Chapter Text
It had become a sort of game. Tedious after all these years, but comforting to know that he’d get to play it day in and day out.
Matt never complained that he made breakfast every morning—as he is the only one that does not work late nights, and is able to wake up earlier and cook. Matt likes to help.
He happily cleans up after dinner, even taking the time to wipe down the stove and backsplash after its every use—his friends deserve a clean kitchen to utilize afterall. Matt likes to help.
Even though he despises the very idea of being anywhere near a boat, he more than happily accompanies Edd on his fishing trips.
Tord would come to him for advice on hair styling, and Matt would go along with him to the store, every single time, with helpful reccomendations.
So many times had Matt guided Tom to his bed after one too many, carefully removing his shoes and tucking him in. Almost lovingly.
Matt likes to help.
Not to say that sometimes it doesn’t get a little tiring.
Which on one occasion, actually caused Matt to make a mistake—one that you typically don’t recover from.
He’d been so beat from working and playing this little game all day.
Extremely tired after walking in the city with a date that told him ‘it was nice to meet him’—fuck that guy honestly.
Which now left him arriving back to the house utterly filled and drowning in that singlemost dangerous emotion.
Loneliness.
That night, he didn’t crawl into his own bed—but knocked on Edd’s door instead.
Searching for someone to tell him that everything would be okay; that he wasn’t crazy for feeling so small.
Edd answered, of course, and let him in with a sympathetic smile.
Matt talked and talked and talked and Edd listened. Understanding and patient.
Edd is kind, Matt thought, as he recieved attentive replies that were nothing short of the sweetest things he’d ever heard from a man.
Wanting connection and fulfillment, Matt acted on the tempting thoughts fuelled by that cruel loneliness.
That night, Matt did not return to his room.
Now there was this big secret within the walls of the house, and Matt felt like he was drowning in it, like he could not breathe with how guilt thickened the air.
Edd suggested they keep quiet about it—no reason they couldn’t still be friends, right?
Then it happened again. And again.
Every Tuesday. Then every other day.
Matt had lived with the weight of this secret for so long that dents made onto the skin of his shoulders, so deep they had become part of him.
He got better at lying, better at excusing himself, skilled at making the nature of their relationship appear platonic.
Then before he knew it, a few months had passed; and like they had been for so long, Edd suggested they get away for a quick ‘shopping trip’.
Of course, they were nowhere near the shops. Instead, they had found an empty and dark parking lot to station the car as they climbed into the backseat.
Edd was impatient tonight, hands roaming hungrily and ripping off clothes with record speed.
“You’re beautiful.” He whispered, eyes blooming with adoration and gentle reverance as he kissed what skin his hands had revealed.
It was when he said things like that where Matt began to question the nature of their relationship. Where that regrettably thin line between friendship and lovers was undeniably weak.
“C’mere.” Edd mumbled as he pulled Matt closer, now rocking them back and forth in their straddled position.
Matt groaned as they did so, already feeling a tightness in his stomach and the heat creeping up his neck. “Mm!”
“Was that good there?” Edd huffed out through the effort of thrusting motions, gripping and holding Matt in place.
Heat was condensating against glass windows, sweat dripping from every surface of their bodies as they moved in tandemn; the pace quickly picking up as the car rocked faster and faster.
“Fuck!” Matt whined into Edd’s shoulder as the pleasure quickly mounted—faster than he had anticipated.
Edd was strong… and big. Albeit, a little shy, but god—who knew how good he would be at this?
Suddenly, the phone rang, spooking them both into freezing entirely.
Matt rotated his body towards the front seat and reached for the buzzing device, scrambling to pick up before arousing suspicion at not answering in time.
“Sorry!” He cleared his throat, meeting Edd’s curious gaze as he awaited response.
Apologising felt like the correct reaction seeing as Matt usually picks up within seconds of ringing. “What’s wrong?”
“We’re stuck.” A voice that sounded like Tom rang from the phone, that was now audible to Edd, judging by the little scoff he let out in reaction.
“Yeah, we’re locked in the storage room.” Tord piped in.
At the same time, Edd smiled lazily and continued to lift Matt’s hips up and back down at a teasing pace.
Matt bit down on his lip and flashed Edd a worried look as Tord continued, “Can one of you please come and open the door for us?”
Edd’s movements were shooting fire through his every nerve, and he was suddenly finding it hard to keep quiet.
He opted for a small wince, “Uuhhm… we sorta just left?”
Tom was next to speak up, sounding pretty anxious. “Can you come back?”
“Oh yeah of course!” Matt immediately replied, which earned him a pleading look from Edd in protest, and a particularly sharp thrust that had his legs shaking.
“We… didn’t drive out too far… but we may still be a while, so just hang on for a bit longer!” Matt was now shouting over moans that he hoped he could conceal. For good measure, he reached over and turned up the car radio volume.
Tord paused for a second before replying in a curt manner, “Thanks.”
Edd snatched the phone out of his hand and threw it away, shifting their weight back in order to buck his hips harder, holding Matt so suffocatingly close.
Given the double-life that Matt had adopted, he had become extremely perceptive when it came to the little things. Game recognises game and all that.
For example, it had become so plainly apparent to Matt, that his dear friend Tom was not doing so well.
How could he tell?
Well, on the one hand, Tom’s actual hands were giving him away—loudly.
His typically uniform and solid, black nail polish was now chipped and imperfect.
This most likely meant that he had no time to redo them as of late, or simply that he had more important—and likely stressful—shit to do.
On the other hand, his face and actions were cleverly concealing his inner turmoil, but a childhood best friend always knows.
Even before Tom himself may even know.
“Hey, Tom?” Matt called out softly from behind Tom.
The small jump he gave at hearing his name only saddened Matt further.
“What’s up?” Tom mumbled, shoving his phone into his pocket.
Now, Tom was never one to open up, and Matt knew it.
If he was gonna coax the truth out of him, he would have to go about this in the gentlest way possible.
Matt was ambitious, but strategic.
“Can I do your nails?” He settled for a positive approach, a clever opening that would keep him close.
Tom retrieved his hands into view, and winced as he caught sight of their state. “You’d be doing me a favor, it seems.”
“Great!” Matt began to guide him upstairs towards his bedroom. “You can tell me all about what happened!”
Tom’s shoulders quickly stiffened, but he allowed himself to be pushed. “What do you mean?”
“Well, clearly something must be happening for you to let your nails get so neglected.” Matt chuckled.
Just vague enough to make it seem like a good guess, but observant enough to make it sound like he knew what he was talking about.
Compliantly sitting on the bed, Tom began chipping away at the remnants of the old polish. “I dunno. Just been stressed, I guess.”
“How come?” Matt proffered in a curious voice, now kneeling in front of Tom with his hand outstretched.
Tom quietly put his hand forward.
“Is it… about what happened at the Zoo?” Matt said casually, almost throwing it out there like he had no suspicions.
Unconvincingly, Tom scoffed and shook his head. “That was crazy, though.”
Matt laughed. “Oh my days, it really was.”
He quietly began to paint each nail with care, taking time to show Tom his progress and confirm he was happy with each little result.
“Have you ever…” Tom suddenly said, although he let himself fall quiet again.
This was his chance. “Yeah?” Matt continued to work like they were having the normal-est of conversations.
After a few moments, Tom cleared his throat and continued. “Have you ever… like… felt that… someone was different now?”
Matt wanted to stew on this, and psychoanalyse every word in order to decipher what Tom could possibly mean.
However, he knew that the longer he left it, the more Tom would feel judged.
“Different, how?” he replied with a measured amount of curiosity in his tone.
“Well…” Tom hesitated. “Like… they’re being super weird.”
Super weird. Wow.
Christ, if Tom wasn’t his dearest friend, he would have smacked him upside the head for being so frustratingly vague.
Matt then paused.
“You wouldn’t happen to be talking about Tord, would you?” He asked before he could stop himself.
It was quickly evident that he should have tried so much harder to do so.
“No, I’m not.” Tom quickly responded. “You know what, just forget it.”
“No! Don’t do that.” Matt jumped up and grabbed both of Tom’s hands, nail polish be damned. “Don’t shut me out, Tommy!”
He did not miss the way that Tom’s nose scrunched at the childhood nickname.
“Talk to me.” He squeezed Tom’s hands reassuringly, like telling him that he understands before ever knowing.
Assurring him, that he’d like to help.
Tom sat in silence for a few seconds, most likely gathering what little courage he could muster in order to become that which he truly loathed.
Vulnerable. Weak.
“No—I don’t know, really. I just feel like he’s being weird.” Tom finally mumbled.
Something about the way he dropped his gaze made Matt want to inject liquid confidence into Tom’s tortured and shrivelled soul.
“How so?” He prompted.
“We just don’t—“ Tom sighed, hard, clearly frustrated. “We don’t fight like we used to.”
Matt heard it said for a second time inside his head as a sort of replay, and found it hard to differ the short statement from that of a disregarded housewife.
The thought made him crack up, head bowing with laughter.
“What?!” Tom asked in a defensive voice, hands wanting to retreat under the firm grasp Matt had on them.
“No! I‘m sorry!” Matt had seldom control over his laughter now, but he raised his head as he spoke, “that just hit me funny! What could you possibly mean by that?”
Tom clicked his teeth impatiently. “I meant exactly what I said! He’s… nice now!”
He stood abruptly and began to pace.
“We used to fight all the time, right? But now I just feel like he’s… I dunno, scared of me? Like, walking on eggshells around me or something. And I can’t help but feel like it’s about what happened.” He blurted out in almost one breath, hands flailing around in distress.
As he talked, his hands wrapped around his own torso, in that self-depracating manner that he was used to.
“Let me get this right—you’re all out of sorts… because you guys aren’t fighting like toddlers anymore?” Matt said in twin confusion and ridicule.
Silence.
Matt sighed, then stood to wrap his arms around his friend. “It’s okay, Tom.”
After consideration, he carefully added, “Y’know… maybe you could talk to him about all of this?”
Tom clearly did not agree by the way he seemed to hold back laughter, “That would make me look so dumb.”
“No, it wouldn’t.” Matt quickly retorted. “I bet you’d feel loads better.”
Akin to that of a business transaction, Tom politely took Matts hands in his own and thanked him for the advice, then left without another word.
He knew very well that Tom had a difficult barrier to breach. That the boy had built brick wall after brick wall, to protect himself, that he ends up suffocating inside a trap of his own making.
No matter. Matt knew deep down that Tom had considered his advice and that he’d eventually find a solution.
And if he doesn’t—thats okay.
Because Matt likes to help.