that they…that they love me…" He held Max tighter in his arms, squeezing him gently like a beloved teddy bear.

Max's mind reeled for a moment at the mention of love. They hadn't gotten quite there yet, but…they'd been dating for a couple months now, almost a year, and he really really liked him, just being with him. And he'd been thinking about "the L-word" too…

"Mason, baby," he said softly, "I'm here for you, I want you, I…I love you."

I love you.

The words rang out through the bigger boy's head. Unbeknownst to Max, he'd been thinking about "the L-word" as well. He hadn't said anything yet for fear they might be going too fast, but now that Max had said it…

"You…you love me?" Mason sniffled.

Max froze, suddenly wondering if he should've said that. But he wanted to be honest. "Y-yeah, I do," he said, and pulled back a bit, now looking up into his boyfriend's eyes, "is…is that okay?"

Mason smiled, his tears drying on his cheeks, and kissed the smaller boy. "Of course it's okay," he said as he pulled back, "I love you too. So, so much."

But instead of replying, Max just kissed him again. This time deeply and without holding back, letting out all his love and passion for the other boy. Mason kissed him back, now holding his face and pressing it against his own. They fell back on the bed, still kissing, and Max maneuvered himself on top of him and straddled him.

Mason broke the kiss for a moment and smiled up at Max. "Does this mean you forgive me?"

Max chuckled. "Of course I forgive you, dumb*ss," he said, "and I love you. I love you I love you I love you." He kissed him again, now feeling Mason's hands run through his hair and wander on his body so tenderly and so lovingly that he knew…

They were alright again.