#czatty

"Dude, what the fuck?" Ronan's voice was venomous, words dripped through clenched teeth. Seething. He was not talking to Matthew. He was talking to Noah.

Noah watched Ronan's eyes tracking the hickey at his neck and the space between him and his younger brother. Ronan knew Noah well, that was true, but Noah knew Ronan just as well. He watched Ronan fight with Declan, with Kavinsky; he could recognize when he was about to square up, posture readying for a physical confrontation.

This was not how Noah thought his day was going to go.

"Wait, I can explain—" Matthew's words were lost on them as Noah broke out into a sprint and Ronan chased after him.

"My little fucking brother, man?!" Ronan roared.

Adrenaline was the only thing keeping Noah going. He was not a runner and his lungs already burned from the cold air. Ronan ran like a bull, racing forward with no hesitation, brute force, ruthless and unrelenting. One quick glance behind him and Noah yelped, "I'm sorry!"

"Ronan!" Matthew joined the race, running after his brother. Normally he could overtake him easily, but after a 90-minute rugby game, he was exhausted and waning.

His brother ignored him, sights set on Noah and Noah alone. "I told you to look out for him! What the fuck did you think I meant, you little shit!"

"I was!" Noah shouted back. "I am!"

Ronan growled and charged ahead. "I didn't mean go out with him, you fucking asshole!"

Noah couldn't answer, could only focus on running, on keeping up the space between them. He had no answer anyway. While this was not exactly the kind of reaction Noah had anticipated, it wasn't far off. He betrayed his best friend, he knew that, but he also recognized there were underlying issues in the Lynch family that made Matthew so wary of telling his brothers about his relationships.

Noah was in the back of the coffee shop he worked at, taking his fifteen. He was trying to quit smoking, again, but his coworkers didn't know that and offered him one. He sat, leg bouncing, agitated and considering, staring at the cigarette in his hand, twirling it between his fingers. His phone buzzed. He looked down at their open text thread and froze.

It was a gym selfie. Matthew stood in the mirror, drenched in sweat, muscles wet and flexing, mouth open in a pant, eyes dark as they stared down the center of the lens. He had his tank top pulled up to wipe at his face, revealing his abdomen, just as chiseled as the rest of him, six-pack or jesus christ eight?! Noah lost count as his eyes drifted lower to the low-slung shorts, his hip bones prominent above the elastic waistband. The shorts were tight around his thick thighs, his knees and legs covered in dirt from a rough practice.

"Matty?" Noah's hand reached for Matthew's belt, tugging him forward.

"Yeah?" Matthew's breath left him in a rush, eyes locked on Noah's mouth.

It was a hard impact when their lips met again, a thud against the wall, a grunt, a moan. Noah grabbed at Matthew's shoulders and Matthew slid his hands down to Noah's thighs, hitching them up around his waist and carrying him to the counter, effortless. He set him down without breaking the kiss, settling in between his legs, fingers raking through Noah's hair.

"What the fuck, did you just pick me up?" Noah panted into his mouth and tightened his legs around Matthew, pulling him in closer. He was burning up from the inside out. Noah was shorter than Matthew, sure, their size difference was part of the reason he found Matthew so attractive, but he hadn't anticipated being picked up. Or how much he liked it.