mattfm:
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.
he finally reaches over, a gentle touch caressing the back of matty's hand in his lap before fully covering it with his own. it's not an interlocking of fingers, more just a slight curl into the palm. he doesn't trust himself to do anything else, probably shouldn't even trust himself to do even this ; shouldn't have brought matty back to the apartment that once was theirs in all but the signatures on the lease. " we should — " a beat of silence hangs in the air, full of possibilities and propositions. mikey's still clinging to his hand, voice quiet almost lost in the murmur from the television. " — get some sleep. you've had a rough night. " he needs to let go, gaze dropping to their hands ( the metaphor feels far too stark ). he doesn't let go, gaze pulled straight back up again. matty is so close, so real and tempting and everything he wants. it's like it was outside the taxi, his free hand moving almost of its own accord to gently brush back the curls from matty's forehead. his heart trembles in his chest, eyelids blinking rapidly as the emotion hits him all at once. matty is someone he loves, still loves — maybe he should just accept that.














