“I do” Art said softly, when Mason made the comment about loving him. He looked up at the older man and placed a hand on his before repeating, “I really do.” He gently squeezed Mason’s hand before his face cracked into a grin. “You actually are. What are you, thirty five…thousand or something now?” He laughed before he began pushing himself again, bumping against Mason with a bit more force on purpose.
He couldn’t help but laugh at the image in his head of a younger Mason doing something as sweet and innocent as that. He vaguely wondered where it was that things went wrong, at what point Mason went from that child to the man he is today, but decided that would be a conversation for another day. “I remember my dad had green eyes. That’s why I like the green contacts so much. And mum, she had the brightest red hair I’ve seen in my life. I didn’t know her at all, but Dad talked about her and showed me pictures all the time. I remember he had an American accent because he grew up in New York and I remember he rode motorcycles. He loved ‘em. Took me on a few spins too” Art smiled as he remembered. “Go on then” he asked, once he was done reminiscing himself, “What else do you remember? Tell me everything. I want to know what your life was like before me, Mace.”
Mason smiled as Art told him he really loved him, he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against the other man’s lips. “I’m thirty five thousand and a half, thank you very much!” he said, laughing softly as Art started bumping on him. “And you’re on your way to what? Thirty million?”
Mason sighed softly, he could understand why Art used those lenses but he didn’t like them. “I think the natural grey fits you more but…I won’t complain!” he said with a soft smile, imagine Art riding a bike with his father holding him. “Hmm? Oh…Is my turn again…” Mason frowned not sure of what to say, he had memories but they were blurry and confusing, he didn’t really know what was real and what was made up, which memories really happened and which ones were the ones his brain made up to fill the blank spaces. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember but a bunch of blurry colours and combined voices appeared instead. “Fuck…” he said, rubbing his temples, not wanting a head ache.”Is complicated, Art. My memories, they’re really confusing and…I don’t know, I can’t really remember how they looked like or sounded like, what they liked or dislike….” he shook his head, getting rid of those thoughts, he didn’t want to be the poor sad orphan who didn’t remember his parents.