;; ʸᵒᵘ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᵇˡᵒᵒᵐ ʰᵉʳᵉ

          the weight of the container falling onto his lap isn’t anywhere near enough to hurt matty — not physically , at least . emotionally ? that’s a different story . somehow , it stings . the oreos being dropped rather carelessly feels familiar . it’s caught him off - guard . but not nearly as off - guard as he’d been when mikey had put a pin in their final argument with that question . do you want to break up ? it’s like he can still hear it reverberating off the walls even now . suddenly , he’s lost his appetite , cookies remaining completely untouched in his lap . eyes don’t follow mikey as he moves to sit down on the sofa , choosing to stare blankly at the wall instead . it’s all he can do . if he meets those chocolate brown eyes , matty knows he’ll succumb to his emotions , and they’re all moving so erratically in his head that he doesn’t even know what that’ll look like . he can’t pinpoint a feeling to focus on until mikey speaks up again with a passive comment , and then the jagged spikes of anger are pricking his skin . that’s always been the most vivid emotion to him . he can’t quite place what exactly he’s mad at , so he takes it out on the stupid blue package , finally making a move to grab it , but only so he could toss it onto the coffee table haphazardly .           what he really wants is to just tuck himself between mikey’s arms , press all the way into his space , and just lay there . but that’s something that’s off - limits now , and it’s only frustrating him more . why is this all so difficult ? it’s confusing , and it’s tiring , and matt just wants his head to stop spinning . now he’s wishing he wouldn’t have indulged in so much booze . he leans forwards , making a move to unzip his boot ( maybe he misses the first try , but that’s nobody’s business ) . after intense focus , he’s finally kicking his shoes off , pulling his legs up onto the sofa , and leaning in the opposite direction of the curly - haired boy that sits beside him . arms are wrapped around his own torso , but they’re nowhere near as comforting as mikey’s own . thinking back to how it’d felt only a couple of minutes ago outside that cab to be fully engulfed in his embrace once again … this pales in comparison .          the sound of mikey’s voice floods his ears , but he doesn’t make any move to indicate that he’s heard him , just continues to lean up against the arm of the couch , staring forward without a word . the wobbly camerawork of whatever’s on the television screen is starting to make him nauseous though , gaze finally tearing away to meet mikey’s . his expression’s disgruntled at first — brows furrowed , corners of his lips curved downwards . but the longer he looks at him , the more his features are softening . he’s desperately searching his eyes for something — anything — to ground him and let him know that he’s not crazy for feeling this way . without even realizing it , he’d stopped leaning away . there’s this urge to be close to him that matty can’t deny . his torso’s just starting to tilt towards mikey’s before he stops , remembering that he shouldn’t . you can see the sadness that flashes across his features — he can’t mask it as quickly as he can when he’s sober . letting his back hit the couch once more , a hand combs up to push back his hair ( to no avail — the curls tumble over his forehead again as soon as his hand’s brought down ) .  “ what ? ”  the word escapes him with a small sigh ; he’s not sure if he even wants to hear mikey’s response .

         mikey watches the curls tumble back down onto matty's forehead, his own hand twitching at the memory of what it felt like to card through that softness, to wind slightly too long tendrils around his fingers as he dragged matty in for a kiss. god, he wants to touch him so badly, to just feel again ( physically and emotionally ). he wants to reach out and gently turn his face back toward him to see if he'd imagined that flash of anguish or NOT, and then say everything is going to be okay — but it's not, that's the thing. nothing is okay, and it hasn't been since that last day when all their not okay-ness had welled up to the surface.     what ?     what is it that mikey wants to say ?? 'i'm sorry ??' that doesn't even begin to cover it and he's had time to compose and rehearse so many grand speeches, in the shower, in the bathroom mirror, when he's waiting for videos to upload and doesn't have matty hanging over his shoulder to distract him. they all fail to come to mind now, just as they failed to come forth in that stupid department store when they’d just been standing there. just being in matty's presence pales in comparison to every situation and memory his mind his built ; matty had always had a way of surpassing his imagination.

         matty's DRUNK now anyway — it's not like they could have a conversation now that wouldn't leave him feeling guilty even if he got the answers he wanted. that's the thing about life : there are consequences. ask a question ; get an answer. ask a question ; someone walks out of your life and you're left wondering if you simply didn't try hard enough, gave up to soon and lost the love of your life. people have told him that maybe he's dodged a bullet with the way things ended, but the way mikey sees it he simply loaded the gun and let matty pull the trigger on them both : it doesn't happen if the situation is never presented. besides, he feels worse now than he ever did when they were together, and that pain never went away even people said it would get better. mikey doesn't feel like it's getting better ; number, maybe. no, the truth is even this painful push and pull feels more right than anything these past few months, more than any warm body he's fallen into bed with in an attempt to MOVE ON. how pathetic that he rather have this pain than not have him at ALL.

          exhaustion had hit him like a fucking semi - truck almost as soon as he’d plopped down on the couch . matty hadn’t realized he was this tired — too pumped up on the adrenaline kick he got from just from being around mikey . his head’s lulling back onto the sofa , practically sinking into the cushions . a part of him wants to be swallowed whole by the piece of furniture . that feels like it’d be easier to handle than having to look mikey in the eye again . there’s too many emotions that come with meeting those chocolate brown eyes ; sober matty couldn’t handle it , so drunk matty’s at a complete loss . the only thing that’s clear to him is that he wants mikey as close as he could get him . he feels better when he’s around , even if it elicits an ache somewhere deep in his chest .            hearing his footsteps approaching has matt lifting his head back up , hand moving to rub at his eyes . brows pinch at the glass of water being thrust towards him . didn’t he just say that he didn’t want water ?  ( no , seriously . he said that , right ? he’s already forgotten ) .  eyes drift upwards from the cup to meet mikey’s gaze when he tells him what to do , teeth digging into his lesser lip , breaking eye - contact for a moment to give him a once - over . he’s going to be difficult because , well , he’s matty , and difficult might as well be his middle name .  “ give me the oreos . ”  eyes narrow a bit , a challenging expression written on his features . he’s always been more stubborn than mikey , and a few months apart wouldn’t change that .            against his better judgement , matty’s chosen to take an fighting stance over something as frivolous as a container of cookies . although , it could definitely be argued that matty had no ‘ better judgement ’ when it came to things like this . he’s always this way : hardheaded , ready to fight , unwilling to compromise . mikey had been the only person that could wane his high - strung disposition down , but even then , it still managed to rear its ugly head . and maybe that’s what had truly led to their demise . the realization cuts through matty’s psyche clear enough that it hurts , once - unwavering stare dropping to the ground .  “  — okay , fine . ”  he mutters , no further argument needed than the one that just went on inside his own head . this is hard for him , and he can’t pinpoint why or how to make it easier . hand extends to take the glass of water from mikey’s hands , looking anywhere but him as he finishes it off , lifting up the empty glass . he’s tired of this look , then look away , but still , his gaze is finally dragging up to meet mikey’s once more . glossed - over eyes linger on mikey’s features , bottom lip jutting out in the slightest pout .  “ now ? ”

         things hang in uneasy balance for a moment, matty glaring up at him, the glass of water still suspended between them and feeling like more than just a glass of water. matty gives quicker than he expects with ducking eyes that makes it difficult to possibly glean what's turning behind beautiful irises. usually it's him that gives in first : always the first to cave, the first to forgive, the first to try to avoid an argument ( maybe in some ways, that'd been the problem — too eager to PLEASE ). matty takes the glass and mikey doesn't know if this feels more like victory or defeat — perhaps neither, it just is. his eyes linger on the movement of the adam's apple bobbing in matty's throat before he forces himself to look away, only to look back again a moment later at his petulant question. this feels harder than anything he's done, each emotional step tested out carefully in fear of taking the wrong one ( but he doesn't even know where he's going, where they're going and that makes this near impossible ).

         the still unopened package of oreos is dropped unceremoniously into matty's lap and after a moment of hesitation, mikey settles down on the couch beside him, not too close but probably not as far away as he should either. truth is even the opposite end of the cushions probably wouldn't be enough space to dampen the potency of matty's presence, to quiet the urge to drag him into his lap and keep him there until they passed out in a mess of limbs at odd angles. he toys with his own hands in his lap to them something to do, tongue passing over his lips again.     " try not to get any crumbs on the couch, "     is what he mumbles out finally, so far off base from the half dozen other sentences colliding around in his head.

          that’s not what he wants , and he’s quick to let mikey know that with a small huff of displeasure . he doesn’t care if the angle’s impossible , or if they shouldn’t given the circumstances — matt just wants to be as close to him as possible . he wants the tender touches and their fingers laced together . it’s always been that way with mikey — close isn’t close enough , and that still hasn’t changed ( not to drunk matty , at least ) . but he can’t quite put those feelings into words . not any words he dares to utter now . even inebriated , there’s a part of him that knows he’s not supposed to say things like that to him anymore . so he settles for a frown , a hand around his wrist , and a dull ache in his chest instead .            standing in mikey’s apartment makes him feel at home and so startlingly out - of - place at the same time . it’s not supposed to be like this . the rapid fluctuation of his emotions is starting to make his head hurt . eyes roam slowly over the space , drinking up every single memory that his fuzzy mind can recall . all of them HURT — even the happy ones . because they can’t go back … right ? people don’t just break up for no reason . it’s better this way , even if it doesn’t really feel like it ( that’s what he’s been trying to convince himself of the past few months anyways ) . gaze finally comes back around to meet mikey’s , studying his features as intently as he could with bleary vision . he loves him , and he’s beginning to realize that that’s never going to go away . matty hopes he forgets it come morning . it’ll hurt less that way .             mikey’s inquiry has him pulling a little face , nose scrunching up in distaste . he doesn’t want water ( but he should definitely have a glass if he wants to even attempt at lessening the hangover he’s going to have tomorrow ) . despite the fact that he’s still teetering on his feet , matt thinks he’d rather have another round .  “ —- oreos . ”  he blurts out , pointing a finger in mikey’s direction , as if he’d made a valid point . it’s not too much of an outlandish response , given the fact that he’s still drunk off his ass , and the fact that he’s matt . they’re his favorite snack , after all .  “ i want oreos . ”  he repeats once again , maybe a little more coherently .  “ the double stuf ones though . i only want those ones . ”  … and then he’s beginning to slur his words together again , finger still pointing in mikey’s direction , really emphasizing how strongly he felt about his choice in cookies .  “ water’s for fuckin’ losers . ”  unnecessary , but a nice touch .

         mikey smiles. he can't help it, more reflex than anything as he watches matty declare his desire for oreos — it's like for a moment everything shifts to fall perfectly ( like nothing happened, like they're still walking the same line side by side ). it passes soon enough, leaving a bitter taste in mikey's mouth and a bitter twist in his heart. matty's literally at arm's distance away from him, but it feels so much further than that — and maybe he can admit that it felt like further than that even before he'd dropped that dreaded question and matty walked out on him. the smile wanes quickly enough, gaze dropping to the floor between them because looking directly at matty feels like looking at the sun ; even if matty's always been the moon to him.

         " alright — "     mikey says finally, he's not smiling anymore but there's something SOFT lingering in his eyes, that will probably linger in his eyes for eternity every time he looks at matty even if this is as much as he gets anymore. tongue wets his lips once, a nervous tick as he meets matty's unsteady gaze again.     " i'll see what i can do. just — "     make yourself at home.     he breaks off before he says the turn of phrase but he feels the words burning on his tongue, hot enough to choke on. they want to be free and mikey wants to say them, and he wants them to be TRUE. he wants to wake up in the middle of the night to matty asleep on his chest, to stumble out of their bedroom to find him in the kitchen singing to himself, to crowd his space on the couch, to have him bring the world into sharp focus around him because these past few months have felt so damn muddied. he WANTS—

         there really wasn't anyone who hated himself more for letting matty go than HIMSELF, but when it came down to it bea parker might come in at a really close second. mikey made a habit of avoiding all members of sucker punch regardless : matty for the obvious, skyler because he didn't need to see the disappointed look in his eyes, and bea because he was afraid she might take their band name a bit too literally and he couldn't afford a broken nose — even if he could personally agree he probably did deserve it. it's still INEVITABLE that he runs into her, murphy's law hard at work and all, but did it have to happen so LITERALLY ?? ( probably, yeah ). he stares at her with horrified wide-eyed recognition, absolutely drenched in what had been her fresh cup of coffee all of two seconds ago — well, honestly better him than HER.     " please don't hit me, "     he blurts out. there's a suspicious guy in the corner of the cafe who's eyeing them, a fancy looking camera sitting in his lap. while mikey hasn't EXACTLY been giving a shit what kinds of headlines he's been making, he'd prefer to not have the embarrassment of a photo of himself getting punched out on the front page.     " i'll buy you another — or — or like, you can have mine. "

mattfm​:

        i’m already an ice block , is what he wants to argue , but mikey’s chivalrous gesture practically makes him melt , gaze softening . “ but i don’t want you to get cold . ”  he’s still reaching out to grab a hold of the sweater anyways , thumbing over the thick fabric . it would make him a whole lot warmer … a slight frown tugs on the corners of his lips , brows pinching together as he takes the coat from mikey’s hands .  “ — tell me if you get too cold , and i’ll give it back , okay ? ”  matty means that , only breaking eye contact to slip the jacket on . mitten - clad hand reaches out to rest on mikey’s chest , a quick glance up and back down the street to ensure that they were alone , and he’s leaning forward to peck his lips .  “ thank you . ”  he all but hums out , palm lingering on the other’s torso for a little while longer .  “ my hero . ”  words accompanied by a soft laugh , tone dripping in light - hearted sarcasm . he doesn’t try to bite back his smiles anymore — not around mikey — but the small grin that adorns his features is still delicate . finally , he pulls away , but his other hand it soon reaching up and out , the strap of the camera bag dangling from his fingers . matty had shrugged it off his shoulder while he was layering up ,  “ you can still carry the camera though , since you’re being such a gentleman already . ”

         even if he were freezing his ass off ( which he's not ), it would absolutely be worth it anyway just to see the look on matty's face. he'd love to reciprocate more, but there's only so much they can do in a very public street even if it is currently EMPTY. what he doesn't say likely shows in his eyes regardless ; mikey's never been the greatest at shuttering those, especially to matty who has always had a way of seeing right through him. mikey reaches out for the outstretched camera instead, slinging the strap over his own shoulder with a quiet scoff,        " please — you know i don't get cold ; it's like a BALMY negative four degrees right now. "     the toronto weather seems to be intent on proving him wrong though, a chilly breeze cutting down the street. mikey doesn't shiver, but he feels the cold air through the fabric of his shirt and yeah, they probably don't need to be lingering here any longer. he brushes past matty with another ADORING smile, ignoring the urge to link their hands and settling instead for a steady arm across matty's back that could be written off as platonic if it HAD to be as he steers them back down the street.     " c'mon, angel — the studio awaits and we'll get you warmed right up. i'm sure there's still some hot chocolate mix left over from last time. "     — among other things.

                               —𝙁𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙃𝘽𝘼𝘾𝙆: 𝘍𝘌𝘉𝘙𝘜𝘈𝘙𝘠 2020—

          “ and i told you that we should just take the car — you know , the thing that would still get us from point a to point b and has a built - in heater ? ”  bitterness hangs heavily in his tone , but it’s not meant to instigate . that’s really just how he talks . his feet are dragging , dragging , dragging , until they come to a halt . he’s going to freeze to death out here — he knows it . teeth grit together in an attempt to stop them from chattering ( to no avail ) .  “ i can’t feel my nose anymore . ”  but he’s still not going to admit that mikey might have been right in his suggestion earlier today . chocolate brown eyes stay glued on mikey’s face as he adjusts his hood for him , nose scrunching up a little . matty didn’t think they’d be out for this long , or he would’ve layered some more . now , all he has is the fleeting warmth of the blue university of toronto hoodie that he’d stolen from mikey’s closet . ( matty had really meant it that night when he said mikey wasn’t getting it back — it was his favorite now too ) .  “ baby … ”  he begins , eyebrows raised ever so slightly , bringing a hand up to rest over one of mikey’s ,  “ i love you , but you said that literally five minutes ago , so i think we have different ideas on what ‘almost’ means . care to elaborate on that ? is it another five minutes , or is it another ten of walking through the fucking tundra ? ” 

         " definitely less than FIVE, i swear, but okay, okay — "     matty has a point, as he normally does. mikey forgets sometimes in the euphoria that is gently falling snow that not everyone is impervious to cold, including his boyfriend. at least he does sound pretty sheepish about it.      " tell you what — "     his gaze roams the street to make sure it's empty ( it is, some sluggish side street more apartments then stores ), before he's pulling matty closer under pretense of warmth, though the truth is he always wants matty closer to him ; some days, it's a minor miracle that they've never been CAUGHT ( paying off cabbies for backseat antics definitely doesn't count ). a soft smile, apologetic around the edges, lights up his face before he's leaning forward, lips brushing gently across the bridge of matty's nose,     " i'll call us an uber for the way back, BUT — "     he's already pulling away to strip off his own sweatshirt, leaving him in a well fitted flannel that clings in all the right places,     " — until then, you take this and attempt to not turn into an ice block. "     he holds the mass of fabric out to him with raised brows. even he's on the side of slightly uncomfortable without the extra layer of fabric, but matty looks far more worse for wear then he does — and let's be honest, he'd do anything for matty, especially if you consider this is lowkey his own fault.

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐎𝐑: @mattfm​

          “ c’mon, babe — i told you to wear a warmer coat. ”     mikey’s voice is still leaning more toward concerned than annoyed or amused though, his crunching footsteps in the snow halting as he twists around to see where matty’s fallen behind. he pauses, before the crunching picks up again and he’s headed back toward matty. once back at his side, a mitten-clad hand comes up to brush off snow that’s started to stick to chocolate curls before he’s drawing up the hood that’s fallen back around matty’s neck. the warmth that’s no doubt pooled in his own brown irises will do little in means of heat transfer, but his hands linger on matty’s shoulders, pulling a little on the strap that hangs over his shoulder.     “ we’re almost back — lemme carry the camera, at least. ”

          ( xavier serrano , cis male , he / him, 23 ) no way ! i swear i saw 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐒 walking down danforth avenue ! i just saw a post about them on 6secrets ! i think it said something like “𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝟓 𝐀𝐌 : 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆 ?”. isn’t that wild ? i guess that makes sense since they’re apparently 𝐃𝐔𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐒 and 𝐂𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆. fans will claim that they’re 𝐎𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 and 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐂.  i mean , it’s not like i know them personally — they’re a famous 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 / 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐁𝐄𝐑. whenever i think of them, i think of 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐄 𝐓-𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐒, 𝐔𝐍𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒, & 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐋𝐈𝐓 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒. i wish i would have asked for an autograph ! ( oliver, they / them, 22, est ).

         his  feet  carry  him  forward  ,  but  he  can  hardly  feel  it  .  it’s  the  sense  of  loss  that  overwhelms  all  of  his  senses  now  .  he  misses  mikey  so  much  that  his  entire  body  carries  a  dull  ache  with  every  step  .  and  the  worst  part  is  that  he’s  right  there  —  matty’s  got  an  arm  around  him  —-  and  there’s  nothing  else  he  can  do  but  stay  silent  as  he  trudges  inside  the  building  .  his  mind’s  too  fuzzy  to  think  of  something  to  say  that  would  make  sense  ,  and  even  then  ,  he  doesn’t  know  if  he  could  bring  himself  to  speak  the  words  aloud  .  the  silence  that  lingers  between  the  two  of  them  is  usually  comfortable  (  pre - breakup  )  ,  but  this  …  it’s  heavier  now  ;  more  solemn  .  matty  can’t  tell  if  it’s  the  alcohol  making  his  head  spin  ,  or  the  dizzying  affect  of  his  yearning  for  something  familiar  .           the  doors  slide  closed  ,  and  now  he’s  left  to  stare  at  their  reflections  in  the  steel  walls  of  the  elevator  .  it  doesn’t  matter  where  his  gaze  darts  next  ,  it’s  the  same  fuzzy  image  of  mikey  and  him  right  there  .  even  when  he  closes  his  eyes  ,  it’s  there  .  he  can’t  get  it  out  of  his  head  ,  and  he’s  not  sure  he  even  wants  to  .  he  lifts  his  head  up  ,  squinting  at  their  hazy  reflection  .  mikey’s  looking  at  him  now   ,  but  matty  doesn’t  want  to  meet  his  gaze  —  it’s  only  going  to  make  it  hurt  worse  .  but  temptation  gets  the  better  of  him  eventually  ,  head  turning  to  make  eye  contact  ,  eyes  glittering  with  a  kaleidoscope  of  emotions  that  he  can’t  quite  control  .   he’s  afraid  of  himself  —  afraid  of  what  he’ll  do  or  what  he’ll  say  next  .  matty  has  enough  self - awareness  to  know  that  he  doesn’t  make  the  world’s  most  fantastic  decisions  .           but  all  that  comes  out  is  a  small  ,  “  thank  you  .  ”  and  now  he’s  left  to  overthink  the  utterance  ,  wondering  if  he  hadn’t  said  enough  ,  or  if  he  should’ve  just  left  the  silence  to  linger  some  more  .  his  thoughts  are  soon  interrupted  as  the  doors  peel  open  once  again  ,  and  he’s  letting  out  a  breath  of  relief  ,  waiting  for  mikey  to  make  a  move  forwards  before  he  even  attempts  to  ,  hand  slung  over  his  shoulder  making  a  grabbing  motion  ,  subconsciously  searching  for  mikey’s  own  .  he  wants  to  hold  his  hand  —  he  wants  something  familiar  .  he  doesn’t  want  to  feel  like  he’s  just  drunk  and  mikey’s  just  being  a  good  person  by  helping  him  (  even  though  that’s  exactly  the  case  )  .  he  wants  mikey  to  love  him  again  .  “  give  me  your  hand  .  ”

         maybe if they'd talked about it THEN, they'd have a better idea of what they owe each other now — but they didn't, letting silence stretch between them so long that it eventually sounded like enough of an answer. but mikey hadn't wanted silence to be his answer, the solution, the reason : not then, not NOW. it only still lingers as an unwanted answer because he made a promise to himself that he wouldn't PUSH, pushing is the reason they ended up here, on opposite sides instead of next to each other where they belong ( or that could just be the prettiest lie he tells himself now ). he still believes that now, matty's body leaching heat from him, his thumb idly brushing circles into the dip just above matty's hip.          ( thank you — ).          mikey doesn't know what to say to that, caught in the depths of matty's eyes. he could read them so EASILY, once ; maybe he still can, but the translation is muddied with things like emotion — it's easy just to see what he wants. ( but what if just maybe it's not his imagination ?? ).

         he pulls his gaze away without an answer, believing that anything he says will feel like an overstep now. silence : an answer yet again. but he has matty solidly in his grasp still, and after a moment, reaches up to grab matty's wrist again at his request. not perfectly what matty requested, but the angle is awkward and mikey's slowly coming back down to REALITY the closer they get to his apartment — a mixture of both the last of the alcohol making it out of his system and the torturous MEMORY of what happened last time they were both within those walls. mikey's never been one to dwell on the past, but that's all he seems to have been doing the past couple months, replaying that night over and over and over in his waking hours and SLUMBERING ones — and sometimes worse came the dreams where he didn't push matty away and he didn't leave only to wake up alone and remember that he had. there's a bitter irony to this, to them returning TOGETHER now.

          the  past  two  months  have  been  nothing  but  an  overwhelming  sense  of  homesickness  without  mikey  around  .  he’d  sit  there  in  his  bed  ,  skyler  just  in  the  other  room  ,  and  the  feeling  wouldn’t  stop  .  he’d  go  home  to  stratford  to  be  with  his  parents  ,  and  it  only  made  the  hollowness  worse  .  no  matter  where  he  went  or  who  he  was  with  ,  there  was  always  a  sense  of  displacement  in  his  heart  —  like  he’d  been  lost  .  he’s  gotten  so  used  to  bearing  it  now  that  it  hardly  bothers  him  anymore  .  but  when  mikey  wraps  him  up  in  an  embrace  ,  he  can  feel  the  weight  being  lifted  off  his  shoulders  —  a  feeling  that  ,  ironically  ,  makes  him  tense  up  ,  breath  catching  in  his  throat  as  mikey  curls  an  arm  around  his  waist  .  

          “  i  —-  ”  miss  you  .  but  he  can’t  bring  himself  to  say  it  aloud  .  choosing  instead  to  finish  off  his  sentence  by  lifting  his  arms  to  wrap  around  mikey’s  neck  gingerly  ,  fingers  threading  through  chocolate  brown  curls  .  it  only  takes  a  few  seconds  for  matty  to  melt  into  his  touch  ,  welcoming  the  sense  of  comfort  that  came  in  waves  —  every  second  that  passed  in  mikey’s  arms  felt  an  additional  level  of  serenity  .  and  as  he  stands  there  ,  clinging  onto  him  desperately  ,  like  he’d  never  let  go  ,  he  accepts  the  fact  that  he’s  absolutely  screwed  .  he’s  never  going  to  get  over  mikey  —-  not  when  he’s  the  only  one  that  makes  him  feel  like  this  .  nobody  else  could  do  it  ;  nobody  even  came  close  .

          but  the  moment’s  gone  too  soon  :  raking  his  digits  through  mikey’s  hair  one  last  time  ,  matty  finally  pulls  away  (  yet  ,  only  slightly  .  he  can’t  fully  let  him  go  —-  not  again  )  .  light  brown  eyes  dart  over  mikey’s  face  ,  drinking  in  every  curve  ,  every  feature  ,  like  he’d  never  get  another  chance  to  .  thumb  comes  up  to  brush  over  mikey’s  cheek  —-  he’d  always  had  a  way  of  breaking  down  matty’s  barriers  without  even  trying  .  he’s  not  like  this  with  anyone  else  .  he  can’t  bring  himself  to  be  ,  and  he  doesn’t  want  to  anyways  .  hands  drop  to  mikey’s  chest  now  ,  gently  pushing  him  away  .  “  we  should  go  .  ”  he  mutters  .  “  i’m  tired  .  ”  this  night  of  push  and  pull  is  draining  him  ,  and  it’s  written  all  over  his  face  .  matty  takes  a  step  forwards  ,  and  the  small  movement  is  enough  for  the  world  to  start  spinning  again  ,  reaching  out  to  steady  himself  against  mikey’s  much  sturdier  stature  .  subconsciously  leaning  in  to  steal  away  some  body  heat  .   “  …  and  i’m  cold  .  ”  always  .  even  when  he’s  had  so  much  alcohol  that  it’s  making  his  cheeks  flush  .  

         his heart stops for a moment as matty pushes him away in favor of retreating to the building. mikey doesn't get cold — it has always been something built in his veins, antifreeze part of his BLOOD. but matty pulls away and he suddenly feels FRIGID. his own arms go slack, dropping back to his sides. even if now that he's been reminded what it's LIKE to have matty against his chest again, better than any memory or three am figment of his imagination, there's nothing more he wants to do than to tug him back in. his throat feels too dry, words like sandpaper as they escape.    " yeah — "     it's a hoarse sound, mikey now frozen to the spot haunted by the trace of matty's hands on him, through his hair, his cheek, his chest.

         it's only the sight of matty swaying again that get him to move once again ; them meeting in the middle once again as they're pressed together once again. it's not the SAME — nothing is the SAME. he has to remember that even as he's reminding himself matty isn't leaving him yet ; that this isn't not what this is ( not right NOW anyway ). they broke up for a reason — went radio silent for a REASON. it just feels like all the wrong reasons, no moreso then now. mikey stares at the concrete between his feet, at their shadows entwined, unable to see where matty ends and he begins. it's not fair, none of this is FAIR to either of them, but it's too late to walk back his actions the same way it had been too late to swallow back the questions that'd ENDED them in the end.

          the studio feels like HOME ; good memories suffuse this place, mixed in with sweat and long hours. he’s got a foam roller wedged under one thigh, face tight as he uses his body weight to ease out the tension there.     “ that reminds me — ”     he says suddenly, gaze lifting to find ella.     “ donavan allegedly has, and i quote, ”     —a brief pause as a pass is particularly uncomfortable—     “ ‘ a dope ass new piece ’ that he’s in the middle of doing the choreo for and he thinks we’d be good for it. wanted me to ask you about your AVAILABILITY for a day or two— ”     he rolls off the roller in favor of just lying on the hardwood of the floor, face screwing into a THOUGHTFUL look.     “  —which, he totally could’ve done himself. think he’s a little scared of you, honestly. ”

          the  gentle  touch  of  mikey’s  fingertips  to  his  jawline  makes  his  heart  sink  further  into  his  chest  .  he  loves  him  ,  he  loves  him  ,  he  loves  him  ,  and  he  doesn’t  know  if  it’ll  ever  stop  .  matty  feels  like  he  could  sit  there  in  this  painful  limbo  forever  ,  if  it  means  he  gets  to  have  him  right  there  .  the  lingering  glances  ,  the  ache  in  his  chest  ,  the  sheer  volume  of  the  silence  that  filled  the  space  between  them  —-  it  was  worth  it  for  these  couple  of  seconds  .  but  the  warmth  of  his  hand  is  gone  soon  enough  ,  and  matty  feels  ten  times  colder  than  before  ,  swallowing  hard  to  shove  the  onset  of  emotion  down  his  throat  .  if  it  weren’t  for  the  sedative  buzz  of  the  alcohol  beneath  his  skin  ,  he  wouldn’t  be  able  to  handle  this  .  

          the  liquor  —  a  real  blessing  and  a  curse  .  it  was  numbing  enough  until  those  brown  eyes  he  was  trying  to  forget  about  had  popped  up  to  rescue  him  from  his  own  undoing  .  just  his  luck  .  (  but  ,  maybe  a  small  part  of  him  is  grateful  that  it’d  happened  like  this  —-  he  gets  to  have  mikey  by  his  side  one  last  time  )  .  letting  out  a  small  huff  ,  his  hand  drops  to  the  seat  ,  fumbling  with  the  seat  belt  before  he’s  finally  free  .  mikey’s  right  :  matty’s  exhausted  —-  physically  and  emotionally  .  if  he  had  to  go  all  the  way  back  to  his  place  ,  he’d  probably  lull  himself  to  sleep  right  in  the  backseat  .  feet  hit  the  pavement  when  he  goes  to  step  out  ,  and  his  legs  feel  like  pure  static  ,  hand  bracing  himself  against  the  cab  to  stand  himself  up  .  four  steps  away  from  the  vehicle  and  he’s  swaying  ,  wishing  he  would’ve  just  stayed  put  until  mikey  climbed  out  to  lean  on  .  

          “  —-  fuck  .  ”  he  curses  under  his  breath  ,  holding  his  hands  out  in  front  of  him  to  balance  .  hearing  footsteps  behind  him  ,  matty  reaches  an  arm  backwards  blindly  ,  making  a  grabby  hand  as  he  searched  for  some  stability  .  and  for  a  moment  ,  it  feels  like  nothing’s  changed  at  all  —  matty  was  still  reaching  out  to  mikey  subconsciously  ;  still  trusting  him  .  (  and  still  being  a  pain  in  the  ass  )  .  hand  wraps  around  mikey’s  forearm  ,  tugging  him  towards  him  ,  bumping  their  shoulders  together  gently  .  “  hold  me  .  ”  there  should  probably  be  a  ‘  please  ’  sprinkled  in  there  somewhere  ,  but  he’s  decided  there’s  no  time  for  formalities  anymore  .  turns  to  face  him  ,  cheeks  flushed  a  rosy  pink  color  ,  only  amplified  by  the  streetlights  shining  down  on  the  two  of  them  .  realizing  now  ,  once  they’re  in  close  proximity  ,  how  his  plead  had  sounded  .  finally  ,  he  tacks  on  ,  “  …  please  .  ”  

         once he's sure that matty is on his way out of the taxi, mikey's scrambling out the other door. a muttered " thanks " is directed at the driver before he escapes into the calm atmosphere of the world at 2 am. distantly, he's aware of the rumble of tires against asphalt as the taxi pulls away, but his attention is caught on matty illuminated in the glow of the streetlights ( it always was, always is ). he sees matty stagger, his own steps quickening without thinking to catch up. and then matty grabs a hold of him or maybe he's reaching out with a steadying hand too, meeting him somewhere in the middle — it's painfully ironic : the idea of them meeting somewhere in the MIDDLE.

         matty twists to face him, his fingers around his forearm and mikey shifts to mirror the grasp. they should go inside, but mikey's caught in the line of matty's pleading gaze, time SLOWING just like it always used to around him. a hand comes up again, gripping matty's shoulder for a moment before moving higher, a mirror of the backseat of the cab, fingers lining the edge of matty's jaw, his thumb sweeping over the curve of a rosy cheek.     " yeah — i got you, "     murmurs mikey. he's still holding matty at an arm's length, but that's not what he wants, not even close. they've been so close all night, shoulder's bumping, hands on arms and it's not ENOUGH : just painful teasing reminders of what they once WERE, and fuck, what does anything really matter anymore ?? something gives in mikey's chest, a compounded effect of everything, of the late hour, of the meager remnants of vodka in his veins, and then he's half stepping forward to meet him, half tugging matty into the circle of his arms.

               the  constant  𝗍𝗈𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀  ,  levi  finds  𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥  but  nonetheless  entertaining  ,  at  least  enough  to  stick  around  after  the  sexual  encounter  ,  or  to  have  a  conversation  in  the  leading  up  to  one  .  if  not  for  their  mutual  𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛  ,  albeit  purely  physical  ,  they  probably  would  have  been  good  friends  .  though  ,  it’s  likely  the  playwright  would  not  give  him  a  𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦  ,  given  their  personalities  —  or  rather  ,  mikey’s  .  “  not  like  her  and  besides  ,  you’re  not  her  type  ,  ”  he  interjects  ,  leaning  over  to  SNATCH  the  piece  of  apple  he’d  previously  carved  ,  and  places  it  between  his  grinning  lips  ,  “  but  then  again  ,  neither  am  i  .  —  but  i  promise  you  ,  you’re  the  only  person  i’m  fucking  ,  ”  and  the  rest  of  toronto  ,  every  now  and  again  .  he  knows  he’ll  take  that  with  a  pinch  of  salt  ,  it’s  not  like  they  were  𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗅𝗎𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾  or  even  𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈  ,  neither  had  an  interest  in  that  ,  they  both  𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝  for  someone  else  .  “  like  i  said  ,  we’re  not  dating  .  she  has  a  girlfriend  .  and  they  took  those  pictures  of  us  whilst  she  was  in  the  bathroom  .  you  know  how  the  media  𝒕𝒘𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒔  things  .  ” 

         " mm-hmm — "     hums out mikey, though it sounds more like a sarcastic ' sure i am ' than a noise of agreement, the disbelief further etched out in the arch of his eyebrows as he carves off another piece of apple. exclusivity was never part of the deal — mikey well knows that, and knows that levi well knows that. exclusivity connects too closely with caring and long term which are both words not included in the definition of whatever they are. but regardless, he's still satisfied that he's not unwittingly pulling apart some relationship. ( stella ALREADY calls him a harlot ; he doesn't think he can take her accusing him of being a homewrecking harlot too ).     " okay — point TAKEN, "     mikey concedes. it's not like he has to look FAR to find evidence of just how far out of context photos and video clips can be taken by anyone with an imagination to spin. when he doesn't find it ANNOYING, mikey's almost impressed with the effort put into such things. and now that levi's confirmed his suspicious of the rumors being FALSE, he'll admit he is curious just to see how this fabricated love triangle is going to pan out. distractions in mikey's life are so welcomed right now, anything to keep certain chocolate eyes out of his mind. he stares at levi for moment with a replay of the last minute rewinding in his head, and then, just to be annoying, faux pout and all :     " — so you DON'T think i'm beautiful ?? "

           the  ache  that  swells  in  his  chest  the  moment  mikey  turns  away  from  him  and  chooses  to  hide  his  face  instead  of  looking  at  him  is  almost  too  much  to  bear  .  matty  doesn’t  cry  —  matty  never  cries  —  but  when  mikey’s  revealing  his  face  only  to  turn  his  gaze  towards  the  window  ,  there’s  an  unfamiliar  stinging  sensation  behind  matty’s  eyes  .  he  leans  back  ,  torso  hitting  the  seat  with  a  small  thud  .  he  wants  to  be  close  to  him  ,  more  than  ever  now  ,  but  he  can’t  be  .  gaze  turns  towards  the  car’s  roof  ,  swallowing  hard  as  he  willed  himself  to  just  let  mikey  be  .  hasn’t  he  done  enough  to  him  already  ?  matty’s  the  one  who  left  —  matty’s  the  one  that  just  threw  in  the  towel  at  a  bump  in  the  road  instead  of  staying  to  work  through  it  together  .  and  now  ,  he  can  feel  the  guilt  beginning  to  claw  at  his  throat  ,  jaw  setting  as  he  sat  there  wallowing  in  the  silence  that  had  overtaken  the  both  of  them  .             but  then  it  breaks  ;  matty’s  shifting  in  his  seat  ,  mirroring  mikey’s  stance  and  turning  towards  the  window  .  “  you  should  be  .  ”  he  utters  ,  just  barely  above  a  whisper  .  matty  thinks  he  deserves  it  .  if  not  for  this  ,  for  two  months  ago  ,  or  for  ever  meeting  in  the  first  place  —  no  .  he  can’t  believe  the  thought  even  slipped  into  his  mind  .  no  matter  how  much  turmoil  his  heart  had  been  put  through  after  their  breakup  ,  he’s  never  regretted  them  .  the  pure  ,  unfiltered  happiness  that  mikey  had  shown  him  …  he  was  better  for  it  ,  even  if  it  wasn’t  always  apparent  .  that  stinging  sensation’s  back  now  ,  and  he  blinks  a  little  quicker  at  the  feeling  of  his  eyes  getting  wet  .  he’s  feeling  too  much  all  at  once  right  now  ,  and  his  inebriated  mind  can’t  keep  up  (  not  that  he’s  the  most  in  touch  with  his  emotions  anyways  )  .             as  the  car  pulls  up  outside  of  mikey’s  building  ,  matty  finds  himself  sitting  back  further  on  the  seat  ,  arms  crossing  over  his  chest  defiantly  .  he’s  sensitive  ,  and  now  he’s  hurt  his  own  feelings  from  thinking  so  damn  much  .  maybe  the  backseat  of  a  taxi  cab  isn’t  really  the  best  place  to  catch  an  attitude  ,  but  he’s  matty  .  it  was  bound  to  happen  one  way  or  another  —  that  sourness  that  sat  beneath  his  skin  and  perpetuated  his  constant  scowl  would  always  find  a  way  to  rear  its  ugly  head  .  and  now  ,  drunk  off  his  ass  ,  he  had  no  chance  of  filtering  it  .  “  you  sure  you  want  me  in  your  apartment  for  the  night  when  you  can’t  even  fucking  look  at  me  ?  ”  his  voice  starts  out  strong  ,  brash  ,  but  whittles  down  to  something  cracked  by  the  time  he’s  done  .  he  blinks  ,  reluctantly  turning  to  look  at  mikey  ,  eyes  reddened  ,  “  you  don’t  have  to  do  this  for  me  anymore  .  ”

         matty's words cut deeper than he would like. of course he has no way of knowing how desolate mikey’s apartment feels without him, how much space lingers in the shadows and how empty his bed feels at night, and how, in spite of all that, he still could never bare to bring someone else into the space like that. the problem is mikey wants matty too much — and he's starting to think he'll always want him in whatever capacity that matty offers him. and he's trying so hard to go against every instinct that begs him to wrap himself around matty, to keep him close, that it's coming across as INDIFFERENT and DISTANT when the truth couldn't land any further from that. ( but matty sounds so upset, and that sparks hope : does he want this as much as mikey does ?? or is that just the cruel vice of alcohol doing the talking ?? ).

         he pulls bills from his wallet, barely pausing to count it before shoving it at the driver, unsure of how to answer that in a way that won't hurt them both. but then matty is looking at him, pitiful words drawing his own attention like a magnet, and the look in his eyes is one mikey never wants to see on him again.      " matty — i — "      he swallows, and the urge to reach out swells up in him as strong as ever until he finally just lets himself lean into it. ( how STUPID he was to ever thing he could resist this ). he twists in the backseat, fingers come up to graze the line of matty's jaw, his hand resting gently there, gaze HELD in a way that almost feels like talons across the tissue of his heart. he can count on one hand the number of times he’s seen matty cry, and now, knowing the reason is HIM sends his stomach churning, guilt girdling his chest. he never meant to hurt him, not now, not THEN.

          matty’s  not  the  type  to  enjoy  casual  conversation  like  this  ;  definitely  the  type  to  avoid  it  at  all  costs  ,  actually  .  he  has  a  tendency  to  be  rather  frigid  sometimes  .  but  mikey  makes  it  feel  so  easy  .  he’s  half - startled  by  how  readily  he’d  dropped  down  his  guard  —  it’d  probably  be  off - putting  if  it  didn’t  feel  like  such  a  relief  .  closed - lip  smile  pulls  on  the  corners  of  his  lips  at  mikey’s  statement  .  matty  couldn’t  have  phrased  it  better  himself  —  something  about  him  feels  so  familiar  even  though  this  was  only  their  second  encounter  .  eyes  flicker  down  to  mikey’s  hand  as  he  adjusts  the  fabric  of  his  hoodie  before  meeting  his  eyes  once  more  .  “  does  that  mean  i  get  to  keep  it  ?  ”  he  lilts  ,  “  …  until  next  time  ,  at  least  .  ”  matty  can’t  quite  put  a  finger  on  it  ,  but  he  just  knows  there  will  be  a  next  time  —  he  wants  there  to  be  .

-

         " hmmmm. maybe — "     mikey feigns a thoughtful look, though the effect is somewhat undermined by the smile that threatens to break through the facade. next time, next time, next time : yes there WILL be a next time, won't there ?? almost certainly if there's a reason too ( it seems they're playing at the same game in this frozen back alley behind the club — at least mikey fervently HOPES so ).     " only if i get something in return, "     he says finally, an amused smile shaping around the words — though truly, maybe matty was always going to walk out of this with his sweatshirt ; he looks cozy wrapped up in the fabric, an image mikey is loathe to destroy even after he won't be around the see it. arms cross over his chest just for the effect, brows rising to comedically punctuate his question :     " — a FAIR exchange, y'know ?? "

she   pouts   at   the   male’s   defensive   and   standoffish   nature   –––   he’s   never   been   that   way   with   her   and   she’s   unsure   of   what   to   do   exactly   .   maybe   she   could   have   tried   to   persuade   her   mother   a   little   more   to   call   off   the   relationship   …   but   just   like   she   told   matthew   ,   it   would   never   work   .   once   the   woman’s   mind   was   set   on   something   ,   it   was   difficult   to   convince   her   of   anything   else   .   frowns   as   he   asks   why   he   wouldn’t   be   okay   ,   knows   it’s   a   rhetorical   question   and   hopes   that   he   doesn’t   make   her   say   it   again   .   it   was   hard   enough   letting   him   know   the   first   time   .   ‘   are   you   sure   ?   ’   nat   asks   hesitantly   ,   nerves   forcing   the   femme’s   teeth   to   nip   at   her   nails   .   ‘   it   does   matter   !   ’   nathalie   insists   ,   as   she   follows   him   through   to   the   kitchen   ,   a   small   smile   on   her   face   only   due   to   the   fact   that   he   took   the   ice   cream   from   her   .   ‘   ‘cause   i   don’t   wanna   make   you   uncomfortable   ,   i   didn’t   even   wanna   do   this   –––   neither   of   us   do   ,   our   managers   –––   and   ,   well   my   mom   ,   just   said   some   shit   about   reputations   ,   i   dunno   i   wasn’t   really   listening   but   you   know   how   annoying   she   can   be   .   ’   she   stops   to   take   a   breath   however   ,   a   few   seconds   later   the   brunette   is   rambling   again   .   ‘   i   just   ,   i   thought   you   deserved   to   know   .   i   didn’t   want   you   thinking   i   was   betraying   you   ,   especially   because   you   know   i   don’t   like   him   ,   like   ,   at   all   .   but   anyways   ,   i   love   you   and   i’m   sorry   and   if   you   really   hate   this   as   much   as   we   do   maybe   you   can   go   speak   to   my   mom   and   be   like   yeah   ,   i’m   not   down   with   this   .   ’

-

         mikey knows he's being UNREASONABLE. her involvement with matty fake or real or whatever, it shouldn't make a difference because they're an irrelevant equation now ( if only he truly believed that instead of repeating it like a meaningless mantra in his head ). she means well, and somewhere, he is thankful for the heads up rather than finding out from some paparazzi photo splashed across his television screen. still, the look in his eye isn't exactly FRIENDLY as he plops the ice cream down on the counter, the now clean metal spoon he was eating peanut butter off of held carefully in his mouth as he prides the lid off the container none too gently. he doesn't even go for a bowl, just stabs the spoon into the container of panda paws a bit more viciously than necessary.     " i know — "     he says finally, voice SULLEN before a bitter beat of a laugh escapes his lips.     " that's not — "     his voice breaks off abruptly ; he doesn't even know what to SAY. it's hard to imagine how that conversation would go — and if mikey doesn't even have a right to be upset about this in his own head, he certainly has little clout with their managers near CLUELESS to what matty and he had once HELD. the ice cream cools his temper off a little bit, the sweet taste exploding across his tongue as he stares at nath, taking in her cautious and sincere mannerisms. and he finally sighs, not quite FORGIVING but at least resigned.     " — like i said : it doesn't MATTER — we're not — we're not together anymore. "     it’s an admirable statement, almost said like he truly believes it. and then he's going back at the container of ice cream, shoulders finally slumping as if in defeat.     " — but thanks for the heads up or whatever. "