Weather Together - 2. Chapter 2

A violent crash split the air like a gunshot.

Mason jolted upright on the couch as shattering glass echoed through the dark.

Another blast followed.

Then another.

His head snapped toward Wyatt, but before he could even open his mouth, the wall beside them gave a deep, splintering groan.

Seconds later, the living room window exploded.

Cold wind tore through, whipping the curtains into a frenzy and hurling debris into the walls like fists.

“GET TO THE CLOSET, NOW!” Wyatt’s voice cut through the chaos, his earlier nonchalance erased in an instant.

They bolted down the hallway as Mother Nature’s fury chased after them like a living thing, a monster clawing at their heels. The hallway seemed impossibly long, the noise overwhelming as the walls vibrated with its power.

Another boom echoed behind them as Wyatt yanked open the closet door. They dove inside and slammed it shut, darkness wrapping around them like a second skin.

Mason’s breath came in shallow, ragged bursts as they hurriedly shoved blankets and pillows into the cracks around the door, trying to seal out the storm. The wind shrieked louder than ever, like the tortured wail of some furious, relentless beast. It tore through the broken windows, turning everything into a cacophony of destruction.

The pressure was suffocating, the heavy air making every inhale feel like a battle as Mason sat trembling with his back against the wall.

Across from him, Wyatt was silent, his presence a solid anchor.

But even he couldn’t hide the tension that radiated from his body.

The hurricane battered their home in a merciless rampage. Every gust felt like a hammer blow, shaking the walls, the roof, the very foundation of the house.

Mason's fingers gripped a blanket as he swallowed against the knot in his throat. Shutting his eyes, he tried to focus on the rise and fall of his chest.

For now, they were safe.

But how long could their fragile barrier hold?

The pressure kept building, not just around him, but inside him too. His chest ached with the weight of it, panic curling like smoke through his ribs, slow and suffocating, impossible to hold back.

That was when he heard it.

A soft, broken sound.

He opened his eyes and fumbled for the lantern flashlight, clicking it on when he found it.

Wyatt sat with his head down, his broad shoulders slumped under a weight he could no longer hide. Tears glistened as they traced slow paths down his cheeks.

"I’m sorry, Mase. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

Mason inched closer. “Why?”

“Because you look at me like I can fix anything,” Wyatt replied as he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “That sound. The windows breaking. The way the air felt. It’s the same. It’s exactly the same as Charley.”

He sniffled and raised his head just enough that Mason could see the rawness in his expression. “God, I probably look pathetic.”

“You look like someone I love.”

Wyatt froze for a second, as if all the armor he’d ever worn just dissolved in the dark. “I love you too.”

Mason reached out, his fingers coming to rest on Wyatt's leg.

They sat together as Wyatt scrubbed his face with his shirt, then let out a shaky breath. "Well, we’re back in the closet. Irony’s alive and well."

"You okay?" Mason asked in a soft voice. His thumb traced a small circle over Wyatt's knee.

"I just broke down in front of you while sitting in a utility closet during a natural disaster," Wyatt deadpanned. "So, yeah. I'm doing great. Real peachy."

Mason studied him in the dim light. "For what it's worth, I think you're killing the whole vulnerable lumberjack thing. Very sexy."

"You're ridiculous,” Wyatt snorted.

"I learned from the best."

They fell into silence, both lost in their own thoughts.

Eventually, Wyatt shifted, stretching his legs in the cramped space. Mason adjusted as well, settling between Wyatt’s legs and leaning back against his chest. Wyatt's arms wrapped around him, their shared warmth easing the lingering chill.

Something massive shattered in the distance.

Mason flinched hard, but Wyatt's arms tightened instantly. “I’ve got you.”

Another bang reverberated through the house, followed by the slow, ominous groan of wood giving way.

“How much worse is this gonna get?” Mason asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Wyatt was quiet for a long moment. “I don’t know.”

Mason squeezed his eyes shut.

“But we’re in the safest part of the house,” Wyatt added. “No windows. Reinforced framing. We’ll be okay.”

Mason wasn't sure which one of them Wyatt was trying to reassure.

A sudden cold and wet sensation hit Mason’s leg. He glanced down, then followed the sensation upward to where a thin line of water traced the ceiling joint. As he watched, a fat droplet gathered and fell, landing with a soft plip.

“Leak?” Mason asked.

Wyatt followed Mason’s gaze and nodded grimly. “Roof’s compromised.”

“Is it bad?”

“Not yet.”

Adrenaline surged as Mason sat up. “Do we need to move?”

“No,” Wyatt answered quickly. “We stay put. This is still the safest spot.”

Mason didn’t look convinced. “If the roof caves in and we die, I’m haunting your ass.”

Wyatt chuckled. “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

Another eruption rocked the house. Mason’s body tensed.

“Hey,” Wyatt urged. “Eyes on me.”

Despite the uncertainty and fear coursing through him, Mason managed to meet Wyatt's gaze.

“You’re not alone, Mase. I’ve got you. We’ve got each other.”

Mason blinked back tears as Wyatt continued to speak.

“There’s no one I’d rather be here with than you,” he whispered.

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to Mason’s lips.

The hurricane faded, if only for that fragile instant. Mason sank into the warmth, clinging to it like a lifeline.

Outside, the world twisted into a nightmare.

A rumble rolled through the atmosphere as the wind shifted, jerking in violent, sporadic gusts.

The color drained from Wyatt's face, his eyes wide and distant like he'd heard this before. “Tornado! Get low, now!”

Mason didn’t argue. He flattened himself against the floor of the closet as Wyatt grabbed the thick blanket and threw it over them both.

The full force of the tornado roared over them, a deafening freight train of hellacious fury. The walls vibrated under the strain, bending and wailing in protest.

Above them, the roof cracked like a whip before a gut-wrenching ripping noise filled the air as the ceiling over the living room and kitchen tore clean away.

The pressure in the air changed immediately, popping Mason's ears. Wyatt shifted closer, shielding Mason’s body with his own as more debris slammed into the walls around them.

Then, as suddenly as the tornado appeared, it was gone.

But there was no relief.

Rain now poured directly inside, turning into a relentless torrent that battered their home.

Wyatt threw the blanket off, craning his neck to assess what they were hearing. He grabbed a flashlight and opened the closet door just enough to peer out. Water was gushing into the hallway, the faint sloshing sound quickly intensifying, rising as if they were sinking into the ocean.

“Wyatt? What’s going on?”

“The house is flooding.”

“What?!”

Wyatt turned back to face him. “Storm surge. Or burst levee. Whatever it is, it’s bad.”

The water was already licking at the edges of the closet. Wyatt rose, extending his hand toward Mason and pulling him upright in one smooth motion. “Listen to me. We can’t stay in here. If the water keeps rising, we won’t be able to open the door. We have to move now. But we have to stay calm.”

Mason nodded. “Okay.”

The door was pushed open all the way, the hallway looking like an ankle-deep river as the water rushed in faster than seemed possible. Wyatt grabbed Mason’s hand just as Mason threw on his backpack of essentials, gripping tightly as they stepped into the rising flood.

“I think we can still get to the staircase,” Wyatt said. “We need to get to higher ground.”

They slogged through the floodwater, pushing past floating chairs and the remnants of their home until they reached the stairs. When they made it to the safety of the upper landing, they headed straight for the back bedroom with a window that faced the mangled remains of the roofline.

Wyatt pulled Mason close. “We have to be ready to move again. If the water hits the second—”

“Where would we even go?”

“The only place left. The roof.”

Wyatt’s words hung in the air as Mason stared at him, his pulse hammering in his ears.

“Here’s the plan,” Wyatt explained. “We’re not going up unless we have to. But if we do, we climb out, grab onto the roof where it’s still intact, and pull ourselves up.”

Mason felt his stomach drop. “But—”

“There’s no time to debate this. It’s the only way.”

“Are we… are we really doing this?”

“If we want to survive. I need you to trust me. We’ll get through this.”

“This isn’t how I imagined our first big emergency,” Mason confessed.

“What can I say? I’m a romantic at heart.”

The floor suddenly bucked beneath them, throwing Mason off balance. He lurched forward, but Wyatt caught him instantly, his firm grip anchoring Mason before he could fall.

“The floor is caving,” Wyatt said. “We need to get—”

Before he could finish, an ear-splitting snap erupted. The corner of the room sagged violently, the floor tilting at a sickening angle as the entire house seemed to shift. Mason stumbled again, his heartbeat thundering as he clung to Wyatt’s arm.

“Go!” Wyatt shouted, shoving Mason toward the window. “Now! Before it’s too late!”

Mason clambered over to the wall and forced the window open. Halfway through, he paused. “Wyatt—”

“I’m right behind you!” Wyatt yelled as he reached up, shoving Mason higher onto the roof.

Mason scrambled up and across the wet shingles, then spun around on his knees at the edge. "Come on!"

Wyatt hoisted himself through the window when suddenly his jeans snagged near the ankle. He yanked hard, but it held fast.

“Grab my hand!” Mason stretched down, rain pouring off his face as he reached desperately for Wyatt’s hand. Their fingertips brushed.

A horrific crack ripped through the air.

The floor beneath Wyatt's trapped leg gave way completely, yanking him back inside and out of Mason’s sight.

"WYATT!"