It began small.
Mek stopped drawing.
Stopped talking.
Stopped looking Pete in the eyes.
He smiled, sure—
Fake. Automatic.
Like a mask held together with spit and desperation.
Pete noticed. Of course he did.
But Mek kept saying: "I'm fine."
And Pete kept pretending to believe him. Until...
---
Three Days Later
Mek snapped.
The coffee mug shattered.
Not by accident.
He threw it. Across the kitchen.
Glass exploded like fireworks.
Pete stood frozen at the door.
Mek stood in the middle of the chaos, fists trembling, tears already streaming down.
"I can't—" Mek gasped. "I can't breathe, Pete."
Pete crossed the room in two steps, grabbing him, holding him like Mek was about to fall apart into dust.
"You're safe," Pete whispered. "You're safe, baby."
But Mek pulled away.
"No, I'm not! Everyone's staring at us, judging us, and even when I close my eyes, I still hear them! The reporters, my parents, your friends—him! Beam's voice is in my goddamn head, Pete!"
Pete just cupped his cheeks. Gently.
"And what do you hear from me?" he asked.
Mek's lip trembled.
"That you love me…"
"Say it again."
"That you love me."
"And I do," Pete said, voice firm. "Even when you spiral. Even when you break. I'm not going anywhere."
Mek broke then. Fully.
Collapsed into Pete's chest, sobbing.
Raw. Loud. Ugly.
And Pete held him like he was made of glass and gold at the same time.
---
Later That Night
Mek sat in the tub.
Warm water. Dim lights.
Pete behind him, arms wrapped around his waist. Both of them bare, but it wasn't about sex.
It was about silence. Safe silence.
"I'm scared, Pete," Mek whispered.
"I know."
"What if this gets worse?"
"Then we fight harder."
"What if I lose myself?"
Pete pressed a kiss to Mek's shoulder. "Then I'll hold you until you remember who you are."