Matt hadn't heard from his sister in days. It probably should have bothered him more, but at some point, when you ache enough, it just starts to go numb. Good thing he had all that practice with his mom, who he also hadn't heard from in over a year. She sent him some text december before last, asking if it would be okay to stop by and pick some things up. Which, wouldn't have been weird, except it was Christmas and when she must have realized, she ghosted him again. And then three weeks later, he got a selfie of her on a beach in Florida with some sea creature that Matt would be hard pressed to call a person, let alone a man.
So, when Vick pulled the disappearing act on him, knowing full well, exactly, what it felt like, it was really hard not to take it personally. Even harder not to get mad at her like they did with their mom. And, Matt was just tired. Tired of being the only reliable one, always around, like a dog waiting by the door for people who don't care enough to come home. And when they do come home, what does he do? He doesn't yell. He doesn't even try to guilt trip them. He welcomes them with a hug because they're just as tired. He cooks dinners that turn cold on the table and cleans it all up, and he tries not to pry because he doesn't want to run them off, but none of it fucking matters. It's not enough to make them stay. It's never enough to make anyone stay. (his dad, his mom, his sister. elena.)
Matt didn't have a graveyard, he just had a growing list of people that got close enough to see him and decide he wasn't worth it. And honestly, he didn't blame Elena for leaving. What was he really offering these days anyway? He was the poster boy of cliches: a washed up jock with a blown out knee who can't even run the field, let alone land a scholarship. His grades definitely weren't going to pull the weight, and he didn't even know what he wanted to major in anyway. He was a bus boy that worked at Hollister on the weekends, and he lived in an old ass trailer house at the edge of town while the bills just kept piling up.
Yeah, he was bachelor of Mystic fucking Falls.
If Sophmore Matt saw Matt today, he'd punch him in the face. Actually--probably not. He was never that edgy.
The sound ofJeremy's voice snapped him out of his useless spiral of self pity and he found his features settling into a very familiar frown. Vicki dodging him was par for the course, but none of her dealers hearing from her? Unfortunately, that was the thing that made Matt worry. He figured she was off on a bender but it was kinda hard to do that with no drugs.
"Wait, you mean you guys were at the cemetery where they found the burned up bodies?" For a split second Matt's stomach dropped, and then instantly the denial kicked in. He shook his head, like the fear would go away with it.
"Don't apologize, man. I know how she gets. Besides, if they found her out there Forbes would have contacted me by now, you know?" He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince.
Matt continued to set out clean cups on the back of the bar, fiddling with the same stack a little too long.
"Did she seem alright before you left, or was she off her face? Knowing Vick, she probably bounced right after you did."
This was their routine. Vicki disappeared. Matt worried. Matt waited. Vicki always popped back up. But, every time, some part of him thought about that cat they had when they were kids. It was black with a torn ear and used to roam the woods at the back of the house. She would leave for days, a week sometimes, but she always came home. Until one day she just didn't. Matt kept putting food out for her hoping she would come back. He did it for a month and would have kept doing it but his mom stopped buying food. Cat's dead, Matt. Coyote probably got it. That, or someone else took her in. Either way, cat's gone. Now, quit buggin' me.
So, he was eleven when he realized: it doesn't really matter if the people that leave you are alive or dead. Gone is gone.
