Summary: What the Funhaus Crew lacked in means, they made up for in attitude.
Warnings: Swearing, some violence.
WordCount: 1,647
It was bizarre how difficult it was.
Because it both was, and wasnât, a pain.
And that was all down to, in the grand scheme of things, they had to be slightly sadistic to even consider this as their job, their life, what they wanted to do and who they wanted to be. It was a contradicting monster that led them all to where they were now - stuck in an abandoned warehouse with only a handful of tatty seats scattered about the place and a half broken mini fridge that was almost all alcohol and hardly anything of substance.
Theyâd hit the ground running but were fast losing balance, it wasnât easy to establish yourself in the ins and outs of crime in Los Santos, not when there were already so many well established gangs that couldnât afford anyone running into their turf, taking their pickings and leaving them to claw back the slippery slope that was respect.
It was dangerous business. You didnât want to be in anyoneâs pockets because once you were in there, you wouldnât get back out.
The Funhaus Crew, unfortunately, were in a fair few peopleâs pockets as of late.
Or rather, they should be, but refused to compensate a rat race full of other gangs that felt more than a little fragile over having a new crew rush in on their jobs, full of enthusiasm and an almost psychotic passion for what they did. Fuck, they werenât even doing it well, but it was something about their drive that was making the otherâs uncomfortable.
Though the crew would argue that, currently, they were the most uncomfortable.
Especially considering James was laid out on the couch clutching at his bleeding arm, though it was leaking a lot more sluggishly than before it was still causing him agony all the same. Adam was sat in front of the beaten up sofa, legs aching from running so fast for so long and the unforgiving concrete floor, bruised to the nines and trying to ignore it in favour of comforting the other, which essentially boiled down to them both bitching about the situation and leaving Matt to do the actual nursing. If it wasnât for him, half of them would walk around with bullet wounds, bruises and cut up skin hoping that if they complained enough theyâd disappear out of thin air.
One thing was for sure, they werenât getting any kind of revenge in the state they were in. Not quite yet.
More and more of their acquisition of illegal goods, theft, and the odd elimination task were being absolutely ruined by another gang turning up to either steal the inevitable pay or teach them a lesson, and they werenât exactly ever equipped to go head to head with them and win. It was only their headstrong attitude keeping them together these days but even that was fading fast.
 âEvery fucking time-â James spat, shifting to try and get comfy and failing miserably. He wasnât sure if it was the bitterness of the situation making him suffer more, but this particular bullet wound was giving him serious grief, to the point where he hung his uninjured arm down if only to squeeze Adamâs bloodied hand to distract himself. Adam ignored his own aching and sore knuckles to let James indulge in the small comfort whilst Matt did his best to clean the damage up.
 âWe canât keep letting this happen,â Matt mumbled softly, addressing the fact that he was sick of seeing what may as well be his family hurt all the time, whereas Lawrence went for a more materialistic view of it all.
 âWeâre never going to get anywhere if this keeps happening. Itâs like running up against a fucking avalanche of douchebags.â
Elyse sniggered a little, but the sound was hollow and not half as amused as she felt. She let herself slide down against the wall to settle on the floor, exhausted and bruised like most of the others. They were genuinely lucky to be alive this time, and though they were pissed off it had also left that all too familiar fire burning in their stomachs - nothing but an addiction they couldnât quit even if they knew it was eating them inside out.
As much as they wanted to do this by themselves, as a family, they knew that their only real option if they wanted to stay in the race and better yet, stay breathing, was to find help, someone thatâd see their potential and offer their hand out without stripping them of the few achievements theyâd earned as a unit. They knew they had merits but when other groups were out there, established, connected, kitted out with both the materials and the drive they also shared, it was useless to even try unless by some stroke of luck they made one score that was colossal enough to turn heads.
And honestly, with the amount of time it was going to take to lick these wounds theyâd have better luck returning to the normality of living on the straight and narrow.
They spent the night in that warehouse, their buzz of the fight dying down as the early hours crawled in and they shared out whatever booze was knocking around the place, not caring if they were caught in such a state, if anything itâd only serve to bolster them even more, letting the gravity of their journey, or lack of it, weigh on them all individually and as a unit.
James was already feeling a lot better after Matt had managed to pry the bullet out of his arm and close it as best he could, sharing the couch as he always did with Adam by his side, not too subtly running his fingers up and down the side of Adamâs neck, the rest of his arm resting across the otherâs back. It was innocent, for the most part, just another reminder that they were still in one piece and not blown up and scattered over half the city. Out of all of them, Matt and Adam were the ones to get most wound up about injuries and mishaps, knowing their dumb luck wouldnât hold out for as long as they needed, leading to the others offering those small bits of physical affection a little more often to the pair if only to reassure them in their stunted ways. That was the otherâs explanation, frankly James simply just loved Adam to fucking pieces.
The day that man passed up the chance to shower Adam in affection was the day hell froze over if all of them were being honest.
As the night dragged on, their insanely potent drive seemed to return. They were no longer licking their wounds, rather laughing the whole thing off and lazily contemplating what their next goal would be once everyone was back on their game. Not knowing theyâd wake up that morning to an offer they couldnât refuse, not knowing that their name was going to grow tenfold over just a month. No, as they all napped, uncomfortable, aching and cold, but somewhat content, they had no idea that the Hunters were working on tracking, finding, and offering them the hand they really needed.
Bruce all but shit his pants when he saw Geoff and Jack creeping through the near broken doors of the warehouse that morning, many of the other Hunters following suit. You couldnât blame him, not when they were all geared up to the nines. James admitted to himself, silently, that aside from panicking like all hell he was a little bit proud they saw them as a threat enough to come armed...though heâd prefer not to get another bullet hole anytime soon, especially after the way Adam all but blocked James from view, like he was preparing to take a shot for him right off the bat. James filed that knowledge away for later, if thereâd even be a âlaterâ.
In the end, it was Gavinâs slurred, accent-laced rambling that let their shoulders relax and their few weapons to be lowered to negotiate. Honestly, he could have been telling them they were going to look like colanders once they were done and they wouldnât have had a clue, it was mainly Jackâs apologetic look that solidified that they werenât there to blow their brains out. Or at least, not for a while.
The following month was a blur.
Not because it was forgettable, but because it was hectic. If anything, that month was burned into their memories for the rest of their lives, defining their work, making them razor sharp and part of an even bigger family that was becoming a force to be reckoned with.
Neither group was the best at what they did. They had their talents, but there was someone out there that was faster, more accurate, had more flair. But one thing they all had was guts and that was what made them terrifying.
Theyâd get beaten, stabbed, shot and kidnapped and still be back the following month with a glint in their eye that near enough doomed whoever decided to fuck with them or their patchwork family.
Soon enough, theyâd bought out fancy and modern apartments to crash in instead of warehouses that were rotting from the inside out, had first dibs on the best of the worst jobs, trading drugs and dead men for cash and finding themselves never in want of anything. Theyâd got what they wanted, all of them, after years of trying and failing and having salt rubbed into the wounds. Perhaps it was stupid how persistent theyâd been, how close to being put six feet under they were, but if life was going to continue how it was as of late, well.
A few scars were definitely worth that, because theyâd be damned if theyâd stop there.
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Summary: "This behind the scenes is going to be at least 20% gayer than the others.â
âIâm aiming for 100%,â Lawrence says. â100% more gay.â
âA hundred times zero is still zero,â Joel says through a yawn. Itâs Matt, of all people, who snorts.
âYeah, like any of us are at zero,â he says. Joel feels Jamesâ laugh through where theyâre resting against each other. Lawrence sighs.
âCome on, Peake,â he scolds. âIt was unsaid. The last thing we need before spending two weeks in a cabin together is for someone to put voice to what weâre all thinking.â
WC: 22,075 - Complete
The Six Time Matt Peake Couldnât Find Word And The One Time He Could by CatScratchfel9
Summary: Matt Peake couldn't voice his love- but he was sure to show it.
WC: 937
Adam K./Sean
Next excuse for losing sleep by spoolesofthread
Summary: old prompt answer for tumblr user jackbaettillo: âWho crawls through someoneâs window at 4am to go for ice cream?!â
WC: 355
Matt P./Sean
This Blue Neighborhood by big_brother_wrath
Summary: Spoole doesn't need anything more in his life than Matt Peake. Matt doesn't need anything more in his life than Sean Poole. They certainly don't need the blue neighborhood that's trying to spit Spoole out if it."We kissed when we were kids but then you moved away and now we both go to the same college" AU
personally im a big sucker for fhot7/8/9 whatever and transguy matt So. idk this isnt much of a prompt but Alas
i too am a sucker for ot8 and trans guy matt, anon. thank you so much; i really enjoyed filling this! also, sorry that it took me a while to get it all done!
Ship(s):Â fhot8Â Chapters: 1/1Warnings: brief mentions of dysphoria, talks of sexWord count: 7,036AO3 mirror Â
The beginnings of their relationship were weird, with no clear cut shift from co-workers or friends to lovers. Of course, James and Elyse were already together, and Adam and Matt had been a thing on and off since their college days. Then different people ended up hitting on other members of the group, and they gradually formed one huge web of relationships. Which was fine, honestly, only it left Matt in a bit of an uneasy state, because he hadnât sat down and told any of them. When he and Adam got together, when Adam had admitted his feeling, Matt had blurted out his secret like some kind of disclaimer he had an obligation to provide. He was so used to it being a deal breaker, couldnât take it if Adam found out later and hated him for it. It was easier to get it out of the way then, before Matt got too close. Only Adam hadnât cared, had shrugged like it was no big deal and told Matt that it made no difference to how he felt. Matt spent that night with his head buried in Adamâs chest mumbling how grateful he was.Matt didnât get to do that with anyone else, because the nature of their relationship evolved so slowly. Before he knew it, Matt was suddenly dating seven other people, and six of them had no idea that Matt was trans. It made him nervous, made him worry that some or all of them wouldnât be okay with it, and this amazing thing that they had would be ruined, all because of him. One night, as he lay with his head in Adamâs lap, watching his boyfriend play GTA, he brought the issue up.âDo you think I need to tell everyone?â He said suddenly, out of the blue, and Adamâs brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what Matt was talking about. Adamâs character died onscreen, then he looked down at the other man.âTell them what?ââThat Iâm trans,â Matt sighed, reminding Adam of how much he hated talking about this, even with him.âOh. I donât know. Do you want to tell them?â He questioned gently, respawning in the game and averting his gaze back to the TV.âI feel like I have to.ââI know you do,â Adam replied patiently. âBut thatâs not what I asked. Youâre not obligated to tell everyone just because weâre dating.ââI just feel like Iâm lying to them,â Matt mumbled, a reel of bad experiences playing through his mind.âYouâre not lying about anything, Matt. They think youâre a guy, and you are a guy.ââYeah, but not a realâââMatt,â Adam cut in sternly, stopping the words and the train of thought before they got too far. âDonât say stuff like that. Itâs not true.â Matt heaved another heavy sigh, appreciating Adamâs attempt to dispel his sudden outbreak of dysphoria.âNot everyone thinks like you do, Adam. Iâve had more people call me a liar than welcome me with open arms,â he pointed out, sounding tired. Adam hated being reminded of people who were rude to Matt, who dismissed this man despite him being so kind and caring to everyone else. Adam knew their partners werenât like that.âNobodyâs gonna call you a liar, or be mad at you if and when you tell them.ââYou canât know that,â Matt protested.âI can, because I know them. And you know them too, you know they wouldnât do that to you, theyâre not that kind of people.â Matt shook his head, still not convinced.âIn my experience, making that assumption leads to bad things,â he said in a small voice before pushing himself up out of Adamâs lap and off the couch altogether. âIâm going to bed. See you tomorrow,â he called as he walked from the room, leaving Adam sat in a shocked silence, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do with that. Matt clearly didnât want to talk about it, but Adam couldnât leave it like that, not when Matt was clearly so stressed about the others finding out. Heâd let Matt sleep for now, but theyâd have to have a discussion about it sooner or later.
Later ended up meaning two weeks, as Matt was an expert in subtly avoiding questions and topics which he didnât want to talk about. Adam could only ever bring it up when they were alone, and it was clear that Matt was avoiding him, probably because he knew Adam would want to talk. Matt didnât want to talk about it, but he also didnât want to distance himself from Adam, and so eventually he had to agree to go around his boyfriendâs house when Adam proposed a Netflix date night with Chinese food. Adam was tactful enough not to bring it up right away, waited until they were comfortable, Matt curled into his side and munching on lo mein until Adam said anything.
âI know youâre still worried,â Adam stated casually, feeling Matt tense for a moment against him before the smaller man let out a heavy sigh, setting his half-eaten carton of food on the coffee table.âIâm just scared of losing them, or of fucking all of this up,â he admitted, knowing that Adam wouldnât let him run from this any longer.âMatt, they love you; nothingâs gonna change.ââThat hasnât stopped people in the past,â he mumbled, just loud enough for Adam to catch what heâd said. Adam finally turned his attention away from the TV, looked down to see Matt hadnât done the same. He gave his boyfriend a comforting squeeze, pulling Matt in a little closer.âYou wanna talk about it?ââNot really,â Matt admitted. âYou donât need to hear about my shitty childhood right now, I⊠I just donât want to ruin anything.ââYou thought that about me, remember?â Adam replied lightly, managing a small smile. âYou thought as soon as I knew that it would mess everything up for us, but that didnât happen. And the guys, theyâre really not gonna think any differently about you.ââThat was different,â Matt tried to argue. âIf you didnât like it then I couldâve just found a new roommate. If this backfires, I still have to work with everyone, I still have to see them and have them hate me andâââNone of us will hate you, Matt,â Adam insisted. âI know youâre scared, and thatâs okay. Iâm not saying you have to rush out and tell everyone right away. But when the time comes, I really donât think you have anything to worry about.ââYou really think theyâll be okay with it?â Matt finally replied, after several long moments of thinking over what Adam had said.âI really do,â Adam answered confidently, pressing a kiss to the top of Mattâs head.
Matt decided to tell them all in stages. A part of him still worried about the potential rejection, and if any of them did lash out at him, he would rather it not be all at once whilst everyone was there. He started planning in his head how he would do it, thinking of the best times, the best things to say. He wasnât sure if he had the courage to reveal this information about himself, but a part of him knew it was something the rest of his partners would find out eventually, and reasoned that he would rather it be on his own terms, when Matt was in control of the situation. He couldnât run from this forever, and really, he hated having to hide himself from the people he loved.
He decided he would tell Bruce first, simply because they shared an apartment. Out of the group, Bruce was probably someone Matt spent the most time with, and so it made sense for him to tell Bruce before anyone else. Only Mattâs âtelling Bruceâ was less telling and more showing. He didnât want to make a big deal out of it, hoped if he opted for the subtlety approach then it might have been easier.As well as Matt passed, there were still parts of his body which gave him away, and hiding these on a daily basis became tiring. Matt would be glad when he didnât have to worry about it any longer. So he just stopped worrying. He stopped being cautious of his roommate, stopped overthinking everything he did. Matt stepped out of the bathroom one morning after having taken a shower, towel wrapped around his waist and his mind void of any self-conscious thoughts for a change. Usually he tried to avoid being around Bruce when he was this underdressed, as even though he was happy with his chest now, the signs of his surgery were still there, and he had never felt up to explaining them. Heâd yet to get any further than kissing with anyone in their relationship, with the exception of Adam, and so heâd never had to be shirtless and up close enough to someone that they could see his scars. But Matt really was tired of running from this discussion, and the conversation heâd had with Adam a few days ago had instilled a new sense of confidence in him.He was making his way to his room when Bruce called to him from down the hall, and whereas before Matt may have told him to wait, wouldâve rushed to get dressed and cover himself up, now he just strolled towards the source of the noise. Bruce was in the kitchen, brows furrowed as he leaned down and squinted at the coffee machine.âWhatâs up?â Matt questioned, amusement lacing his voice. The question prompted Bruce to stand up straight, to spin around and face his boyfriend. The surprised expression on his face at the sight he was met with made Matt chuckle softly. When Bruce didnât respond, simply stood there with his mouth open, Matt moved in closer, investigating what the other man had been having trouble with.âNothing!â Bruce finally answered when Matt was beside him, snapping out of whatever trance heâd gone into. âNothingâs wrong, I just wanted to ask if you wanted a coffee to go,â he explained quickly. Matt smirked, arching a brow at Bruceâs flushed cheeks and rushed words.âSure youâre okay there?â He asked, teasing. Matt watched Bruce suck in a deep breath before he nodded as calmly as he could.âYeah, just⊠Youâre still naked. And wet,â he supplied feebly. Mattâs eyebrows shot up at the blunt statement, and he tilted his head up to meet Bruceâs eyes.âSorry?â He tried, unsure if Bruce was complaining or just stating the obvious.âDonât be,â Bruce said, barely letting Matt get the apology out. âItâs fine, itâs⊠More than fine. Itâs a nice view.ââIs it?â Matt asked sceptically, looking down at himself. His confidence may have grown a little, but he hadnât been overcome with vanity just yet.âDefinitely,â replied Bruce, voice brimming with confidence. When Matt looked up, the space that had existed between Bruce and himself was no more. He could feel Bruceâs breath and the weight of his gaze. They werenât quite touching, but Matt could still feel the heat radiating off the older manâs body. He opened his mouth, trying to think of something else to say as Bruce looked him over, but Matt never got the chance. âMatt?â Bruce murmured, frowning again as he raised his hand.âHm?â Matt hummed, holding his breath, waiting for the bomb to drop. His heart was hammering, and he began to wonder why he had thought this was a good idea.âWhatâre these?â Questioned Bruce gently, his hand hovering over Mattâs pecs, unsure if he was allowed to touch him.âTheyâre scars,â Matt replied quietly, trying not to shake from how nervous he was all of a sudden. âFrom surgery.â The next question out of Bruceâs mouth wasnât the one Matt had been expecting.âCan I touch them?â He asked. Matt blinked, confused for a second before nodding, murmuring a soft affirmation which Bruce just about heard. Bruceâs finger was cold as it traced tenderly along the slightly curved and faded scars. Matt watched his expression, wondered what was going through Bruceâs mind. âDoes this hurt?ââNo, youâre fine,â Matt assured. âTheyâre old by now.ââHow old?â Bruce asked, still not looking up. He seemed almost fascinated. Matt certainly hadnât expected this. He drew in a long breath, trying to get over the fact Bruce was touching his scars and not freaking out.âFour years,â he replied, watching curiously as Bruce continued to stare at his chest. It was weird, but Matt didnât feel uncomfortable.âI knew you four years ago,â Bruce thought aloud, still frowning as he finally raised his head, meeting Mattâs eyes. âI didnât know you had surgery. How come you never mentioned it?ââYeah, I didnât tell anyone,â Matt shrugged, palms sweaty as he curled his hands into fists, waiting for this whole thing to collapse.âWhat was it for?â Bruce asked after a long silence in which he contemplated whether that was going too far. Matt blinked, trying to remember how to speak.âI had a mastectomy,â Matt breathed. Bruce was close enough that he just about heard it, tilted his head as he tried to put the pieces together. Matt saw he was confused, and sighed softly before speaking up again. âBreast removal,â he explained a little louder now. âI, uh⊠I was assigned female at birth.ââI canât believe you had surgery and didnât tell us,â Bruce mused, seemingly in a world of his own. Matt shifted awkwardly on his feet, wondering if he should repeat himself.âD-did you hear me?â He asked timidly, trying to get Bruceâs attention back. It worked, the older man blinking as he looked up suddenly, met Mattâs eyes and nodded his head quickly.âYeah, I heard you. I just⊠I canât believe you had to deal with that on your own.ââYouâre not mad at me?ââMad?â Bruce echoed, his face scrunched up in confusion as he looked at his boyfriend. âWhy would I be mad?ââBecause Iâm different, and messed up, and I never told you,â Matt replied instantly, and he hated the way his voice wavered as he spoke. He couldnât start crying, not now, no matter what. Bruceâs shoulders slumped as he heard those words, and he heaved a dejected sigh. Matt clenched his jaw, took deep breaths as he waited for the attack heâd been expecting. He was surprised, then, when Bruceâs next move was to rest a hand on Mattâs bare hip and pull him in closer. They were touching now, and Bruce used his free hand to tilt Mattâs head up so he could meet the shorter manâs eyes and hold his gaze.âYouâre not messed up,â Bruce stated firmly. âAnd Iâm not angry because you didnât tell me about this. Please donât ever think that. Iâm just annoyed that Iâve been a shitty boyfriend and havenât been there to support you when you needed it. But please, please donât feel guilty or think that I love you any less now that I know.ââYouâre not a shitty boyfriend,â Matt laughed, looking up at Bruce with wet eyes.âOh thank God,â he replied dramatically, grinning as his arm snaked around Mattâs waist, keeping him close, pressed up against Bruce. Matt laughed again, giddy with how stupidly fucking accepting Bruce was, and the sound made Bruceâs face break out into a grin. The look on Bruceâs face was making Matt blush, and so he curled in on his lover, nuzzled into Bruceâs chest. The older man wrapped his other arm around Matt too, holding him in a comforting hug. âThank you for telling me,â Bruce murmured into Mattâs hair before kissing the top of his head.ââSâfine,â Matt mumbled into his T-shirt, returning the hug by looping his own arms around Bruceâs lower back. âI figured Iâve kept you all in the dark long enough.ââDoes anyone else know?ââOnly Adam,â Matt confessed, feeling a lot more up to speaking now his nervousness and fears of rejection had gone. âHe knew me when I started T. Hormones,â Matt clarified quickly, doubtful that Bruce would know what he was talking about.âYeah, you guys have been together forever,â Bruce hummed, giving Matt a gentle squeeze before pulling back to look at him again. âSo youâre gonna tell everyone?ââThatâs the plan,â Matt nodded.âWell, Iâll be right there holding your hand if you need me to,â Bruce assured, giving Matt a huge grin. âOr if you donât then Iâll just be in the background silently cheering for you. Whatever you want.â Matt couldnât believe how lucky he was to have people as incredible as this in his life. He didnât deserve Bruce and all his supportive enthusiasm, but by God was he grateful for it.âThanks, Bruce,â he replied sincerely. âThat really means a lot.ââSo, you want that coffee?ââCoffee would be great,â Matt agreed, watching Bruce go back to fiddling with the machine for a moment before heading back down the hall to get dressed.
In honesty, Matt hadnât figured out the logistics of telling the rest of the group yet. He was scared to come out to them all at once, but he also didnât like the idea of anyone being the last to know. He pushed the issue from his mind when he got to work, engrossed himself in his editing so he didnât have to think about it for a while.
When lunchtime rolled around, James came up behind him, and Matt was startled as his headphones were pulled off suddenly. He turned to see James grinning over his shoulder, waving at him enthusiastically.âLunch!â James declared, and Matt couldnât help but smile at him.âYou can go without me, I really wanna get this finished,â the smaller man replied, reaching up to try and reclaim his headphones. James batted his hand away and held the headphones up higher.âYou can get it finished, when you get back from lunch.ââJames,â Matt whined childishly, straining his arm in another desperate attempt to get his headphones back.âCâmon, Matt,â Elyse chirped from his other side, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and giving him a gentle tug. âYou need to eat; youâve barely stopped all day.ââIâll get something from the refrigerator,â Matt tried to argue, but Elyse was already leaning over him to save his work. He sighed dramatically and she responded by giving him a huge smile and tugging at his shoulders again. âYouâre insufferable,â Matt muttered playfully as he got to his feet, still smiling fondly despite his feigned annoyance at the pair.âOh yeah, I canât imagine how horrible it must be to have people who love you and want to make sure youâre doing okay,â James drawled sarcastically.âJames, you know thereâs nothing worse than people offering to take you out and buy your food for you,â Elyse replied cheekily, and Matt shook his head to himself.âWhere are you going?â Bruce called from his desk as Elyse slipped her hand into Mattâs, ready to pull him out of the door before he could continue to complain.âChiliâs, you wanna come?â James offered.âSure, hang on, Iâll drive,â Bruce replied, getting up and grabbing his keys. Nobody else made to come with them, so the group headed out and piled into Bruceâs car.As they sat around the table after having placed their orders they chatted amicably, having casual discussions about upcoming movies or games that they were playing. James tilted his head, studying Matt from across the table.âYouâre super quiet today man; are you feeling okay?â He asked. Matt nodded his head, giving James a small but genuine smile to try and reassure him.âYeah, Iâm fine. Really,â he added with a laugh, feeling touched by Jamesâs sceptical scowl.âIâm sorry I dragged you from your edit,â Elyse said, her straw in front of her lips.âI think you needed to, honestly,â Matt shrugged, sipping at his coke. Bruce shot him a sideways look, a little worried that Matt was feeling stressed or under pressure. He often got quiet when he was worried about something, so Bruce moved his hand and gave Mattâs leg a quick, comforting squeeze. James narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the pair, gaze darting between the two of them.âSeriously, whatâs going on?â He asked again, trying to keep his tone light, but he was getting nervous. Elyse set her glass down and frowned, lost as to why James was suddenly starting to freak out. A groan came from Matt as he realised how obvious he was being, and he silently chided himself on not having a better poker face.âSo, I told Bruce something earlier,â He started, feeling the hand return to his knee under the table. It was surprisingly helpful in keeping him grounded.âAre you guys breaking up with us or something?â James interrupted, managing to keep his voice at a reasonable level so as to not attract any attention to their group and its unorthodox relationship setup.âGod no,â Matt said quickly, at the same time as Bruce declared:âNo way!ââThen whatâs wrong?â Elyse prodded, her curious tone a contrast to Jamesâs mildly panicked one. Matt took a deep breath, looked at the table for a few moments before he could bring himself to raise his head and look at the two of them again. He hadnât planned on doing this here and now, had no idea what he was going to say, but James was worried, and Matt couldnât be responsible for that.âNothingâs wrong, I⊠I told Bruce this morning that Iâm trans,â he said softly. âAnd I wanted to tell you guys too.â His hands stayed clasped around his glass, gripping it to try and stop himself from shaking. Matt looked nervously between the two, watched them process his words and waited with baited breath for their reaction. Yet again, he was expecting the worst. Instead, Elyseâs face broke out into a huge smile.âThatâs so cool!â She exclaimed, and Mattâs jaw went slack with shock. Before his brain had a chance to take everything in, Elyse was sliding onto the bench seat beside him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.âWhat?â Matt murmured, blinking as he tried to figure out why Elyse was suddenly hugging him. James was grinning at them across the table, and it wasnât until he pulled out his phone and snapped a picture of the couple that Matt really reacted. He shook his head before turning it to look at Elyse, confused. âWhy are you so happy about this?â He asked, bewildered.âIâm happy that you told us!â She exclaimed, the grin on her face the most infectious thing Matt had ever seen. He couldnât help but smile back at her.âSorry it took me so long,â laughed Matt nervously, causing Elyse to roll her eyes.âI donât care,â she assured. âIâm just glad that you felt like you could tell us now.ââSorry if we seemed like huge, judgemental assholes who you had to hide from,â James joked, only Matt took it a bit too seriously.âNo, that wasnât why Iââ he started, but James cut him off again.âHey, itâs fine,â the blue-eyed man interrupted, reaching across the table and pulling Mattâs hand off his glass so he could put his own over it. It was a small gesture, but it settled the nerves in Mattâs stomach. âI understand, man. Itâs a big deal for you. But it makes no difference to us, really.ââYeah, I still love ya, Matt Peake,â Elyse agreed, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before resting her head on his shoulder. Bruce watched the three of them with a smile of his own, catching the way that Mattâs cheeks flushed from the kiss, how James was rubbing his thumb over Mattâs knuckles in a comforting motion. Bruce pressed himself closer to Mattâs side and slipped an arm behind his boyfriendâs lower back.âI love you guys too,â Matt confessed, feeling a little overwhelmed by all the attention he was receiving right then. The moment didnât last, however, as they were interrupted by their waiter coming over, plates of food in their hands.âUm,â they said, glancing around at the odd group who seemed to be having some kind of weird romantic moment. âMango-Chile Chicken?ââOh, thatâs mine!â Elyse replied cheerfully, raising her hand. She disentangled herself from Matt and moved back around to her chair, not at all embarrassed about having been caught hugging one of her awesome boyfriends. Matt really was fucking lucky to have these people in his life.
 Matt was pretty quiet on the car ride back to the office, and Elyse responded by making sure to hold his hand or keep her open palm rested on his leg. He shot her grateful looks for the concern she was showing, and she beamed back at him, still way too happy about Matt being so comfortable and trusting of them. Even when they climbed out of Bruceâs car, Elyse linked their arms together again.âTheyâre all gonna think that Matt proposed to you or something,â Bruce teased her as he fell into step beside the pair.âI already beat him to that!â James pointed out. âBut seriously, you two look like youâre on your honeymoon or something.ââShut up, Iâm allowed to love my boyfriend,â Elyse replied defensively, pulling Matt in a little closer, away from James on Mattâs other side. James poked out his tongue to her in response and made a silly face before he looked back at Matt.âDoes everyone else already know, or did you just tell Bruce this morning?ââBruce and Adam knew before you two. Iâll tell all the other guys today; I donât wanna leave them out or anything.ââYou donât have to do it all right now, Matt,â Bruce reminded him gently, knowing how stressful Matt had already been over talking about the issue so much in one day.âI want to,â Matt replied with a quiet confidence. âYouâre all important to me, so you should all know. Plus itâs not fair to only tell like half of you.ââIf youâre sure, then thatâs great,â nodded Bruce, reaching out and opening the door for the group to head back insideâYou wanna tell âem right away?â Elyse asked him quietly from where she was practically pressed against his side. Matt replied with a casual:âMight as well,â and a shrug of one shoulder, to which Elyse gave a confident nod.âI got your back,â she told him, right before they entered the office. âOkay, listen up!â Elyse called, waiting for the others to stop working before she continued. âMatt Peake has something important to tell you.ââThanks,â Matt laughed, comforted by Elyseâs enthusiasm, her arm through his own as all eyes fell on him. âI just wanted you all to know, thatââ he stopped for a moment, trying to compose himself, to find the words. James rested a hand on the small of his back, and Matt took a deep breath. âThat Iâm transgender,â he said finally.Adam grinned to himself and gave Matt a quick thumbs up from across the room, feeling extremely proud of his boyfriend. The other three were quiet for just long enough for Mattâs worries to start creeping in again, but then Spoole spoke up before they could amount to anything.âSo youâre a girl?â he asked, pushing away from his desk and wheeling his chair a little closer to Matt.âDo you have a new name yet?â Joel added, roused out of his brief moment of shock and trying to be as supportive as he could. Matt frowned deeply, looking between them both.âWhat? No, Iâve already done the whole name change thing,â he explained.âIâm confused,â Spoole complained. âYou changed your name and didnât tell us?ââNo Spoole, heâs saying he changed his name to Matt,â Bruce laughed, but Spoole still looked lost.âMatt wasnât born with a dick, Spoole,â Adam chimed, not looking away from his screen as he spoke, clearly not as interested as everyone else seemed to be now. He tapped away at his keyboard, having gone back to work.âOh,â said Spoole, dragging the sound out as understanding came to him.âDo you have one now?â Lawrence asked as soon as the thought came to his head, realising too late that that probably wasnât an appropriate thing to say.âLawrence!â Elyse chided, finally detaching herself from Matt and crossing her arms over her chest. âYou shouldnât ask stuff like that.ââItâs fine,â Matt assured, smiling at how quick Elyse was to defend him, at the fact he had only been met with curiosity and not aggression. âIâve had people I know a lot less ask me worse questions. And no, I donât,â he added, directing the answer to Lawrence, who was still looking a little sheepish about having been intrusive.âHow come Adam isnât reacting to any of this?â Joel questioned, wanting to change the subject as much as he wanted answers.âUh, because he and Matt were high school sweethearts whoâve probably been banging since they turned twenty,â James supplied, speaking as if that were the most obvious thing in the world.âWe didnât go to the same high school,â Adam argued, glancing over his shoulder and just catching Jamesâs grin. âAnd we havenât been banging since we were twenty either.ââDo I need to go higher or lower?â James replied wittily.âCan we talk about Kovic losing his virginity when we donât have work to do?â Bruce interrupted before the two could bicker any further. Lawrence was smirking at the whole exchange, and Elyse rolled her eyes as she caught sight of his expression when she sat back down beside him. Everyone seemed to fall back into routine then, getting back to their desks and pulling their headphones on. Joel walked over and wrapped his arms around Matt, pulling him into a tight hug before the smaller man could get back to work. Matt returned the hug with a soft laugh, feeling his boyfriendâs face nuzzle into his neck.âYou know we love you, right?â Joel murmured beside Mattâs ear, and the latter nodded against Joelâs shoulder, grinning so much his face was starting to hurt.âYeah, I know. Thanks.ââThank you for trusting us.â Joel pulled away and smiled fondly down at Matt, pressing a kiss to his forehead before releasing him and heading back to his desk. Matt sat back down and opened up the edit Elyse had pulled him away from earlier. If anyone glanced over at him for the rest of the afternoon (which, of course, they did), they wouldâve seen the soft smile which remained on Mattâs face as he sat, relaxed and content whilst he worked quietly.
The fact that Matt was trans didnât come up again for quite some time. Matt seemed a lot more relaxed around everyone now, more open, especially at home with Bruce. It was only a subtle change, but everyone noticed how he was that little bit happier, less stressed than he had been before. It was nice, and Matt felt a huge weight lifted off his shoulders now that he had nothing to hide from anyone.
It wasnât until they were on one of their group date nights a few weeks after heâd told them all that anyone mentioned it. They were all crammed into Joelâs living room on a Saturday night, cuddled up and watching Star Wars. And by watching Star Wars, they meant that A New Hope was playing in the background whilst they all talked over it. There were boxes of pizza dotted about the place along with the occasional empty beer bottle. It wasnât unusual for them all to end up sleeping on the couch or the floor on nights like these, even if they werenât drinking. Nobody was even drunk, and theyâd all been on sodas for the last hour at least.âDid you really lose your virginity to Matt in college?â James asked Adam, following a discussion theyâd been having about past relationships. Adam groaned loudly at the question and fell over dramatically, burying his face in Joelâs stomach to try and hide from it. The curly-haired man laughed and petted Adamâs head fondly.âCan we talk about something else?â Adam whined after turning his head to the side so he could be understood.âWhy, was it an awkward first time?â James pressed again, a wicked grin on his face as he sat up on his knees excitedly.âIt wasnât Adamâs first time,â Matt said casually as he leaned over James to grab another slice of BBQ chicken pizza. He took a big bite and pretended not to see Jamesâs shocked expression over the fact Matt had answered before Adam himself.âWait, so it was yours?â Joel queried, his fingers still running through Adamâs hair. Matt hummed around his pizza and nodded his head.âAdam was your first?â Elyse squealed, causing Lawrence and Spoole to look over from where they were curled together on the loveseat, half asleep and half watching the movie, but they had paying no attention to their lovers until that point.âThatâs so sweet,â Joel cooed, looking down at Adam and pinching his cheek. Adam responded by scowling and batting Joelâs hand away.âWhatâre you talking about?â Spoole asked, clearly having just been woken from his nap. He was still a little groggy, but the conversation had caught his attention.âMatt Peake lost his virginity to Adam!â James yelled triumphantly, as if theyâd uncovered a piece of scandalous gossip. Bruce tossed a cushion at him for being so obnoxious, prompting James to act offended and innocent. That got him another cushion thrown his way, but he deflected it back towards Bruce.âItâs not even a big deal,â Adam grumbled, but Lawrence was already getting up and making his way over to find out more about the issue. So much for Adamâs plan of not talking about it.âWhy are we talking about sex?â asked Spoole quietly as he sat down on the floor beside Adamâs feet.âWeâre not, weâre talking about Matt,â Elyse countered.âMattâs sex life,â Bruce amended, feeling a little nervous about the direction the conversation was heading in. Matt had never been one to open up about this sort of thing, and now that Bruce understood the reason behind that, he didnât want to force the issue.âBut why?â whined Spoole, frustrated that heâd missed the first half of the discussion.âBecause it doesnât involve any of us,â said Lawrence, pushing his way onto the couch next to Elyse. âSo, we have to live vicariously through Adam.ââOr we could just ask Matt Peake about it,â Elyse suggested.âNo, I wanna know why Adamâs so embarrassed.â Lawrence grinned mischievously, poking Adam with his foot from his position above him on the couch.âIâm not embarrassed,â argued Adam. âBut Matt doesnât always like bringing it up.â Matt glanced over at Adam, giving him an appreciative smile before saying:âI donât mind. What did you want to know?â He asked, looking around at everyone, opening the question up. He was met with silence for a few moments, the group shocked that Matt was actually okay with them grilling him on this stuff. James certainly hadnât expected to get more than a flustered Adam and a disapproving headshake from Matt himself.âWhen are we all having a massive orgy?â James asked jokingly, just to break the silence. That time Elyse threw the cushion at him. When the giggles had died down a little, Lawrence spoke again.âWhat did you do? You and Adam, what did you guys do?ââWe had sex, Lawrence, what kind of question is that?â Adam cried, rolling over in Joelâs lap to look up at the man he was talking to.âOkay then, how did you do it?ââThe first time, Adam topped,â Matt answered, pulling his legs up under him on the couch. Spoole shuffled even closer, leaning on Adam so he could get a better view of everyone before he asked:âAre you comfortable with whatâs in your pants?â Matt felt Bruce tense up for a moment beside him, and leaned his head onto the older manâs shoulder, touched by how protective Bruce seemed to be.âSometimes?â Matt answered honestly. âNot sexually though. Having people touch me there grosses me out.ââBut we can touch you everywhere else?â James chirped eagerly from the floor. Mattâs cheeks flushed a little at the implication of James wanting to touch him everywhere. He swallowed in an attempt to soothe his suddenly dry throat before nodding.âEverywhere else is good,â he assured.âI canât wait to kiss your thighs,â Joel mused, whilst Spoole giggled at how romantic he was.âWait, you said that Adam topped the first time,â Lawrence exclaimed. âSo does that mean that youâve fucked Adam too?ââOnly a couple of times.â Adam moved again, trying to get comfortable. âUnfortunately.â Matt rolled his eyes at Adamâs complaint.âItâs way more than a couple,â he protested. âIt just doesnât happen as much as youâd like it to.ââIs Matt Peake a good lay?â Elyse asked in a stage whisper. Mattâs blush grew darker as Adam nodded enthusiastically.âMhm, and heâs not as quiet as you might think he is,â Adam teased, sneaking a glance towards Matt and noting Bruceâs wide-eyed expression when he did so.âI canât believe Kovicâs the only one whoâs slept with Matt,â James complained with a dramatic huff.âSomething tells me thatâs not gonna be the case for much longer,â laughed Joel. âEveryone but Bruce seems ready to jump him right now.ââThey live together; I wouldnât be surprised if theyâd fucked already.â Lawrence waved his hand in the direction of the pair who were currently pressed against one another at the other end of the couch.âOh my god, have you?â Spoole asked, realising how plausible that was.âI wish,â Matt muttered, any embarrassment he may have had about the topic long gone by now. âI donât know how many times Iâve bumped into Bruce after getting out of the shower, just for him to run away from me.ââWait, you were coming on to me?â Bruce cried, whipping his head round to look at Matt.âWasnât that obvious?â Matt laughed softly in response.âNo! I never made a move because I thought you wouldnât be comfortable with it.ââWhy wouldnât I be comfortable with my boyfriend hitting on me?ââI donât know! Because you never wanted to do anything like that with us before, so I just figuredâââI never slept with any of you guys because you thought I had a dick,â Matt explained with a small, fond smile. âNot because I didnât want to.ââMatt wants to sleep with all of us!â James repeated, holding his arm up in the air with his finger pointed at the ceiling.âJust not all at once,â Matt said through his laughter. Lawrence let out a small whine of disappointment, prompting everyone to break out into giggles.âLawrence really wants that orgy,â Elyse said gleefully, elbowing her boyfriend in question in his ribs teasingly.âIâll be in your orgy, Lawrence,â Joel comforted, stretching his arm up to pat Lawrenceâs leg.âIâm not saying never,â Matt added, sounding serious again now. âJust⊠I havenât been with any of you on your own before, besides Adam. I donât want my first time to be with all of you like that.ââItâs okay, Matt,â Bruce assured him, the arm he had around Mattâs waist pulling him in a little closer. âWeâre not in any kind of hurry.ââExcept you two are,â James corrected, twisting so he could point at the couple on the couch above him. âBecause poor Matt has been trying to get you into bed for who knows how long.ââGet Matt laid!â Elyse called, pumping her fist in the air. Matt simply shook his head in disbelief and grinned, leaning his head onto Bruceâs chest.âI give them a week,â Adam challenged, getting up to change the DVD which had looped back onto the menu screen.âI donât even think itâll take them that long,â Joel sighed. He dropped his head back onto the couch, starting to feel tired. Lawrence smirked, taking a slice of cold pizza from the box on the coffee table.âI say Matt gets him in bed within the next two days,â he said around his mouthful of food. Bruce covered his face with one hand and groaned, but Mattâs lips quirked into a mischievous smirk.âWeâll just have to wait and see,â Matt said innocently, catching the knowing glance Adam shot his way from across the room. Spoole muttered a half-hearted complaint about the fact Bruce lived with Matt, claiming it wasnât fair that they saw more of one another, but he stopped when Joel pulled him into his lap and began kissing Seanâs face in an attempt to comfort him. Adam sat himself on the loveseat and James made to join him, muttering about how his legs hurt from sitting on the floor for so long. He pushed himself behind Adam so the other man was laying between Jamesâs legs and settled in to watch the next movie of the night. The group lapsed into silence and it wasnât long before people started drifting off to sleep. Theyâd regret it when they awoke in the morning, they always did, but for now they were all content to snuggle up and enjoy being together.Matt remained awake for a while, thinking over the whole conversation that theyâd had. He was amazed by how accepting everyone was of his body and his preferences, was amazed at himself for being so open, and not once getting nervous. He fell asleep to thoughts of post-sex cuddles with each of his lovers, nuzzled his face into Bruceâs chest and sighed contentedly. That was something he could certainly look forward to.
Ship(s):Â FHOT8 / FHOT7, and a bunch of variations thereof (itâs one big poly mess okay)
Chapters: 1/1(?)
Warnings: references to alcohol/alcoholism, violence, murder, all that jazz which comes with gta aus
Word count: 10,571 (iâm so sorry)
AO3 mirror
AN: This was heavily influenced/inspired by the song 'You Learn to Live Without' from the musical If/Then. Sorry if this seems choppy when you read it; the sections aren't in chronological order, but if you listen to the song then it follows along with that. Iâm not sure if Iâm gonna write more of this from Bruceâs perspective, I just wanted to get it posted. Enjoy?
Bruce leaving hit all of them in different ways, but his departure was by no means easy for any of them. It took them a long time, which was completely understandable, given that theyâd lost a valued co-worker, someone they could look to and rely on whenever they were carrying out their admittedly unorthodox work. More importantly though, seven people had lost someone close to them, someone who was certainly more than just a friend, but thinking about labeling the complicated relationship they had had at this point only rubbed salt in the wound. And not only had they lost that friend, but said friend had in fact walked out on them.
The sting of abandonment was not one which quickly subsided, and for a while some members of the Fakehaus crew wondered if the gang would even hold it together. There were doubts about trust now, about what they went through together and if it was worth it the risk, since it was apparently so easy to walk away from it all. Well, they said easy. Nobody actually found the whole process smooth, not even the stoic Matt who was renowned for keeping his cool, for remaining somewhat emotionally detached.
Bruce was never technically their leader. Nobody was, in fact. They had a strange dynamic, one which arguably separated them from the other crews in Los Santos. The members of Fakehaus recognised each otherâs strengths, knew that nobody among them was good in every single situation. As a result, none of them were necessarily in charge; there was no hierarchy, no one person to make the final decision. Joel had once joked that they were a group of democratic criminals, and that was probably the best description one could come up with. Their heists were planned together, everyone had some sort of input into what they would do, how they would do it.
Of course, some of them (namely Adam and Bruce) were naturally better leaders, had a better knack for reigning people in if they got too distracted, too sloppy. But these people had no greater standing in the crew. So it wasnât that theyâd lost their crew leader, and maybe that was why they were hit so hard. In theory, Bruce was just another crew member, a different finger to pull the trigger, different hands on the wheel of a getaway car. In practice, it was like each of them lost a part of themselves, and nobody could bring themselves to replace it. Their crew fell from eight members to seven, and their response was to live with the loss.
Nobody was surprised to watch Lawrence descend deeper into the pit of alcoholism in the days following Bruceâs departure. He was borderline dependent at the worst of times, and it was no secret among them that it helped Lawrence cope. Heâd confessed that it made his brain shut up, and nobody could begrudge him a quiet reprieve, even if his liver ultimately paid the price in the long run.
After theyâd all dispersed that night, Lawrence had been itching to reach for something to calm him down, to numb him for a little while. Heâd tried to postpone the inevitable by turning on the TV, but within 30 minutes of sinking into his couch heâd gotten right back up again. He started out with beer and then moved onto stronger stuff, the alcohol not taking too long to kick into his system. He then retreated to his work, threw himself into coding and hacking, seeing more of a computer screen in the first three days than any of the people he called his friends. Adam eventually grew worried about the lack of contact, the texts heâd sent which Lawrence had completely ignored.
There was a knock at his door, and Lawrence debated ignoring it in favour of getting this job done and out of the way. However, another insistent knock and the muffled yelling he could just about make out from his desk told him that wouldnât be possible. He rose to his feet, drained what liquor had been left in his glass and poured himself another drink before heading to answer the door.
âAdam,â was all he offered in greeting, leaving the door open and retreating back into his home. Adam followed, closing the door and taking a look around. Lawrenceâs apartment was hardly the neatest place usually, what with the computer parts and various gadgets which were scattered about the place. Now, however, the tech was accompanied with scattered bottles which had once contained alcohol. The curtains were drawn shut, doing a great job of blocking out any natural light, and Adam didnât doubt that Lawrence hadnât left this building since that night, as Adam had started to refer to it in his head.
âHave you eaten?â He asked, clearly concerned, and Lawrence rolled his eyes at his friendâs typical mother hen attitude.
âI think I had a bag of pretzels yesterday,â replied Lawrence, falling onto the couch and rubbing his eyes. Adam appreciated his honesty, but sighed nonetheless. Lawrence really couldnât be trusted to take care of himself when this sort of thing happened, when his own emotions became too much for him.
âYou need food. And some fresh air, man. Itâs obvious youâve been staring at a monitor for way too long; you could do with a break. Câmon.â Lawrence regarded the other man, eyes slightly narrowed. Adam met the sceptical look with a stern one of his own and eventually Lawrenceâs shoulders slumped in defeat.
âYouâre buying,â he warned, pointing a finger at Adam and swallowing back the neat whiskey before disappearing to take a cold shower to help wake him up a little. He emerged in clean clothes and they silently agreed Adam would drive, both of them knowing Lawrence was practically dead on his feet, not to mention his blood alcohol level was probably through the roof.
Adam ended up getting him two cups of black coffee and a breakfast of corned beef hash, eggs, toast and hash browns. He looked like he needed the caffeine; the bags under Lawrenceâs eyes were more pronounced than usual, and Adam hated that he wasnât even surprised by his friendâs lack of sleep. Lawrence, in turn, hated that Adam looked so normal given the circumstances.
Their conversation topics stayed clear from anything work-related, and for a short while, neither of them thought of the friend that wouldnât be there next time the crew got together. Adam thought maybe theyâd be okay. Sure, Lawrence was struggling right now, as was the rest of the gang, he was sure. However, right now they could almost pretend things were normal. So he had hope, sue him. He knew, in the back of his mind, that once he and Lawrence parted ways again his friend would inevitably turn back to something stronger than coffee. He knew Lawrence well enough that he didnât doubt his friendâs ability to empty that bottle of whiskey heâd been making a dent in just a few hours ago.
Adam tried to stall for this reason, knowing Lawrence needed to do something else besides sitting in the dark drinking himself into numbness. Maybe Lawrence didnât realise this, but he wasnât about to complain about Adamâs company either. His mind was sufficiently distracted for now, and that whiskey would still be there when he finally got home.
âYou know you donât have to find comfort in the bottom of a bottle,â Adam said softly, his words more of a gentle reminder than a question.
âItâs a lot easier though, isnât it?â Replied Lawrence, daring to meet Adamâs eyes over his coffee cup. âIâve always got some vodka lying around.â
âWe can always be lying around. You just wonât let us.â
âYou say that, but yet youâre still here, right now. With me.â
âYeah, because I dragged you away. Iâm never here because you ask me to be, Iâm here because I know you need someone,â Adam explained, his patient tone and his lack of anger feeling like a punch to Lawrenceâs gut. He was used to disappointment, to people snapping and lecturing him on his self-destructive coping mechanisms. To have Adam seem so caring was always a shock, like ice water poured over his head, and Lawrence was left wondering how to react.
âNot that I donât appreciate your concern, but you really donât need to trouble yourself, just for future reference.â
âFuck, Lawrence,â Adam sighed, frustration finally creeping into the edges of his voice, but he sounded more upset than he did angry. âWhen are you gonna realise that this isnât a chore for me? For any of us. Youâre not an inconvenience, and the sooner you realise that, the better off weâll all be.â
âIâm more of an inconvenience to you than I am to liquor. And the alcohol stops me fromââ
âStops you from thinking too much, I know,â Adam interrupted. âI donât care if you feel like you need to drink. Iâm just saying, you can still talk to me, or to any of us, as well as keeping your mind quiet.â
âMy mind isnât quiet now that Iâm with you. Itâs telling me that weâre only having this conversation because Bruce left. Itâs reminding me that usually we all pull together when someone takes a hit, but now weâre all fucked up, and nobody knows how to handle it. It keeps wondering how youâre the one comforting me through this when you should be hurting too, and itâs thinking about how everyone else is probably doing just as badly as I am. Itâs questioning how long this whole thing is gonna last when apparently loving people isnât enough to stop you from walking away from them for the rest of your life.â
âDonât you drink to stop all of that?â
âDo I really need to answer that?â Lawrence shot back, his eyebrow arched.
âNot really,â shrugged Adam. âBut if you drink on your own because you think like that, then I donât see why you canât reach for us when you think like that too.â
âI guess Iâm not used to anyone caring,â replied Lawrence, and it broke Adam to hear those words leave the other manâs lips so casually. There was no hurt or anger in Lawrenceâs voice, only a calm acceptance. It just drove home how used to this Lawrence was, how long heâd had to cope on his own, how he hadnât been with them forever, hadnât always had friends around to look out for him.
âWell I care,â Adam stated, voice firm. âAnd you know everyone else does too. Just⊠Think about calling me the next time you drink yourself into oblivion, okay?â
âOh, youâre gonna regret that offer when you start getting calls from me every night,â he laughed.
âIâll never regret offering to help someone that I care about, Lawrence,â Adam replied seriously, making Lawrence pause, his fork halfway between his plate and his mouth, his chest feeling funny at the utter concern Adam had for him. Adam wanted Lawrence to be okay, wanted to be there for him at three in the morning when Lawrence was long passed sobriety and well on his way to crying himself to sleep. Adam would be happy to go around to Lawrenceâs apart every goddamn night like clockwork if it meant Lawrence felt even a little bit better about himself.
Lawrence never did take Adam up on the offering of calling when he needed him. So, Adam made a point to stop by frequently and check up on him, to spend time with Lawrence and pull him away from his computer. Lawrence never vocalised it, but he was privately very grateful for Adamâs company. Sure, he felt guilty when he woke up the next morning and realised Adam had wasted his night babysitting a drunk Lawrence, but whilst he was actually drunk, Lawrence loved every moment Adam spent with him. He liked feeling as if someone cared for him, liked that he didnât need to ask Adam for anything, but Adam still came and made sure heâd eaten and talked to Lawrence about whatever the hell the hacker wanted to ramble on about. Mostly, they both liked trying to have a good time despite the fact Bruce was no longer a part of their lives.
James didnât want to admit how much the whole situation had hurt him, not even to himself, let alone anyone else. Even Elyse only got glimpses of his emotions, because James didnât want to admit they were there. What she did notice was how much James had come to dislike their home now. He couldnât hide how much he hated being there, had no control over the subconscious repulsion of the place that he was supposed to feel safe in. Every second he spent in his living room was one in which he was reminded that there was one less person here now. James dealt with this by not staying in more than he needed to. Elyse didnât mind being at home, but she understood why James felt the way he did. She too missed Bruceâs presence, and although the house felt even emptier with James gone too, she was comforted by the fact heâd at least be back.
James thrived off adrenaline, got reckless and desperate to throw himself into frankly stupid situations, because at least then he had some form of control. He couldnât think about his best friend deciding to walk out of his life, out of all their lives, not when he was surrounded by danger. James was breathless, could feel his heart hammering, and heard the blood pounding in his ears. The smells of a shoot-out; petrol, blood, copper and dust, clung to him and it was more soothing than jarring. He was used to this. Watching as the LSPD tried (and failed) to do something, emptying magazines into police officers and rival gang members alike. James was good at this, confident and, most importantly, not emotionally invested. It was about as close to relaxed as he was going to get, and he thrived off the rush he got from wreaking havoc on the city.
When he did eventually get home, he was tired from exertion, crashing now that his body had stopped pumping adrenaline through his system. His clothes were often bloodied, or torn, or would bring the smell of fire and smoke back into his home. He never had the energy to was them, and found himself eternally grateful for the contacts they had which allowed him to send in blood-stained clothes to a dry cleaners on a semi-regular basis, no questions asked.
Where James was once strict about making his own meals, he now avoided the kitchen as if it had some sort of infectious disease. Elyse knew he wasnât himself when James came home one night and ordered Chinese takeout from the first place he found a menu for. Briefly, she realised, she should probably be more concerned that James was getting involved in gun fights every other night, but in their line of work, that wasnât too out of the ordinary. What was out of the ordinary, however, was James slacking on his fitness because he couldnât stand to make food which wasnât full of grease and God knows what else. He still went to them gym, if anything more so now than before, but she knew this was just an excuse to be away, something else that could calm James without attracting police attention.
 âYou canât keep running away forever,â she mentioned casually when there was a lull in their conversation, both of them sat cross-legged on their bed, cartons of food spread around them and some old movie playing on TV that theyâd both seen a hundred times before.
âIf I donât run, then the cops shoot me,â James quipped back instantly, witty as always with a playful grin on his face which looked just a little too forced. Elyse gave him a small smile, but rolled her eyes at his attempt to dodge the real issue here.
âThatâs not what I meant. You know that,â Elyse responded, caught Jamesâs gaze for a moment before he looked down at his food, shrugging one shoulder.
âHe ran. I can do the same.â
âYouâre not running from people, James, youâre running from emotions. I donât care if you wanna go out and settle turf wars or whatever, but you canât keep doing it just so you donât have to deal with your problems.â
âYou done with the lecture?â He prompted when Elyse stopped talking, and she sighed heavily, knowing she wasnât getting through to him. James had already decided that he didnât want to have this conversation, and trying to get him to listen now would be nigh on impossible.
âIâll stop the lectures when you stop trying to avoid the situation,â she explained patiently, didnât rise to the challenge heâd presented because she knew they were all hurting enough already, that they were just emotional and tense and searching for some kind of outlet for all the pent up pain and anger. âYou donât wanna talk about it now? Fine. But this isnât something that will go away with the more people you kill. Youâre gonna have to face this eventually, James.â
âThanks, but I am an adult. I can handle it,â James insisted, clearly indicating that he was done talking about this. Elyse didnât miss the way his eyes avoided hers, how James suddenly seemed interested in the movie. He knew that seeing the mixture of sadness and disappointment on her face would tear open that wound heâd been trying his best to heal, and Elyse understood that. So she didnât push James any further, at least not that night. She just trusted that he would talk eventually, and wouldnât get himself blown up in the meantime.
Joelâs initial reaction was one of stress, along with the obvious sadness. He worried about his friends, about their crew, about how they could move on. He wondered if theyâd even recover from such a monumental blow, both as individuals and as a group of people whose livelihoods depended on them co-operating. He felt somewhat responsible for the rest of his crew, but he had no way to console them over this, besides offering physical comfort. Given the lack of communication between them over the last 24 hours, he doubted that anyone was looking for that. He supposed they were all too raw, still trying to come to terms with the fact Bruce just walked out on them. Joelâs stupidly poetic brain comes up with some lines which hit too close to home for him to actually write them down. Theyâre lines which lament of their own mortality, the irony of getting shot at regularly and yet when they lose one of their own itâs not because of a death, which theyâd all expected. The suspension of belief that this would last until they all went down, fighting and together had shattered. Bruce had defied all of their expectations, and Joel felt cruel for thinking it, but perhaps thatâs why this hurt so much. Nobody had seen this coming.
Fakehaus dealt with death on an all too regular basis; it was the nature of their work. They made their money through the strategic use of bullets and explosives, and they all knew, in the back of their minds, that it was only a matter of time before it came back around and bit one of them on the ass. Then they lost Bruce on a quiet night, no guns besides the ones they kept on themselves for personal safety, the sirens in the background not a result of their antics for a change. Bruce hadnât gone the way theyâd expected, had ran from the fight instead of going out as a martyr. Somehow that made things worse, at least in Joelâs eyes.
As far as their business was concerned, he had no idea what their next move was. They were usually on top of jobs, preparations, doing supply runs and planning for their next big task. Now Joel wasnât sure if heâd even be able to get everyone back in for another operation, let alone come up with a time frame. He knew they couldnât be idle for too long. After all, they had a reputation to uphold, and whilst he understood this was a difficult situation, taking an extended break to deal with the fallout of Bruceâs departure wouldnât do them any favours.
He read over an email from one of their arms dealers for what felt like the fiftieth time before giving up, locking his phone and setting it down on his kitchen counter. Joel leaned down, elbows propped on the granite as he cradled his own face in his hands, rubbed his temples in circular motions to try and ease the tension headache he could feel brewing behind his eyes.
âThis whole situation is fucked up,â he mumbled to himself. His phone buzzed again, the familiar chime that signalled a new email which was followed by a low groan from Joel, who still had his eyes closed. He decided to ignore whoever was sending him work related messages, feeling he could take tonight off, at least. Tomorrow heâd start trying to put the pieces of their crew back together, but he knew he was too swamped with his own emotions to do anything productive for the remainder of the evening.
Joel opted instead to run himself a bath, knowing he would be able to lay down and not feel completely stressed out for the duration of his soak in the hot, soapy water. He turned off his business phone to make sure he remained undisturbed, bringing his emergency cell into the bathroom, on the off chance one of the guys needed him. They were the only ones with the number for his backup, so if something was really wrong, theyâd still be able to contact him. You could never be sure what issue would suddenly arise with the lifestyle they led. He took painkillers to soothe the dull throbbing in his head, and played his favourite calming music to really help him settle down. Let it be known that Joel Rubin didnât do things by halves; if he was going to have a relaxing night wherein he indulged himself, then he was going to go all out on the indulgent front.
That, of course, meant he ended up drinking two expensive bottles of pinot noir by himself, but really, he didnât care. Not even when the alcohol got to his brain, when he started to get emotional and less detached from the situation than heâd intended. Because goddamnit, heâd loved Bruce, and losing him so suddenly hurt and Joel was allowed to feel upset about this. He was allowed to be angry at someone who treated him, who treated their whole crew like they werenât important, like none of them had ever meant anything to him. Joel was allowed to wonder how Bruce could give it all up so easily, and he was allowed to have one night where he let this get to him.
And it really was just for the night. Joel awoke the next morning, his headache now completely self-inflicted and slightly more bearable because of that fact. His hangover wasnât too pressing though, and he honestly didnât regret anything heâd done yesterday. Turning his phone off had been a wise idea in hindsight, as it meant he hadnât drunkenly called anyone, and he could now spend the day having normal conversations without the involvement of any alcohol. Unless he ended up speaking to Lawrence, of course.
His first port of call was Adam, since Joel trusted him to be one of the more composed ones out of them all. Joel was right in that assumption. He also wasnât surprised that Adam hadnât been able to get through to Lawrence, but was comforted by Adamâs determination to get their resident hacker at least talking to him, even if he couldnât be coaxed out of his apartment just yet. He learned from Elyse that James seemed to be handling things in his own way, and whilst Joel was pretty sure that meant James was avoiding the issue altogether, he knew that Elyse would take care of him and pull James back in if things went too far. She was probably the best person to get through to him anyway, he reasoned. Also, Elyse herself seemed largely unaffected by the whole thing, and so Joel trusted her to take hold the fort on that front.
Joel had already decided that heâd visit Spoole later that day, since he was sure the younger man would want to talk things over. Spoole was the one Joel was most concerned about, the one he didnât trust to handle this completely by himself. They all joked about babying him, but Joelâs protective instinct really did run deep when it came to the young man. So, Joel called Matt before heading out, wondering if heâd be there, if they could all go somewhere together. The phone went to voicemail. That was odd, though it wasnât completely unheard of. Matt was probably busy. So, Joel left a message, wishing Matt well and promising to call him back later.
All of Joelâs following calls also went unanswered. Matt knew that Joel wasnât calling because he sought comfort over all of this, and so he didnât bother answering or returning the missed calls. He knew that he needed to be there for the rest of his crew, that some of them wouldnât take the loss of one of their members as well as the others. Joel was one of the ones he trusted to remain level headed, and the multiple voicemails on Mattâs phone confirmed that Joel was trying to placate Matt, not seeking comfort himself. And so, Matt saw no need to rush back to the city. Right now, he had more pressing matters to deal with. Like the absence of his younger companion.
Matt had left to restock some supplies, not knowing how much longer theyâd be out here. When he got back, Spoole and his bike were both gone, and Matt sighed heavily, running a hand over his face. He didnât care if Spoole had felt the need to get away, he just wished that heâd told Matt he was going. Spoole had been a mess for the past four days theyâd spent out here, and that was putting it politely as far as Matt was concerned. Heâd been there for his friend, though, and that was what mattered. Heâd managed to keep his own feelings locked down, had been there for someone he loved when they needed him the most. That was the important thing here.
He listened to the new messages from Joel, found out that heâd been trying to get hold of Spoole too, had been round to visit them, found the apartment empty and was growing worried. He sent Joel a simple text which simply read âGot away for a while. Seanâs with me, no need to worry.â He didnât need to know where theyâd gone (after all, theyâd left to escape everything for a little while, their crew included) and he trusted that Joel wouldnât track them down now he knew what was going on. He was pretty understanding, and Matt could be trusted to care for both Spoole and himself, after all.
Though Mattâs self-care right now only extended to meeting all of his physical needs. He kept himself clean, fed and hydrated, made sure Spoole did the same. The difference between them was that Spoole was open about his emotional issues. He was upset, rightly so, and Matt supported him through it. This meant Matt had to be strong, couldnât let Spoole down and crumble like a part of him wanted to. He had someone relying on him, needing him, and as usual Matt put the needs of his friends before his own.
Matt learned very quickly that his stoic, deadpan nature coupled with his quiet demeanour meant people assumed he was largely nonplussed when it came to emotional issues. Of course, he never challenged this assessment, since being perceived as cold-hearted worked in his favour when it came to doing his job. To some extent it was true; Matt had no qualms about taking his sniper rifle and putting bullets in the heads of strangers. Eliminating threats or taking out corrupt people was something he could do without a second thought, but there were people he cared about, people he loved. The members of his crew were people who Matt would protect with his own life, people heâd killed for and with, people who Matt wanted to keep safe. Bruce had been one of those people.
Granted, Bruce was often the one who tried to keep Matt safe, especially during their downtime. Matt couldnât bring himself to think back on nights spent together, jokes shared between them, the wounds theyâd tended to and the way their skin brushed so frequently, casually. He knew heâd miss Bruce more off the job than on one. They could bring in another gangbanger; this city was full of criminals, some of them almost as talented, and guaranteed to improve with experience. Only their crew ran deeper than that. They werenât just crooks who ran together, yet that was all Bruce had seen, apparently. Heâd walked out on them like he was leaving a dead-end job, like he didnât care about any of them, like nobody cared for him.
Matt cared. He cared more than he was willing to admit. He hated how quiet he was, berates himself now for allowing Bruce to go without saying a damn word to him. Matt couldâve screamed, could have cried, accused Bruce of so many things and questioned him like theyâd pulled him in for an interrogation. As always, though, Matt kept quiet, and his resolve hadnât broken yet. The anger and the pain he felt hadnât subsided as such, but heâd shoved it to the side-lines, because he had responsibilities, and he couldnât let his emotions get in the way of that. Heâd managed to keep quiet up until now, could supress the urge to shout or to cry when he was distracted, when he could focus on Spoole, on making sure that his boyfriend was okay. He could offer comforting smiles, wrap his arms around Spooleâs shoulders as they shake and hold him until the sobs subsided.
âI know, itâs okay. Weâre gonna be okay,â Matt had murmured over and over, the rhetoric a comfort to Spoole and to himself, though it was mostly for the benefit of the former. Matt would rather that, would rather take a deep breath and push away his own worries and help someone else through this mess, because that was more beneficial. Ultimately, his happiness wasnât as important as the happiness of the people he cared about.
Given that James could barely tolerate to sit on their couch because of the connections his mind made, the responsibility of clearing out Bruceâs belongings fell to Elyse. The first morning she woke up without him in her life, she set to work gathering his things heâd left in the house. It was mostly clothes, casual things that Bruce would wear on lazy-days, shorts which were well-worn in and t-shirts whose colours had long ago faded, the designs faint and obscured. Things that wouldnât be missed and were easily replaced, and so hadnât been high on Bruceâs list of priorities. Elyse recalled James leaving last night, sat on the edge of their bed, her hands clutching a pair of Bruceâs socks which had been rolled into a ball.
âI canât be here,â James had said, springing up from the bed that neither of them had been sleeping in, already pulling on a pair of jeans.
âJames, itâs four in the morning,â Elyse had tried to reason, sitting up but making no move to pull James back to her.
âI donât care. I canât be in this house, not now, not thatâŠâ He had trailed off, Elyseâs chest going tight as she caught the way his voice cracked. He was hurting, and pretending things were normal was only making it worse. âI need to get out and do something, to be someplace where I donât have to think about any of this.â
Elyse understood that. So, she had let him go, sat up in the dark watching him dress, grab his gun and his keys and disappear into the night. She didnât want to think of what he was going to do, she just hoped it would help him. She went back to sleep and when she woke she knew that she needed to get rid of Bruceâs things, for Jamesâs sake. If he could feel his absence just lying in bed, then the shorts strewn casually on their bedroom floor or the CDs which neither of them would dream of buying for themselves would only serve as a more poignant reminder of their loss.
Everything was packed into garbage bags, and Elyse wondered briefly if she should put them in the garage, in case Bruce came back for them. She then immediately chided herself for her optimism, for allowing herself to believe that he wasnât gone for good. Bruce had made it perfectly clear that he was cutting all ties. Elyse reasoned that burning his bridges was a two way street. Neither she nor James should have any false hope about seeing him again, and keeping those bags wouldnât be fair on either of them. So the bags were loaded into her car, and Bruceâs old clothes were donated to a charity store. Theyâd be more use there than sat waiting for an owner who wouldnât come back for them.
She couldnât bring herself to be angry at Bruce, even when she saw how hard James was hit. Elyse couldnât resent him for walking away from all this, because their lifestyle was fucked up, and no matter how much it hurt to lose him, Elyse could never hate someone for wanting a better life. Especially not someone like Bruce, someone she loved, somebody who deserved better than all this. She was sad, sure. She missed him singing in the mornings as he made breakfast, and she missed waking up to see his face. She missed watching him and James yell at each other as they played video games, missed curling up with the two of them to watch movies and eat pizza. But at the same time, Elyse knew that what they did was dangerous and stupid, and not at all sustainable. Their lives were more than sweet domestic moments, and as far as she was concerned, the cons could easily outweigh the pros when you were in this game. Your life was a big price to pay, and honestly, Elyse was glad that she lost Bruce when his heart was still beating. She didnât voice this to James, of course, as she knew he couldnât believe what Bruce had done. James couldnât understand why he would walk away from the money, the adrenaline, the people he loved. Elyse could, and hoped James would come to see Bruceâs side of things in time, when the blow of losing him wasnât so fresh.
However, when a week had passed and James was still spending a minimal amount of time in their home, Elyse started worrying a little more about how well he was really coping. She hadnât heard from anyone but Joel, who had apparently been keeping tabs on everyone and then providing a stream of updates to the whole crew, confirming that nobody had disappeared or gotten hurt. Which was only mildly reassuring, given that she still couldnât remember the last time all of them had been apart for this long.
Some action was required on her part, she decided. Elyse sent out a group message to everyone, telling them nothing but. âOur place, ASAP. We need to talk about this.â She had hope that all of them would actually show up, it was just a matter of when everyone would be here. In the meantime, she mulled around, cleaning up bits and pieces in the house, just so she wouldnât have to sit on the couch in silence, waiting for somebody to arrive.
That first somebody was James, letting himself in and stopping at the kitchen to look around for his girlfriend.
âElyse?â He called, and heard a quiet:
âIn here,â coming from the bedroom. He wandered down to find her making the bed, and it hit him how much James had been neglecting her. Heâd forgotten that he wasnât the only one missing Bruce, that Elyse had lived with him and laughed with him and loved him just the same way James himself had. Elyse was just better at dealing with it, he supposed. She always was stronger than him.
âHey,â he muttered eventually, after a long silence, and Elyse looked up from the runner she was adjusting, a grin tugging at the corners of her lips.
âHi there,â she replied calmly, and if it werenât for her actions, then her expression and her tone wouldâve fooled James into thinking that she wasnât stressed. Before he could comment, ask if she was okay, Elyse wrinkled up her nose and looked over the man.
âYou need to shower and change before anyone else gets here,â she told him flatly. âYou smell like a bonfire.â
âYes sir,â James replied sarcastically, giving her a mock salute that had Elyse rolling her eyes and throwing a pillow at him. Her small grin stretched into a smile at the laugh that action managed to pull from James. He caught the pillow he tossed back to her. She went back to making the bed as James stepped into the closet, pulling out clean clothes to put on when he got back. âElyse,â he murmured, his quivering voice causing her head to shoot up immediately.
Elyseâs eyes fell on Jamesâs deadpan expression, a clear attempt to keep whatever was in his head off his face. Then they dropped to his hands. She sighed apologetically, instantly recognising the suit James was holding as one which had once belonged to Bruce.
âFuck. I didnât think to check your closet, Iâm sorry,â she apologised, voice soft and sincere. âI thought Iâd got everything,â she thought aloud, moving around the bed and taking the suit from Jamesâs hands, which remained there for a moment, poised stiffly in mid-air, before falling limply to his sides.
âItâs fine,â he assured, brain running on autopilot. Elyse thought he looked very many things in that moment, but fine was not one of them. In fact, âshockedâ was the one word which jumped out at her when she took in her boyfriendâs wide eyes (which were still staring off at the space Elyse had previously occupied).
âYouâre not,â Elyse argued gently, dropping the suit onto their neatly made bed. She placed her hands on Jamesâs forearms, tilted her head until her eyes met his. âItâs okay. You miss him. Youâre allowed to miss him.â
âElyse, Iââ
âYou still need to shower,â she interrupted. âGo. We can talk about this when everyone gets here. From what I can gather from Joel, youâre not the only one who has some stuff he needs to get off his chest.â James took a few moments to think about this before nodding slowly. Elyse moved her hands away from his arms, watched him walk to the master bathroom and waited until the door closed, until she heard the water start running before she heaved a heavy sigh.
Elyse moved to the closet which had been left open, sorting through the clothes and taking out the odd item which wasnât Jamesâs, depositing them on the bed along with the suit. She knelt and checked the shoes in the rack on the floor, finding only one pair which had belonged to Bruce. She picked up the well-worn grey and yellow sneakers which Bruce had worn so frequently, and tossed them onto the pile of clothes. She gave them a sad smile, about to look for a bag she could put them into when she heard muffled noises coming from upstairs.
âJames, I think some of the guys are here! Iâll meet you up there,â she called through the door before dashing off to investigate the source of the noises sheâd heard. As she reached the top of the stairs she could make out the sound more clearly; the familiar pounding of impatient fists at her front door, accompanied with the muted yelling of her name and Jamesâs. She dashed over and pulled the door open, smiling apologetically. âHey, sorry, we were downstairs,â she explained, stepping back and holding the door open by means of an invitation.
Lawrence immediately entered and made himself welcome, Adam right behind him as the hacker walked on to the living room. Elyse looked around outside, wondering how far off everyone else was.
âJoel was right behind us, he should be here soon,â Adam called, almost as if he could read Elyseâs mind. She nodded and stepped out a little further, getting a better view of the winding road outside their house. Sure enough, she caught Joel walking up not two minutes later, and smiled as he approached.
âI parked further down; figured you wouldnât want fifty cars outside here.â
âYouâre always so smart, Joel!â She exclaimed, only teasing him slightly, and he chuckled at the compliment. The pair retreated inside then, Elyse assuming that Peake and Spoole might take a while, depending on where theyâd ran off to.
âI always say, I have to have something to offer, or you wouldnât keep me around.â
âIâd keep you around for that great ass alone!â Lawrence chimed in as they approached, and Joel rolled his eyes despite the grin gracing his features.
âAnd I thought I was more than just a pretty to face to you,â Joel sighed, shaking his head and feigning sadness.
âObviously you are, because everyone knows I have the prettiest face around here,â interjected James as he came up the stairs behind them, now dressed in casual sweatpants and a baseball shirt, his hair still damp from the shower. He took a look around the room, taking note of everyone who was here. âWhere are Peake and Spoole?â
âMatt said they took off some time last week,â Joel offered, switching almost instantly from light-hearted and playful to serious. âHe didnât say where. They could take a while.â
âIf I know Matt, theyâre as off the grid as you can get around here,â Adam contributed, leaning on the kitchen counter. âBut, heâll also get back as quickly as he can if you ask for him.â
âWe can always count on Matt Peake,â Joel agreed, his statement met with solemn nods from everyone else. Elyse was pretty sure she wasnât the only one to think of a certain crew member they couldnât count on, not if the crestfallen looks on everyoneâs faces were anything to go by. She sighed to herself, looking around the group and noting how the joy from their teasing had gone already, leaving no trace. All she saw in that moment were her boys, broken and trying to hold themselves together without Bruce to help them, the looks of contemplation or grief, of men who were deep in their thoughts or trying to keep their emotions at bay. She hated seeing them so upset.
âYou guys wanna help me make something to eat until they get here?â She asked, trying to lighten the mood and alleviate the awkward tension that had settled over them. They all took the opportunity gladly, responding with nods and eager affirmatives. They were all happy for something that would pass the time without much need for conversation.
When Elyse had sent the text, Spoole had been out again. He was glad that Matt had taken him away from the city, but he sometimes found that even sitting around in their temporary residence was too much for him. Initially Matt had worried when Spoole disappeared, sometimes for hours at a time, but before long he stopped shooting Sean concerned glances and instead welcomed him back with offers of food and cuddles on the couch. Matt never once asked him where he went or why, and Spoole was eternally grateful for that. He had enough going through his mind already, without having to feel guilty about worrying Matt too.
Matt not demanding an explanation of him was a huge weight lifted off Spooleâs shoulders. It meant he could take his motorcycle, disappear into the mountains and just forget about everything for a while. He found comfort in the wilderness, felt under no pressure at all when the only other sentient life around him was the occasional deer. Spoole tended to avoid beaten tracks when he could, not wanting to encounter any hikers whilst he was out wrestling with his own emotions. Rarely, he would go right up to Mount Chiliad, most of the time when it was late at night and no other people would be out and walking the mountain paths. He rode his bike so far and the walked to the peak, looked down at lights from the city below. The wind was cold, more prevalent up here, and Spoole would pull his jacket tighter around himself, let the tear tracks dry stiff onto his cheeks.
He would look and wonder where Bruce was, if he was amongst the bustle of the city that Spoole had been so keen to leave behind. Or had he had similar thoughts, had he ran from them and anything that would remind Bruce of the life he had given up on. Spoole wondered, hoped deep down, that Bruce was missing them as much as they missed him. He had to, Spoole convinced himself. On nights when such thoughts filled Seanâs head, he would scream and let the winds carry his voice away, shouts which would fall on no ears but his own. He was free to cry here, didnât have to worry about Mattâs concerned glances, about judgemental looks from strangers. He could yell and sob and cry at the darkness and nobody would know or care about how broken Spoole was over this.
Eventually he stopped crying, but he still ran. Whereas before he would get away and be hit with his feelings like a freight train, now it was just habit. He wasnât overcome with tears for no reason, wasnât plagued by that sinking feeling in his chest when he realised he would probably never see Bruce again. He was moving slowly towards acceptance, or maybe heâd just become numb to his own sadness. He wasnât sure, and didnât want to dwell on the matter for fear of tugging at a thread which would unravel a plethora of other issues Spoole didnât want to deal with. So instead he embraced the silence of his mind, sat on a rock looking down at the faint outlines of civilisation and tried to appreciate what he did have.
He had Matt, always ready to pull Spoole into his arms as soon as Spoole got back. Down there, among the distant, blinking lights of Los Santos he had five other people who cared about him, who were all dealing with the same issue, in their own way. He had the choice to get away from it all, had room to breathe or scream or do whatever else he needed to make the whole thing easier. He felt more grateful when he was out alone, the stars overhead making him and his problems feel insignificant. The winds still blew around him, biting at him through his jacket, but they were quieter when they didnât carry his shouts with them. He took deep breaths, remembered that he still had plenty of great people in his life, despite the one heâd lost.
Spoole lost track of the days, forgot how long it had been since Bruce left, since they came here, since he got a decent sleep at night. He wasnât sure how many times heâd cried or how often Matt had pulled him in close to console him. He didnât take note of the hours he spent out in the forest, on the mountains, the time he wasted doing nothing but thinking.
He never took his phone with him (after all, he was trying to get away from everything and everyone), so by the time he saw Elyseâs message, it was pointless anyway. He got back from one of his outings, and Matt was packing up the small amount of stuff theyâd brought with them.
âAre we going back?â Spoole asked, surprised that Matt had sprung into action like this without even warning Spoole that he intended on leaving.
âElyse text everyone; sheâs called a crew meeting at her and Jamesâs place,â he explained, looking up from the rucksack he was packing T-shirts into and giving Spoole a sympathetic smile. âI wouldâve told you, butâŠâ
âItâs fine, donât worry,â Spoole assured, waving a hand dismissively. âWeâve probably been away long enough, right?â
âItâs enough when you say it is,â Matt shrugged, not glancing at Spoole as he spoke now, focused on getting everything packed so they could get going.
âUnless Elyse demands us back,â he laughed, managing to quirk Mattâs lips up into one of his precious smiles that Spoole never grew tired of.
âUnless Elyse demands us back,â he agreed, zipping up the rucksack and picking up the other one heâd apparently already filled. âWhich she has. So⊠Ready to go?â
âReady,â Spoole nodded, trying to feign confidence as he stepped forwards and took one of the bags off Peake. If Matt could see right through Spooleâs false composure, he didnât make it obvious.
âIâll get the door,â Adam said quickly, though all of them rose to their feet when they heard someone knocking. They had made dinner together, sat down and ate most of their food when they were interrupted by the soft thudding of a fist on wood. Nobody was concerned with finishing their food now, and the group moved, standing around the couches in the living room. Adam returned with Matt and Sean in tow, glancing around at everyone and then moving to clear the table, since he figured they wouldnât be getting back to their meal now that they were about to start talking business.
âWhere have you guys been?â Lawrence asked, not concerned with boundaries and privacy in the same way the rest of them were. Spoole opened his mouth, ready to politely tell Lawrence that he didnât need to know, when Matt spoke up beside him.
âPaleto bay,â he replied steadily. âWell, sort of.â
âStrange time to take a vacation,â Lawrence teased, and as usual, Matt didnât take the bait.
âDonât knock it until you try it,â he murmured, shrugging one shoulder.
âWhy did we have to come back, is something wrong?â Spoole asked before Lawrence could come up with some other witty response.
âYou mean other than the fact weâve all been practically ignoring each other for the last week?â Joel deadpanned. Adam sighed, returning from the kitchen where heâd been scraping their plates and loading up the dishwasher.
âI know itâs tough going guys,â he started, âBut I think we need to pull together again.â
âI hate to play the part of the strict boss here, but if weâre gonna keep this crew together, we canât really afford to waste any more time,â Joel added. âYou guys know what happens to gangs that go quiet. We either get back in the saddle soon, or our hard earned reputation goes out of the window.â
âSo weâre here so we can all be whipped and sent back to work?â questioned Lawrence.
âNo, I called you all here because we need to talk about this shit,â Elyse cut in. âI know weâre all missing Bruce. Nobody likes the fact that heâs gone. But if we just ignore each other and be down about it, weâre gonna lose everything else, too.â
âIt just feels wrong,â muttered Spoole, eyes not leaving his feet. âTo do anything without him here.â
âI know,â Elyse sighed, sympathetic and understanding. âI know weâve never had to be without him, without anyone, in this way before. But Bruce is gone. It fucking sucks, but itâs gonna suck even more if it means we let the rest of this go on top of that.â
âElyse is right,â Adam said. âWe still have each other. We should focus on that now, not what we lost.â
âThatâs a lot easier said than done,â Lawrence protests with a sarcastic laugh. All eyes fall to him and he shrugs, not caring about the glares heâs receiving from certain members of the crew. âWhat? Iâm just saying. You think any of us want to be miserable over this whole thing? I donât know about you guys, but I wouldâve gladly taken the move on option as soon as Bruce walked out of that door, but thatâs not how the world works.â
âLawrence,â Adam began, soft and ready to offer comfort, but Lawrence was apparently having none of it.
âNo, Adam. You donât get to just wave your hand and make it all okay. It hurts. I know that you miss him just as much as the rest of us, and thatâs fine. What you donât realise is that itâs okay for us to be fucked up over this. Itâs okay to want time to get over it, and pretending that everyoneâs okay again just so we can get back to work doesnât fix anything.â
âGuys, can we not fight?â Joel pleaded, already sensing the direction that the conversation was going in.
âIâm not fighting!â Lawrence protested. âIâm trying to point out that weâre all in the same shitty boat here, and we need to deal with it.â
âWhat else can we do besides get on with our lives?â Adam contested.
âTalk about it, maybe? God knows that we havenât spoken to each other properly since Bruce went bye-bye, and clearly this whole âfigure it out yourselfâ thing hasnât got us anywhere. So maybe we need a different approach.â
âYou want us to sit in a circle and say whatâs on our minds?â James asked, mockingly.
âIf thatâs the only thing thatâs going to work, then yes!â
âIâm not having a group therapy session, Lawrence, but thanks for the offer,â the blue-eyed man stated firmly.
âNo James, yâknow what, youâre right. Blowing up cop cars is a much more effective way of coping with your emotions than having a fucking conversation.â
âSays the guy whose best friend for the past week has been a whiskey bottle.â
âGuys!â Adam snapped, trying to reign them back in before they tore each otherâs throats out. âThis isnât helping anyone.â
âNothing is gonna help us, is it?â Spoole sighed, finally looking around the room. âWe donât know what the hell to do without him.â
âWe keep going,â Elyse remarked. âI lost Bruce, Iâm not about to let the rest of you go too. We figure something out, and we move on. Iâm not saying we forget about him, and Iâm not saying we pretend everything is alright. But we canât let this tear us apart.â
âElyse is right,â Adam sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. âWe have to learn to be a crew without Bruce here.â
âSo what, we just plan our next heist and wait for it stop hurting?â Joel questioned, though there was no malice in his tone, only genuine curiosity and maybe a pinch of doubt.
âI donât know that it will ever stop hurting,â admitted Adam. âWe⊠We all lost someone we loved, and I donât think that woundâs going to heal any time soon. Maybe it never will. But itâs gonna get easier over time.â
âOh, and you know that, do you?â James challenged. âAdam with his crystal ball can see that weâll be one big happy family again in the future, guys, donât worry.â
âJames, stop making this more difficult than it already is,â Joel pleaded.
âWeâre all trying our best, and right now thatâs all weâve got,â Lawrence sighed, tired and in need of a stiff drink by this point.
âI think Adamâs right,â offered Spoole. âThis whole thing hurts, and it sucks, but if we keep trying to fight with each other instead of fixing it, then it wonât ever get any easier.â
 Adam ready to thank Spoole for defending him, looked around to see the slumped shoulders of his friends who were quickly growing tired of the arguing. Then his eyes fell on Matt and he realised he was the only one who hadnât said anything this whole time. Matt was stood stiffly, hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie and his eyes darting about almost nervously.
âHey, Matt,â Adam called softly, trying to draw his attention. Mattâs wide eyes snapped up and, if Adam didnât know better, he wouldâve said he looked frightened. âAre you okay, man?â
The next sequence of events seemed surreal, the memories blurred and hazy because none of them knew exactly what happened, but the question sparked a change in the atmosphere. Matt opened his mouth to answer, but suddenly it was all too much, and he couldnât ignore the lump in his throat or the burn in his eyes any longer. He privately cursed Adam and his concern as Matt felt tears spilling from his eyes, heard a feeble noise of anguish and realised it must have come from his own lips.
Adam was across the room in a split second, confused and worried as he wrapped his arms around Mattâs torso, pulled him in close until there was no space between them. The others watched on in shock as Matt curled into Adamâs larger frame, buried his head into Adamâs chest and hoped that his sobs werenât too audible. Nobody had ever seen Matt this emotional before. Even Adam, who had gone to college with Matt, had been by his side through most of the shit Matt had dealt with. Through all of it, Adam had never once seen Matt cry. He wondered how none of them ever thought to check up on him and not just Spoole, why everyone assumed that Matt would be fine. Adam hated himself for not making sure Matt was okay.
âIâm sorry,â Matt choked out, his voice muffled by Adamâs shirt and broken from the all the emotions he was experiencing.
âHey, donât,â Adam shushed him pressing kisses to Mattâs head as he rubbed the smaller manâs back comfortingly. âYou have nothing to apologise for.â
âIâm supposed to be strong,â Matt argued, breath hitching and his arms clinging tightly where they were wrapped around Adamâs waist, fingers fisting at the other manâs shirt. âIâm supposed to make sure youâre all okay.â
âYou donât have to be strong all the time, Matt,â James insisted, coming up besides the pair and laying a comforting hand on Mattâs shoulder. Matt flinched at the touch, pulling away from Adam so he could scowl at James.
âYes I do!â He snapped. âLook at us. Everyoneâs a mess, and I need to be okay so that I can make sure youâre okay. I have to keep it together, because if I donât, then whoâs going to?â
âWeâre not all your responsibility, Matt,â Elyse pressed, coming over to join the little group that was forming around Matt. Spoole shifted too, feeling guilty about putting so much strain on his boyfriend over the past week and offering nothing in return, but he wasnât sure how to make up for that right now. He was still shocked to see Matt so vulnerable.
âI want you to be,â Matt retorted. âI wanna be there for all of you, and I donât want you to worry about me when you have other stuff to deal with.â Elyse sighed and pulled Matt in for a hug of her own, meeting his eyes before she spoke.
âWeâre a crew, Matt. A team. Weâre all meant to help each other out, and youâre a part of that.â
âI justâŠâ
âYou donât like us worrying about you,â Elyse nodded, offering a small smile of reassurance. âI know. But we care about you, Matt. The same way you care about the rest of us. So weâre allowed to help you out when you need it.â
âAnd youâre still allowed to take care of us, too,â Adam interjected, causing Mattâs head to turn towards his voice. âYouâre great at it. But donât let that come at the expensive of your own wellbeing, okay?â
Matt nodded slowly, giving Adam a watery smile, and Elyse took a step away so Adam could draw him back in, press a chaste kiss to Mattâs lips as one of Adamâs arms curled around Mattâs waist.
âIf I ever see Bruce again, Iâm putting a bullet somewhere it wonât cause long-term damage,â Lawrence said suddenly, making all heads snap to him, surprised by the outburst.
âGet in line,â James laughed humourlessly. âI call first dibs on shooting that asshole.â
âWait, what?â Spoole questioned, his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out why they wanted to shoot Bruce all of a sudden. âWhy?â
âBecause nobody makes Matt Peake cry and gets away with it,â Lawrence explained, and Matt actually laughed at that, despite the tears he was still blinking out of his eyes.
âI donât need a knight in shining armour, but thanks,â he tried to insist, though his attempt to seem independent was nullified by the fact he was still pressed into Adamâs side, head leaning on his loverâs shoulder.
âOh, I know youâre more than capable of shooting him yourself,â shrugged Lawrence. âBut itâs the principle.â
âCan we all agree that we wonât kill Bruce upon sight?â Joel laughed nervously, unsure how serious Lawrence was being.
âI sure as hell donât wanna kill him,â James countered. âI just wanna show him that nobody fucks with Fakehaus and gets away with it.â
âSo they crewâs back together?â Asked Spoole eagerly, his excitement evident in his voice.
âThe crewâs back, baby!â Elyse exclaimed, throwing her fist in the air and causing the rest of the group to burst into laughter.
Sure, they were still not over it, and they had no idea when theyâd be back to the way things used to be. Maybe they never would be quite the same again. They would probably be more cautious from here on out, more hesitant to let people in. But, they would also have a new perspective on things now. They wouldnât take each other for granted anymore, would value the time they spent together, because they knew it was limited. Oddly enough, the whole thing brought them closer. Theyâd learned that they couldnât suffer alone, had to accept help from each other and learn when to take a step back and admit that maybe things werenât going so well. It wouldnât be easy, trying to get back to business as usual with one less person among them, but at least they still had each other.
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send me an au and iâll give you 5+ headcanons about it
Gah! Warning a mild side of gay under the cut also limb loss. lol Im horrible
~ It was Joel and Adam that founded the crew. Joel, a rich mans bastard and forcefully estranged son who didnt feel right using his child welfare and 1000$ birthday cards on anything but illegal things and Adam the exact opposite, willing to do anything for money so the loan sharks will stop going after him for student debts and the rent for his one room shoebox place. Then it was James, then Bruce & Matt, Sean, then Elyse when James got married (she was from Los Santos famous Girl Crew) then Lawrence and Omar just showed up at some point and no one remembers how he got there.Â
~ They dont really have a ârelationshipâ persay, other than the Willemsâ, but they at some point realized they had in one way or another slept with/kissed/held hands/cried on each other with out thinking and it just became something they didnt hide or feel ashamed of.Â
~Matt is the first one to get seriously hurt. On a job to take out a scummy rival crew who was starting to stir up pointless trouble, a machine gun ended up targeting the van Matt and Omar were in, Matt obviously prioritized Omar over himself and ended losing a leg from the knee down. Chaos ensues as the less level headed members of the crew annihilating the rival crew without really thinking of civilians.
~Benson was the last dog to be brought to the bunker (the three subway cars they call home base ala Person of Interest) because the girls from Elyses old crew had grown attached and letâs say lots of trades and negotiations went down before Elyse could even introduce Benson to Billie and the others.Â
~Spoole hasnt actually âleftâ the crew, despite him no longer living in Los Santos. His identity had been made public after a particularly poorly planned heist ended up with Spoole getting into an actual Cop Car instead of the fake one Bruce had planted. After faking his death, Spoole lives back home with his family in secret, but there have been rumours of him starting his own street crew comprised of a few close friends (cough cough Ray, Tina, Jon, cough cough) named âThe BoyzâÂ
Fandom:funhaus AU: sbgc Pairing: spubin Apparently I never posted this, so please enjoy and read this sappy lil thing It was a cold morning, November winds cutting into bodies and chilling the air. Spoole's breath left his mouth in heavy clouds as he and Joel walked briskly towards the school. California is always unaccustomed to the cold, and the boys had nothing more than sweaters to keep the chill off their bodies. Joel felt a tug on his sleeve, a clammy hand grabbing at his own, clamping down tight on his fingers and a thumb running across his knuckles. He turned his head, a small smile spreading across his lips as he looked at Sean. His cheeks were bitten red from the frosty day, his hair sticking out messily from under his beanie. Joel couldn't take his eyes off him, letting them roam over every detail, the creases in Spoole's jacket, the smile lines on his forehead and mouth, the brightness in his eyes highlighted by the redness of his face. Joel's own face softened, an inaudible sigh drifting from his mouth. It was then that Joel knew he was in far deeper than he ought to be with this sorry kid. After a minute Joel forced himself to look away, and ran his own thumb over Sean's in return. "Thanks for letting me stay over last night, I hope I wasn't a bother." Sean said quietly. "I just didn't really have anywhere else to go you know." Joel pressed closer to him "you can stay anytime Spoole, don't worry about it." Sean nodded slowly, staring down at the sidewalk in front of him. Joel squeezed his hand tightly, trying his best to comfort him without bringing the subject up too much. No one wants to start their day by reliving trauma brought on by their family. Joel thought he saw a tear welling up in Sean's eye as he looked away from him, and before he knew it words were tumbling out of his mouth. "I don't want to see you hurt because you had too much pride to reach out for help! It's not worth it when you know I'm going to be there for you...forever Sean. Y-you are my best friend and I don't know what I would do without you, you keep me grounded every day." Joel paused for a moment, barely able to breathe before he forced out the words that were making him start to shake, "I love you Sean." He stammered. "I love you so fucking much" Sean stopped walking and stared at him, stuttering over words. "W-what do you mean??" He squeaked, eyes widening. "Wh-why? I'm nothing, I'm a loser and I'll never be a good friend to you or boyfriend or anything for anyone!" Joel let go of his hand then, choosing instead to grab with both hands at Spoole's sweater and pulling him in close to him. "Shut up." He murmured. And then his lips fell against Sean's, and even though it wasn't the first time it felt like the first time that mattered. The two boys were alone in this world, but for what it was worth, they had each other, and that's all Joel cared about. When they broke apart they stayed close, breath mingling in the cool air, hands wrapped around each other's. Sean laid his head softly against Joel's, and sighed. "I'm never leaving you now, you know that right?" He whispered. Joel's grip tightened on him. "I wouldn't let you." "I love you."
Pairing: FHOT7 (Bruce/Adam/Matt/Spoole/Joel/Lawrence/James)
Rating: TÂ
Summary: Spoole didnât know why he was acting like this.
Words: 4,336
A/N: i really dont remember where this came from or how it came to be a coherent thing but? heyo.
[AO3]
Bruce was the first to walk out.
He spent the night tucked away in the very back bedroom with James, while the others had split between the other two bedrooms. Spoole remembered spending that night curled between Lawrence and Adam, his face pressed half into the pillows and hands idly picking at stray strings on the old shirt Adam wore to bed. And he remembered the next morning, when all of Bruceâs things were gone, every trace of him just vanishing from the apartment. None of his clothes hung up in the closets, all of his shoes were gone from the entryway, the shelves were missing the games he had bought and owned before he ever met any of them. It was such a small thing, Spoole knew, that, really, nothing felt all that different. It had been different enough that it had Joel rearranging cups and dishes in the kitchen pantries three different times, that it had Adam sitting at the bar tilting his favorite shot glass back and forth. It was enough that Jamesâ didnât leave the bedroom that whole day, and Peake had been the only one he let back there with him. He remembered Lawrence eyeing the bottle of liquor on the coffee table, Bruceâs favorite. Spoole remembered he just tried not to feel anything, to ignore the antsy feeling under his skin that one of the guys were gone, just gone.
Spoole was the one who found the note.
It had been tucked into one of Bruceâs favorite books, which had been confusing because all of his other books were missing. He had picked it up from the shelf, when an envelope fluttered out from between dog eared pages and onto the clear tile below. It had âGuysâ written in Bruceâs handwriting on the front, sealed in the back with one of those Valentine Card stickers, from the sheet of them they still had tucked away in a desk somewhere. He had opened it without the others, curiosity taking the better of him like it always did, and in hindsight, he wished he had told them about it. At least before he had opened it. He wished he had someone with him when he did.
Inside was a piece of ripped paper with âNo need to say goodbyeâ written on it in Bruceâs chicken scratch, with the little woven friendship bracelet bearing his name stapled to it. They never took those bracelets off, no matter what. They never had.
James found Spoole crying in the corner hysterically.
They put Bruceâs green friendship bracelet in the bowl in the entryway.
Adam left next.
He left his bracelet with a note on the dining room table a week after Bruce. He took the only empty bedroom the night before, so no one had been disturbed when he left the next morning. It was like deja vu, waking up to all his things missing. The Pacific Rim poster hanging in the living room was gone. The collection of Evangelion DVDs werenât on the shelves. The flannel jacket Spoole loved curling up into on the couch was no longer hanging off the back of the barstool in the kitchen. His note had said the same thing, in equally messy handwriting, and Spoole spotted tear stains wrinkling the paper. The closets felt more empty. Joel paced the living room that morning, not rearranging or touching a thing, his feet wearing a path into the plush rug. James sat in Adamâs favorite armchair, and Spoole caught Peake taking a shot from Adamâs favorite shot glass before his morning cup of coffee. Lawrence was the only one who didnât seem wrapped up in his own mind, and he sat with Spoole, holding his hand silently. Spoole just wanted to stop feeling numb.
Joel broke hours later, after his pacing left a permanent path in the carpet, and he wandered off into the bedroom Adam had stayed in the night before. James watched him go. Spoole couldnât bring himself to get up. None of them had the heart to coax him out. None of them could stop his crying. Joel didnât come out the entire night.
They dropped Adamâs red bracelet into the bowl.
James left in the middle of the day.
He didnât give them the middle of the night bail like Bruce and Adam, to let them work through it in the morning after heâs gone. He packed up his things in the midst of a screaming match with Joel, nine days after Adam left, going to and from rooms to collect his things. Joel followed him, hysterical and begging him not to leave like this, his voice cracking and raw. Spoole sat on the couch, curled up to block them out, with Peake rubbing soothing circles in his back to help, but he could feel the shake of Mattâs hands, and hear the choke of Lawrenceâs voice. He covered his ears and ignored the venom Joel and James spat at each other in the heat of the moment.
It climaxed with James slamming his orange bracelet into the bowl on his way out, breaking the ceramic and not bothering to shut the door behind him. Joel stopped in the threshold, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes as he cried, and Spoole choked back a sob and held his knees to himself, with Lawrence pulling him close.
Later that night, Spoole sat with Joel and helped him glue the bowl back together, before they put it back onto the table. They put up six hooks and hung the bracelets there, instead.
The apartment was void of weights and protein shake mix. The orange shirt that Joel always wore doesnât hang between Peakeâs flannel and Lawrenceâs hoodie anymore.
Peake found the note James wrote tucked in the armchair in the corner.
âNo need to say goodbyeâ
He cried into Joelâs arms in bed.
Joel tried to make it easy on them.
He didnât ditch in the middle of the night, didnât make a dramatic, heartbreaking show, either. He told them the morning of, over coffee and cereal, two weeks after James. He tried to let them down easily, being upfront but gentle, and Spoole wasnât sure what was worse; being left in the aftermath to pick the pieces, or standing and watching the pieces fall down around him. Peake helped him pack his clothes away, while Lawrence tracked down miscellaneous things laying around. The movie posters hanging in the living room disappear. The fancy drapes over the master bedroom window get taken down. The flower arrangement thatâs been sitting on the dining room table since they moved in is put away. The apartment started to feel empty and lifeless.
Joel spent his time with them. He sat and watched anime with Lawrence, happy smiles and bitter jokes between them. He had leaned against the railing of the balcony with Peake as they shared a cigarette and talked, for hours, about whatever they can think about. Joel slow danced with Spoole in the kitchen to their favorite song, and Spoole tried to ignore the pain in his chest each time Joel dipped him and they erupted into laughter.
He left that night, bags in his hands as hung his purple bracelet on the next hook, and tried to hide his tears when he told Lawrence he didnât want to hear any goodbyes, when Lawrence started to speak.
Spoole clung to Peakeâs shirt the whole night and wished it could be easier.
Thirteen days later, Peake left.
He never had much around the apartment, just guns and clothes. They went missing the night before alongside his jeep in the garage and a bag at the back of the closet. He woke up that morning with Spoole sitting on the couch, bags deep under his eyes. He fixed him coffee and sat with him, talking and drinking, brushing against him every so often, before Peake got up for his morning jog. He left his mug on the table, kissed Spooleâs hair, and left out the front door. Spoole watched with tears in his eyes.
Matt never came back. His forest green bracelet hung on the hook next to Joelâs, a tag attached to it, and Spoole knew what it said already, so he threw it out without reading it.
It was just him and Lawrence, then. They sat on the couch watching TV for most of the day. The apartment was silent; no Bruce and James yelling at each other from the back, no Adam and Peake calmly chatting away at the dining room table over tea, no Jeol singing in the shower to the overplayed pop music on the radio. It was just Spoole, and it was just Lawrence, and it was just the TV playing reruns of the same soap opera to fill the void left by the five men that werenât there anymore.
Spoole broke first, that night after dinner, crying and screaming into Lawrenceâs shirt that it wasnât right, that it wasnât fair, that it shouldnât have been like this at all. Lawrence just rubbed his hair, and let him get the emotions out. By the time Spoole was done, his throat was sandpaper and his head was pounding, and all he could do was whisper pleads that Lawrence wouldnât leave him, not alone, not like the others. He didnât note Lawrenceâs silence as he carried him to the bedroom. He didnât think of it when their lips lock and their hands room, and everything became a haze of heat. He didnât want to think of it between the gasps for air and teeth biting marks on his shoulder and his nails on Lawrenceâs back, between the pleasure and the ache in his chest. He didnât bother thinking about it after, when theyâre curled together, breathing the same air and holding the other tight and close.
Lawrence was gone the next morning. The rest of the anime and manga disappeared off the shelves. The gun with the Gurren Lagann sticker wasnât in its place. The Hatsune Miku figurine didnât sit on the desk anymore. All Spoole was left with was Lawrenceâs favorite shirt and his deep blue bracelet hanging off the last hook.
Spoole didnât know why he was acting like this.
He knew this was coming; they talked about it, planned it, had backups for their backups, for Christâs sake. It wasnât a surprise, shouldnât have been a surprise, them all leaving the apartment and fleeing Los Santos because their luck had to run out and it finally did. Spoole shouldnât have reacted the way he did when Bruce left, when Adam left, when James and Joel and Peake and Lawrence left. He knew it was coming. He helped plan it.
His chest still ached when he thought of them.
He gathered all he had left of them; Bruceâs favorite book, Adamâs shot glass, Jamesâ Psychonauts plush, Joelâs blanket, Peakeâs pillow, Lawrenceâs shirt. He set them all down in the living room and slept on the couch, alone. He doesnât want to lay in the beds.
He kept their bracelets on the hooks in the entryway.
It was a year after Bruce left.
Spoole came back to the apartment with his pitiful excuse for dinner, a couple of gas station hot dogs and a large Mountain Dew. The first thing he noticed is that there was a bracelet missing. The second was the music, coming from one of the backrooms Spoole hadnât stepped a foot into in a year. He set his stuff down on the coffee table, grabbing his switchblade off the bookshelf, and made his way back. The music was coming from a radio, the DJs voice interrupting the ending of some song Spoole didnât recognize, and he heard the buzz of an electric razor.
He didnât say a word as he got to the bathroom connected to the bedroom, holding the switchblade tight and resting his hand on the cracked open door. There was a figure moving around inside, dark and moving to the music as itâs shadow was cast across the wall. Spoole thought something like this would happen. He was about to push it open and go for the kill, when the figure started singing and he knew that voice. He knew it.
The blade clattered to the floor as Spoole pushed the door open quickly, rushing in and wrapping his arms around Joel with a soft sob that got choked up in his chest. His shaking hands grip Joelâs shirt, and he holds him close, so close.
âJ-Joel,â he said quietly, felt Joelâs arms wrapping around him. âO-Oh my god, itâs youâŠâ
âShit, Sean, I thought no one was hereâŠâ
They pulled apart at that, and Spoole laughed at Joelâs half shaven face. Joel joined in, and he felt right again, for the first time since Lawrence left. They put up Joelâs posters and drapes and the flowers, clean the living room and split the hot dogs between them and share the Mountain Dew, and for the first time in a year, Spoole slept in one of the beds.
Peake was a week after that.
Spoole ran into him at the convenience store down the street from their apartment. He had been standing in front of the over priced apology cards, holding a cheap bottle of wine and a bouquet of wilted roses. He was wearing a camouflage hoodie Spoole had never seen, but he knew it was Matt by the beard, and the way he worried his lip between his teeth. Spoole approached him, tapping his shoulder as he picked up a card, noting how much he had truly missed him when he jumped and turned quickly. His face shifted into surprise, brown eyes wide.
âSean, he breathed.
Spoole smiled shyly. âHey.â
He was pulled into a hug, warm arms around him and that deep-chested rumble of a laugh he missed so much in his ear. Spoole hugged him back, pressing his face into Peakeâs shoulder, but he pulled back, taking the card from his hands and looking over it. âCats?â
âThe joke is that we're all dog people.â
Spoole laughed at that, putting it back. âRoses and wine will do fine,â he told him, before they went up to pay, giggling at Peakeâs âcould have robbed them for the cardâ comment. They got back to the apartment to the smell of pasta and the sound of Joel cheerily singing in the kitchen, dancing as he cooked. He turned to look at Spoole when he came in, dropping the dish he held with wide eyes and an open mouth. The apartment stood still for a moment, and Matt shifted nervously, before Joel was jumping over the kitchen island to run to him, picking him up and spinning him around.
âMatt!â He cheered happily, laughing and setting him down. âOh my God! What are the coincidences! I'm making your favorite meal tonight!â He said with a wide smile, kissing him, before pulling back with a gasp. âOh- Fuck the bread!â
He rushed back to the kitchen, Matt chuckling and setting his bag down as he pulled his bracelet off the hook. Spoole moved to kiss his cheek. âWe're glad you're back.â
None of them complained about the burnt garlic bread at dinner, and the bed felt less empty that night.
Adam waltzed in a couple of weeks later.
Spoole didnât know what to think of his nonchalant attitude toward it all. He had his bag on his back when he opened the apartment door, nodding at Joel and Spoole as they sat dumbfounded on the couch, before he set down his bag and slipped his shoes off. He slipped his bracelet off the hook and onto his wrist, before turning around to look back at them, brows furrowing. âWhat?â
âYou just-â Joel started, pointing at him with the TV remote.
âCame in⊠Adam what the-â
At the mention of his name, a door slammed in the back. Spoole and Joel turned on the couch to see Peake standing in the threshold of the back hallway, fists clenched at his sides as he stared Adam down. The room was tense for a moment, before he walked over to him silently, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him down for a kiss. âYouâre an asshole,â he told him, letting go of the fabric so Adam could stand up straight again. âYouâre the biggest asshole.â
Adam didnât look hurt, or offended. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. âI know.â
Peake hummed, pulling him back down for another kiss. âSpooleâs making omelettes for dinner,â he told him. Joelâs face cracked into a smile. âAnd weâre bingeing Pretty Little Liars, if you want to join us.â
Adam grinned. âThat sounds fantastic.â
He fell back into step with them easily, effortlessly, sitting between Joel and Spoole, propping his feet up on the coffee table and stealing popcorn from Peakeâs bowl. Between scenes and important lines, he added his own brand of commentary that made Joel groan and Spoole choke on his water. That night, over omelettes, Spoole gave him a quick peck between bites, smiling fondly at him.
âIâm glad youâre home.â
Bruceâs motorcycle woke Spoole up at midnight.
The others were still sleeping, Joel fast asleep with his long limbs wrapped tight around Peake, and Adam had taken the night alone in another room. He didnât hear a single noise from the rest of the apartment and he rose from bed, grabbing some shoes and a hoodie, before heading down to the garage, heart thudding in his chest at the prospect of seeing Bruce, who he hadnât seen longer than anyone else, and they were almost all together again.
His feet froze on the steps at the voices. He rested a hand on the wall and looked around the corner, stepping back out of view better when he saw Bruce and Adam. Bruce was slipping off that stupid leather jacket James had given him, and Adam had his arms crossed, his stance defensive. âAdam,â Bruce started slowly, setting his jacket over the seat of his bike. âI know youâre upset-â
âIâm more than upset.â
The tone of his voice made Bruce flinch. Spoole shifted to sit on the bottom step, still looking in. âYou have every right to be, but-â
âWe were all fucked up about it.â Adamâs voice rose. âYou just left, in the middle of the night, and you didnât even leave a note out for us to find.â
âI left it in th-â
âBut we didnât know it was there!â He was yelling. Spoole held his arms close to himself, pulling back from the corner. âIf Spoole hadnât seen that book on the shelf, we would have never had found that note!â
âAnd what was I supposed to do, throw myself a going away party! We didnât have the fucking time for explanations, Adam!â
âYou should have fucking made time, Bruce, weâre your boyfriends!â
Bruce goes quiet. A beat passed were neither of them say anything, and Spoole felt his heart shatter in his chest, before thereâs the muffled squeak of rubber soles on the slick floor. Spoole flinched at the hit he never heard, peeking around the corner at the numbing silence, his chest thudding at the sight of Bruce pulling Adam into a hug, holding him tight and close.
âI know,â Bruce said quietly. âI knowâŠâ
âJames was so fucking upsetâŠâ
âI-Is he back?â
They pulled apart, and Adam shook his head. âNo, not⊠not yet. Peake told me what happened, though. It was⊠really messy.â
Bruce sighed, running a hand through his hair. âI donât think this will be any less messyâŠâ
âIâm sure they all forgive you by now,â Adam told him quietly. âRight, Spoole?â
He could help the indignant squeak that came from his mouth, before he slapped his hands over his mouth, listening to them both laugh. Spoole stood, going around the corner, walking over to them and looking between them. Bruceâs bracelet was hanging off his wrist. âI know I forgive you,â he said to Bruce with a smile. He was pulled into a hug, with a kiss pressed into his hair.
Joel tackled him the moment he entered through the door.
Jamesâ bracelet went missing one morning.
It was ten days after Bruce came back, and the morning after Joel and Peake spent the whole day cleaning the apartment top to bottom. Adam had noticed the hook had been empty on his way back from getting milk, which sparked a day long panic between the five of them. While Peake and Adam looked between all three bedrooms at least five times over, Joel and Bruce checked the rest of the house, and Spoole slipped out to go check in the garage. He had seen both Adam and Bruce go down there a lot, both of them taking the bracelet with them, probably to think alone since the apartment was always loud between him and Joel. When his search had ended empty, he made his way back up, jumping every other step, before opening the door.
He was met with the sound of a vase crashing to the floor. âYou fucking asshole!â Joel yelled, standing in the center of the living room. A pillow laid against the wall on top of the broken glass. James was standing in front of him, his orange bracelet hanging loosely on his wrist. He didnât say a word. Joelâs fists clench at his sides. âI c- Oh my g- Just- Fuck!â he settled for, finally, face red and splotchy, his eyes wet and his chest heaving. Adam and Bruce stood to the side, faces unreadable and arms crossed over their chests. Peake stood in the kitchen, making eye contact with Spoole through the chaos. âYou made this big fucking statement about you fucking leaving, and then you just sneak in here and try to blend your way back fucking in!â
âJoel-â James started, taking a step forward.
âNo, fuck you!â Joel yelled. James took a step back. âYou donât even know how much it fucking hurt!â Thatâs when the tears start. Adamâs composed facade breaks a little. âIt hurt worse than Bruce and Adam leaving while we were sleeping! Because at least with them I didnât have to listen to them call me a fucking baby for being hurt and upset that the men I love all had to leave the city, and weâd be apart for God knows how fucking long!â
âJoel-â
âWhat, James?â Joel asked, hands shaking at his sides. âWhat!â
They both fell silent. Spoole shifted uncomfortably at the door, watching them and worrying his bottom lip, before James stepped forward, pulling the zipper up on Joelâs jeans. âYour fly was down.â
The emotions that shifted onto Joel face made Spoole legitimately worried that Joel was going to swing at him, punch him right across his jaw, or right against his eye, but then it settled on something like mock anger, lips twisting up into a smile. âAre you kidding me?â he asked.
âWell, no, I mean, I didnât just unzip your pants,â James explained, casually. âIâll do that later.â
Joel laughed and pushed him. âYou fucking dick,â he said with a grin. âGod I fucking hate you.â
âLove you, too, babe.â James winked, then turned to Spoole with a smile. âOh, hey, Spoole! Nice hat!â
Spoole just laughed back.
It had been a year and a half since Lawrence left.
Spoole pulled his scarf around his face more, pressing his hands deep into his pockets and trying to protect himself from the cold, Los Santos wind. He sighed, the plastic shopping bag hanging off his wrist as he walked, weaving in and out of the occasional person like he had done all his life. Joel had been so adamant that he go out to get them more cigarettes, even though Adam had a full pack tucked in the trunk of his car, and Spoole ended up slipping a couple of sodas for him and James and a package of popcorn for their movie night. He looked up at the snow, humming and not paying attention to where he was going, before he ran into someone, letting out a soft oof and blushing. âO-Oh sorry,â he said quietly, looking up, and his heart stopped. âL-Lawrence?â
Lawrence turned, dark coat and dark scarf shielding him from the cold, eyes wide behind his glasses and fuck, Spooleâs hands shook in his pockets. âSean,â he breathed softly, pulling his hands from his pockets. âL-Listen, I-â
Spoole didnât give him a chance to finish. He pulled his hands from his coat, dropping the shopping bag and throwing his arms around Lawrenceâs shoulders, holding him tight and closing his eyes when Lawrence wrapped his arms around his waist. âIâm not mad,â he said quietly. He had over a year to deal with how he felt. He couldnât stay mad like Joel did, angry like Adam. He just didnât have the heart. âIâm not mad, I⊠Iâm so glad to see you.â
He was pulled closer against Lawrenceâs chest, feeling his warmth and his heart beat. âIâm glad to see you, too.â
When they came into the apartment that night, it was a chorus of cheers and shouts from the five others, a tangle of limbs from Joel and James, back pats from Adam and Peake, a long, hard hug from Bruce. And Lawrence smiled the entire time, eyes shining and face red as Joel chattered on about the fish they got as a pet, as Bruce tried to take bags from Lawrence and Adam worked off his winter gear.
That night, as they all laid together in the master bedroom, Peake curled up against his back and Bruceâs snores from the other side of the bed, Spoole pressed a soft kiss to Lawrenceâs lips, smiling. âI love you,â he told him softly.
He got a kiss in return. âI love you, too, Spoole.â