Mason twiddled his thumbs as he awaited the familiar sound of a car rolling onto his driveway. It was the 15th of December, a cold, dark, miserable day but also a date that he wouldn't forget.

After almost ten days in hospital, his mother was finally coming home, and he was just as nervous as he was ecstatic. In the time since he'd visited, Mason had decided to re-decorate the house. He'd not seen his father or heard from him outside of the occasional courtesy updates, and so he didn't have a parent to disagree with his decision.

Considering the conversation, Mason had shared with his mother, however, he doubted that they'd be upset. As a result, the strange gaps between the pictures that lined the walls no longer existed, and photos of Haneul had reclaimed their place. Mason had also removed the stashes of wine he knew his mother kept, and the soju had disappeared from the fridge. It wasn't going to stop her from drinking, should she relapse, but he could at least remove temptation.

The wind howled, and fresh rain sprayed against the window, causing the clouds' shadows to darken the outside world. The flash of headlights, however, could not be obscured, and he was quickly on his feet, unlatching the door and walking outside, umbrella in hand.

He watched from the entryway as his father moved to open the passenger door and stretch out a hand, to help his mother out of the car. Despite her discharge and positive prognosis, the effects of the surgery had weakened his mother to a state Mason wished he never had to witness. Still, the now doting son moved towards the pair, shielding them from the rain as they welcomed Iseul back into her home.

"It's so good to be home!" Iseul smiled, her eyes catching the welcome home banner Mason had asked his friends to help him create. The last four days in school had been good...better than good, and lunchtime felt as if things had returned to normal.
Mason was once more trying to pay attention in class, and he had his friends to keep him company. His heart still ached knowing the hurt he had caused, but his friends hadn't pondered on his mistakes at all. Lucas, once more was sending his conspiracy theories and he and Anya spent every moment together when they weren't separated from school, revision and work.

Yesterday, they had spent the early hours at the cliff face, simply just discussing their dreams, ambitions and insecurities. He had attempted to sing, but his voice was yet to return, and she had comforted him; a gesture he returned by easing her concerns by promising her that she would get the required grades to get into school. It was also at this moment he had relayed why he had gifted her a dream catcher for her birthday , a device to capture her own ambition as Anya had done the same for him. She had kissed him so profusely, and he had returned home full of warmth, despite the sudden dip in temperature that had frozen Rye.

"I'm glad you're home, mum," Mason grinned genuinely, hugging her tightly once they were indoors. As part of the redecoration, he had also placed a small bench beside the entry way, giving his mother, or any one, a place to sit to remove their shoes. With Iseul's hand and arm still wrapped in a cast, he bent down to assist her in removing her shoes, before helping her to her feet.
His father had remained wooden, his eyes focused on the images Mason had hung, but he did not comment. Instead, he pecked his wife's brow and moved upstairs, giving her and  Mason a moment alone.

"So, do you want to eat?" Mason asked, and she nodded, as he guided her to the table as he prepared the table for three. He'd cooked in the morning; a simple meal of rice, eggs and various side dishes from the fridge, and Iseul was more than happy to help herself.

When Mason's father didn't return, however, and he released another sigh, his mother's pointed expression forced him to investigate her countenance. "What?"

"Go and talk to him," Iseul insisted. "He's been wanting to talk to you for weeks,"

"Then why won't he say anything?" Mason asked as his mother rolled her eyes.

"Because he's stubborn, just like you! So go upstairs and talk, we need things to change in this family, and we're going to start by learning how to communicate,"
Mason's brow rose on surprise as his mother pursed his lips. "I'm in therapy," she muttered in justification to her surprisingly supportive words, "just go,"

With a small sigh, Mason abandoned his late lunch and climbed the stairs, expecting to see his father in his parent's room. Surprisingly, he wasn't there, the bathroom was unoccupied and Mason's door was open to reveal its emptiness. Only one room remained and Mason forced himself to breathe as he crossed the space that he hadn't entered for over two years.

There wasn't a hint of change. No dust on the furniture or cobwebs on the filing. The room still smelt of his brother's body spray, and the sheets were fresh. Haneul's various prizes and trophies were still displayed on the shelf, and perched on his bed was his father.
It forced Mason to stop at the entryway, and release a shuddering breath before calling his father's attention. "Dad?"

"Hmm, yeah?" His father murmured his response, his gaze fixed onto what he held in his hands. The only light source was the lamp in the corner of the room, offering an amber glow to his father's face as he turned slightly in Mason's direction. It wasn't a direct invitation, but he accepted it as one, moving to sit beside him on the bed. Only then did Mason see the picture frame and recognise it as one of Haneul's favourites.

"That's the day Haneul asked me if I wanted to learn how to play the guitar," Mason murmured, his eyes captivated in the picture, but he needn't see the image to recall the memory. "I was twelve, and you'd taken us to Brighton for the weekend," He added, smiling at the picture of the family of four, sat on the pier. "There was busker just by the water, singing his heart out...when I think back, it was that look in his eyes that seemed magical to me. It was just a man, and his guitar and the music they created together,"

"And Haneul asked if you wanted to learn?" His father filled, as Mason sniffled, his cry immediate as he longed for the brother that had always understood him. "I think he must have known back then that music was your calling,"

The words forced a wave of shock to rush over his heart as he froze, turning to see his father's expression filled with sincerity. "And I was wrong," He admitted, "It was wrong of me to push you into something you'd told me time and time again, you didn't want to do. And I should never have held Haneul over you like that, and what we... what I put you through was...it must have been very difficult for you, unforgivably so,"

Mason had not seen his father cry since the day of Haneul's funeral. On that day, he had lowered his head and hid the tears that dripped down his cheeks, but today, he permitted Mason to see his human side and connect.
"I was wrong too," He admitted. "I hurt you and refused to speak to you about this properly. Instead, on the day I should have been a son and been there for you and mum, I threw in my anger and left. That's just as terrible,"

His heart ached with the agony he had caused, but the weight baring his shoulders were gone, and Mason felt unconfined. The air was balmy from the humidity created from the heaters, and when Mason inhaled deeply in an attempt to calm his tears, the scent of cedarwood became profound. It was his brother, present and witnessing, taking his part at this moment before he returned to the heavens above.

Though Mason did not acknowledge it, from the way his father relaxed, he could only assume he could sense it too. For a moment longer, the pair existed, revelling in the newness of their relationship, as Mason finally dried his eyes.

"I erm, I want you to go for it Mason," his father then confirmed. "I've never understood your passion for music..." Mason senior released another shuddering breath as he forced contact with his son's eyes. "But I damn well know what it's like to lose someone...your mother lost herself in her grief, and I know in some ways I did too. If music is what will make you happy, if that's what will make living this awful life easier, then I'll be rooting for you. I may not always understand it but I'll support you, every step of the way."

Mason's mouth had parched dried and it took several attempts to conjure the words that still failed to articulate the emotions he felt. And so he leaned against his father, wrapping his arms around him awkwardly, as he thanked him with his embrace. They were the words he had never even dreamed of hearing and yet his father had declared them loud and clearly.

"Boys!"
Moments later a loud voice called from downstairs, causing them to jump, and they chuckled, realising it had been a call they hadn't heard for so long.
They grinned, and his father clapped a hand to Mason's back, urging him to stand as he placed the photo in its frame. A final glance encouraged a softer smile, and with a last deep breath, the pair descended the steps to where his mother, and their now cold food, was awaited.

Mason's family wasn't perfect, and they had a long road of healing to go, but in the small three-bedroom house that had once only stirred pain and dread, Mason had found a miracle in the dark. He had found hope.

Three months later:

A deep breath filled Mason's lungs as he grounded himself and allowed his senses to heighten. The chatter became drowned by the silence he created, and only the sound of his guitar strings was permitted to be accessed by the hearing part of his brain. The ribbons of chord were wound tightly and tuned to perfection, and the feel of his new bass guitar, a gift from his parents for Christmas, after they realised he had destroyed his last, sat heavily against his stomach.
The smell of charred smoke and...hot chocolate filled his nose, arousing him from his mindful state, and when he opened his eyes, he saw dark brown eyes holding the source.

"How are you feeling?" Anya asked, passing him the cup that warmed his hands. For March, the weather was still bitterly cold, and though spring was on the horizon, Mason was grateful to have something that quenched his thirst and tasted heavenly on his tongue.

"He's feeling great!" A familiar voice answered for him, before Lucas sat on the uncomfortable chair beside him.

"Do you?" Anya asked, and when he met her gaze, she giggled, somehow finding humour in the nauseous expression he submitted. His pointed look only gave her another reason to laugh, and though the sound caused his heart to burn, he resisted the urge to kiss her parted lips.

Though tensions had eased and they were completely normal, Mason didn't need to hear Lucas' complaint. Until he had the courage to ask Taylor out, the girl he finally confessed to liking, his jealousy was almost intolerable. Still, he had accepted his place at Exeter, and Anya had two weeks left to make her decision whilst they continued to study for their exams. Yet, here the pair stood, supporting him, putting away a whole day of revision that they needed to display their love and affection for him.
Whatever the outcome was of today, it was something he would never forget.

"I'm alright," He decided, sipping the cooling chocolate that coated his tongue. "Thanks for this," He added, "Any news on how long it's going to be?"

"The guy with the clipboard said ten minutes," Lucas informed with an encouraging smile. "You're going to be great!

"I am," Mason nodded with fake belief. "l can do this,"

"Five minutes until curtain," A new voice announced behind them, correcting Lucas and the fraudulent persona he emitted was quickly destroyed. Those five had whizzed by before Mason could even value the time they had allotted, and he could feel the fear build deep in the pit of his stomach. A flame of terror burning every ounce of confidence he once possessed.

"I can't do this," He confirmed, lifting the guitar from his shoulders and placing it on the ground. His breathing rate heightened, and Lucas was soon in front of him, forcing Mason to lift his gaze.

"Yes, you can," He encouraged, holding his shoulders so that Mason could see his blue eyes swirl with solid conviction. "And you are going to get on that stage, and you are going to sing," He insisted.

The sting of Lucas' slap came when he shook his head, and when he gaped eyes wide, his friends chuckled as if it had been pre-planned.

"What the heck was that?" He questioned, moving to his feet as he held his sore cheek.

"The twins were watching the Incredibles last week; it seemed to work for Mrs Incredible,"

"That was for comedic purposes!" Mason retorted, knowing precisely what scene he was referring to- the one where the fashion designer slapped the superhero to force her to face her reality, but that was in a movie, and that was the line Mason repeated.

"It worked, didn't it?" Anya added as he met her eyes, and he found himself nodding. In those few moments, he had forgotten his fear, and when the clipboard carrier returned, Mason found himself picking up his guitar and acknowledging his friends one last time.

"Good luck," Lucas grinned, and he nodded with a small smile.

"You've got this," Anya confirmed, using his shoulders to lean on her tip-toes and press a kiss to his lips. "So go and earn your future; we believe in you."

Her words were powerful, and when the clipboard carrier gestured for him to follow, Mason left his friends and walked beyond the curtain. A bright light beamed upon him when he stood on the marker, and his eyes oversaw the judges to the familiar faces in the crowd.

There, waving enthusiastically, were the Sinclair's who hooted, and Mr Kale, the teacher who had supported. And in the row, before them, were his parents, both smiling wide, their glee and pride illuminated by the coloured spotlights above.
The past four months had been incredibly rocky, but as a family, they were overcoming many of the hurdles, life had presented. Haneul's third death anniversary had been notably difficult, but Mason did not cower when his mother yearned to drink. Instead, as a family, they attended her meeting; and visited his brother, where Mason had sung.
Things at home were not perfect, but alongside his friends, and the genuine love his parents bestowed, just as winter turned to spring, new life had sprung from what used to be the ashes of his home. And now this was his opportunity to prove himself, and everyone he loved that this was what he was born to do.

"Hello," A voice invited, calling his attention to the panel before him. "Who are you, and why are you here, today?"

"Hi," he returned meekly, taking a deep breath as he sought familiarity from his guitar, running a hand over the smooth wood as he met the judge's eyes. "My name is Mason, Mason Park, and I'm here because I choose to sing."

The End.
(Author's note on the next chapter)
Song- This is Me