shhhhyoursister - Tumblr blog

shhhhyoursister · 3 years

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enemies to lovers/band!au

okay yeah heres the final one, the big boy, the one im probably proudest of, i really really hope you guys like it!!

Matteo was lucky that the conductor liked him, because showing up 10 minutes late to the first rehearsal of the year was bad, even for him. Matteo wasn’t known to be the most responsible member of the band, and usually the only thing he could be counted on to do right every rehearsal was show up, and show up on time. He adjusted his grip on his baritone case as he sped down the hall of the music department, cursing as he checked the time on his phone again, and when he got to the door of the theater they rehearsed in, he cracked it open as quietly as he could.

“Ah, Matteo!” the conductor yelled from the stage, and Matteo flinched before stepping fully into the room, “You decided to show up! I was worried you quit after playing that really loud wrong note at the concert last semester.”

“Which one?” Matteo joked back, knowing that if it was any other professor he would have just apologized and rushed to put his instrument together. He was on a first name basis with Rick, who was probably the most laid back member of the music faculty. Some of the players on stage laughed at the exchange, and Matteo smiled as he popped his case open.

“Just hurry up, we do actually need a full band to rehearse,” Rick said, turning back to his stand with a chuckle, “and poor David looks like he’s going to explode if we don’t start soon.”

Matteo rolled his eyes. As if that would make him set his baritone up faster. He ignored the second wave of laughter that followed the conductor’s comment and grabbed the folder with his music, and made his way onto the stage. He took his seat next to the other baritones, in the third chair, and tried to ignore the glare he could feel coming from the clarinet section.

Matteo was a little upset that he had missed his favorite part of each rehearsal; before Rick got there, when people were still whispering to their stand partners, some quietly tuning their instruments or practicing difficult measures, some tapping their feet and counting out the beats. It felt more alive than when everyone was coming together to play one piece, and while Matteo loved the sound of a full band playing beautiful music, he really needed that calm before the storm. It reminded him that the music that he listened to came from people like him, who had to practice and tune and count and focus to produce the notes and phrases that seemed to flow so naturally.

He risked a glance over at David when Rick asked him to play a note so he could tune the band to it, and, like always, felt a little bit of a shiver run through him when he watched David take a deep breath before playing out a long, perfectly in-tune note. He knew it wasn’t only because of the sound of the clarinet, which Matteo secretly thought was the nicest sounding of all the wind instruments. Although David couldn’t stand him, and Matteo didn’t have too many kind feelings towards him either, it was hard to deny that first of all, David was an amazing musician, and second of all, much less importantly, he was really hot.

Matteo didn’t feel bad for thinking it. Every person in the band who was into men was into David. Matteo would hear girls whispering about him while they were setting up their flutes and oboes, and there was the one guy in the saxophone section who had been trying to get his number for a year. It was old news, but Matteo couldn’t help himself from staring at David when he had long measures of rests, and had to admit that David was the cause of his distraction during some rehearsals.

Rick finished tuning the band, and had them flip to the piece that Matteo was the least confident in. He looked up and took a breath with the whole band when the conductor brought his arms up, and dropped his eyes back to the notes a split second before the downbeat.

Inevitably, Matteo got to a part in the song where he had four measures of rest, and he leaned back in his chair a bit and stretched his neck out. He was counting on his fingers and tapping his foot to the tempo and managed to come back in at the right time, only for Rick to cut them off as he flipped aggressively through the papers on his stand.

“Where is the second page? Why do I only have half of the score here?” He asked angrily, and then huffed and said, “Okay, everyone take out the next piece. David, take over for me.”

Matteo rolled his eyes as Rick walked off the stage, and David took his place in front of the band. David always got the most cocky, smug look whenever he was asked to conduct, and some people rolled their eyes because they knew David was harsher, faster, and much less forgiving than Rick was.

“Okay guys, remember we tried to play this last semester, but some people couldn’t keep up,” his eyes flicked to Matteo, who just shrugged, and then smiled as the frown on David’s face deepened and he continued, “as long as everyone watches me, we’ll be able to get through it. Let’s start at the beginning.”

That won’t be too hard, Matteo thought to himself, and smiled before bringing his lips to the mouthpiece.

They got through the first half of the song with no issues, David going slower than usual to let people warm up to playing it again. Matteo knew that the only reason he hadn’t messed up yet was because his eyes were glued to his sheet music, but he saw that the tempo was changing in a few measures so he would have to look up. Once he did, he caught sight of the serious expression on David’s face, his eyes scanning over the band and darting down to the score in front of him, his arms waving and emphasizing different beats in a fluid and practiced way, keeping the tempo while cuing the other instruments to come in.

“Stop, stop! You were supposed to come in there, baritones, what happened? Are we playing too slow for you?”

Matteo (and everyone else) knew that when David was yelling at the baritones, he was really yelling at Matteo. His animosity was known amongst the other students in the band, so they weren’t surprised to hear a critique aimed at that section of the low brass. That was confirmed when Matteo looked up to see David glaring directly at him, his hand that wasn’t holding the baton clenched tightly around the stand.

They got through the rest of the song with no incidents, Matteo purposefully playing quieter to avoid making any loud mistakes. Rick came back just as David was berating them for speeding up at the end, and he clapped him on the shoulder before waving the missing pages of his score in the air.

“Thank you, David, for re-traumatizing your bandmates. Let’s go back to the first piece, and I promise I won’t yell as much as he did.”

The band laughed and David chuckled (at least he’s self aware, Matteo thought to himself) as he took his seat, with one final glance in Matteo’s direction. They could both see each other from where they were sitting, David being at the end of the second row and Matteo diagonal across from him in the back. He watched as David settled back into his seat and picked his clarinet up, his tongue flicking out to wet the reed, and when David’s eyes shifted back over to him he blushed and looked down at the floor. He scowled, angry that he got caught staring.

***

He struggled through the first week, playing confidently when he could and quieting down whenever he got lost until he could figure out where they were again. Sometimes he found himself so confused he would whisper out of the corner of his mouth, “Where are we?” to his stand partner, and she would roll her eyes before pointing out the correct measure.

The next week of rehearsals, Matteo started out on a much better foot. He was running early as opposed to late, and he hummed to himself as he strolled calmly down the hall leading to the theater. There was one measure of their newest song that he just couldn’t get right, and he flipped open his folder as he walked, knowing that the page with that measure would be at the front. He stopped paying attention to where he was walking, tapping out the beat of the notes on his hip, and just as he turned the corner into the room he crashed into someone leaving, and heard an annoyed, “Are you serious?”

He tensed when he recognized David’s voice, and looked up to see the exact glare he was expecting aimed directly at him. He almost missed the stack of papers that David had dropped, and only noticed when one sheet landed perfectly on top of his open folder.

“Sorry,” Matteo muttered, not knowing what else to say, “let me help.”

“No, I’ll do it,” David snapped back, the glare on his face darkening a little as he snatched the paper on top of Matteo’s folder and said, “I had them organized by section, and by part. You’d just fuck it up. Go set up.”

Matteo took a deep breath through his nose, tired of being torn down every single time David spoke to him, and he took another breath before glaring back and saying, “I wouldn’t fuck it up. I know how sheet music works.”

“Yeah, but if Rick wanted you doing any of this I’m sure he would have asked,” David scoffed, kneeling down so he could gather the papers together, “but he didn’t.”

Matteo bit his lip as felt something angry building in his stomach, and he knew it wasn’t professional or smart of him to do but he couldn’t help but bite back, “Look, we all know that you’re just using us to set yourself up for the future, and that’s fine, but it doesn’t give you the excuse to be a fucking asshole all the time.”

He stormed off before he could see David’s reaction, and set his baritone up with trembling fingers. He was already in his seat and tuned up by the time David stalked into the theater with all of the papers, and Matteo watched with a smug grin as David quietly apologized to Rick for being late before handing off the sheet music and taking his seat. He grabbed his clarinet, his fingers pressing down on the keys harder than was probably good for them, and shot Matteo one final, piercing glare before turning to his music. Matteo smiled to himself as the conductor got everyone’s attention.

***

Things got a little more tense after that.

Getting even more on the bad side of the most talented, and most respected (and most feared) musician in the band was not Matteo’s best idea, but he had no idea how to fix it, and didn’t even know if he cared enough to.

Matteo didn’t know exactly what he was going to do once he graduated, but assumed that he’d figure something out. Pit bands were always looking for fresh talent, so he assumed that he would join one of those and get some menial job on the side while he waited to see where his life would lead. He knew that David, on the other hand, had a plan, and it seemed like their interaction in the hallway led David to believe that Matteo was the one thing standing in his way.

Another week of rehearsals went by, Matteo trying his best not to mess up, and failing almost every session. He knew that his conductor was starting to get a little frustrated, and he didn’t know how to explain that his new bout of issues weren’t coming from a lack of understanding the music; it was just difficult to play when you could feel someone openly glaring at you anytime the first clarinets had rests in the music. He and David hadn’t spoken or interacted at all since the incident in the hallway. They had never really spoken before that, so it wasn’t too unusual, but that amount of glaring was new.

And after a day or two, Matteo started glaring back. He would only do it when David wasn’t looking at him, either focused on the music or counting or watching the conductor, and it felt like the smallest form of retaliation that Matteo was willing to participate in. He knew that he couldn’t talk back to Rick, and he was doing all he could to avoid having to actually speak with David, so the glaring was a good alternative.

It was also a bit of a problem, the glaring. Sometimes Matteo would get lost in his own anger, resulting in him getting lost in the music, and Rick would stop the band and tell the baritones to pay attention to the music, not their bandmates, and Matteo would whip his head back to his music, his cheeks red at being caught.

It came to a head during one rehearsal, the first rehearsal since the glaring had started where Rick had to step out of the room. He handed David his baton and walked off with a wave of his hand, and Matteo noticed David smirking in his direction as he took up the position in front of the band.

“Okay, we’re going to start at measure 46,” David said, his eyes yet again scanning over every member of the band, squinting a little as they passed over Matteo, “the low brass has really been struggling with this section, and I’m going to take it faster so we can see exactly who is having trouble.”

Matteo’s eyes widened as he looked over the part David was referencing, realizing quickly that it was the hardest set of measures for the baritone section out of all of their pieces. He looked up again, trying to look determined despite the nerves starting to make his fingers twitch on the valves of his baritone, and caught David smirking at him again. David raised the baton, and Matteo lifted his baritone to his mouth and tried to focus his eyes on the music.

He managed to play through the first few measures correctly, but his nerves got the best of him and he messed up in one of the worst ways you can mess up as a musician; playing during a full-band rest. He felt his entire body tense up as half the band turned to stare at him, and he knew that it was the perfect excuse for David to go off on him.

“I heard that in the baritones, don’t let me hear it again.” David said sternly, the tip of the baton pointing right at Matteo. He looked mad, but there was something slightly encouraging there too, like he was trying to give Matteo another chance.

Matteo was surprised but grateful that his mistake didn’t send David into a fit and really tried to take that second chance and run with it. They started playing again, and Matteo made it through that measure, and then managed to mess up on the next one. He held one note too long and then played a sharp instead of a flat, and David didn’t stop the band but his head flicked to Matteo and he gave him a look that made his fingers freeze, and it took him a measure to come back in because for some reason that look scared him more than the many critiques and looks he had gotten in the past. David looked furious, as if Matteo was messing up intentionally.

They played through the rest of the section, Matteo getting less tense the more measures he played right, and just as they reached the last measure Rick came back into the theater, the door creaking a little behind him, but enough that it distracted Matteo, who not only played the last note wrong, but he felt his face heat up at the monstrous honk that came out the bell of his instrument.

“Matteo!” David snapped, and his other hand grabbed the top half of the baton and quickly bent it, snapping that as well.

Most of the band gasped, Matteo included. David seemed shocked himself, staring down at the fractured wood in his hands. Rick walked up to him and without saying a word, grabbed the two pieces, and turned to face the band with a stoic expression.

“I think I’ll call it for today, everyone. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, before dropping a hand onto David’s shoulder and looking up at Matteo and saying, “You two, in my office.”

Matteo gulped, and tried to ignore the look on David’s face as he got out of his seat and made his way over to his case. He put his baritone away slowly, watching as the rest of the band filtered out through the main doors, some shooting him sympathetic looks as they walked out. He might not have been the best member of the band, but he was nice enough that most people liked him enough, and probably felt bad knowing that he was about to get screamed at. He looked away when he saw David walk into Rick’s office hot on his heels, already saying something that would probably get Matteo in more trouble.

He made his way over to the office once he had all of his stuff together, and took a deep breath before knocking on the door and walking in. He entered and saw Rick sitting at his desk, looking annoyed, and David standing in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked like he had just finished ranting, his face red and his chest heaving, and he turned to fix Matteo with a glare as he walked into the room.

“I don’t know why two of my best musicians hate each other as much as you guys do,” he started, and Matteo’s eyes widened a bit at the bluntness of his statement along with the compliment, “but you need to work it out before next week.”

“Sir, I don’t know if I’d say he’s one of the best-” David started, his voice hiding the hint of a pretentious laugh, and before thinking about it Matteo cut him off.

“You don’t know shit about how I play.”

David turned to him with tight lips and said, “Well, I’ve conducted you before, so I think I have a pretty good idea.”

“Yeah, how could I forget being verbally abused.”

“It wasn’t abuse, if you aren’t going to play right I’m going to say something and I’m sorry if I don't sugarcoat it. I focus on being right, not on being nice.”

“Yeah, obviously.” Matteo muttered under his breath, and just as David turned to him to snap back at him, Rick clapped his hands together, loudly.

“Okay, I know what we’re going to do to fix this.”

***

That was how Matteo found himself the next day, an hour before band was supposed to start, during his only free period of the day, making his way to the music building so he could get to the practice rooms. He was walking slow, making sure to be on time but exactly on time, because he didn’t want to spend a second longer with David than he had to.

To their chagrin, Rick decided that the best way for the two to get along was for David to help Matteo figure out the parts of the music that he was struggling with. He had set up mandatory twice a week private sessions for both of them. Matteo had a feeling they wouldn’t make it past the first week without screaming at each other.

Matteo got to the door of the room he was meant to meet David in, and he could hear shuffling so he knew David was there already. He rolled his eyes and braced himself before pushing into the room.

“Put your instrument together,” David said, not even looking at Matteo as he set two chairs up in front of a stand, “ and get your music out. Let’s not be here any longer than we have to be.”

David finally turned around when Matteo didn’t move, and raised an eyebrow at him. Matteo had been expecting the hostility, and knew what he wanted to say in response.

“If we’re being forced to do this,” he said calmly, dropping his baritone case on the chair and popping it open, “I’m not going to let you be a dick to me. You need to be here just as much as I do. If you’re mean I’ll walk out, and then we’re both fucked. Don’t test me.”

He turned and started setting his baritone up, not waiting for David to react or respond to what he said. He only looked up at him once he sat in the chair and had his music on the stand, and he was surprised to see David look down at the ground, his face almost completely neutral except for the corners of his lips, which were twitching up a little.

“Fine,” David said, sitting down in the other chair, moving his leg quickly when his knee bumped into Matteo’s, “Play it right and I won’t be a dick.”

Matteo rolled his eyes but figured that was the best he was going to get, so he took a deep breath before bringing his mouthpiece up to his lips.

He played through the first few measures that David pointed at, trying to be as quick as he could while still following the tempo David was tapping out and playing the notes correctly. He knew that he had nowhere to hide if he messed up. Not that he really did during their bigger rehearsals, but he also felt much more confident playing by himself. He knew he wasn’t going to mess up the timing of anything, but he was worried about a set of measures near the end that had a beat that was so complicated he couldn’t figure it out.

He messed up right away when they got to it and he stopped, expecting David to make some harsh comment that would have him snapping back, but was surprised when his only reaction was, “Go back a few measures, try it again.”

He tried again and messed it up the same way, and then tried again, before putting his baritone down with a huff. He was frustrated at himself for messing it up, especially for messing it up in front of David, knowing that there was no way he wouldn’t say something sarcastic or rude after Matteo messed up for the third time.

“Why are you counting it like that?” David asked, his voice surprisingly devoid of any mocking or cruel tone. He sounded genuinely curious, but Matteo was still wary.

“I don’t know, because that’s how it looks?” He answered quickly, rolling his eyes, shifting uncomfortably under his horn.

“If I’m promising not to be a dick, you need to promise to take this seriously,” David said, turning to look directly at Matteo for the first time since the lesson had started, “I know you don’t really care about all this, but I do, so if that means teaching you how to fucking count I’ll do it. Now, play it again, but right.”

“Who says I don’t care?” Matteo asked, keeping his baritone firmly in his lap, “And I know how to count. That measure just makes no fucking sense.”

“Yes it does, you just aren’t counting it right,” David said, his voice tight, and he took a breath before saying more calmly, “here, give me your horn, I’ll show you.”

Matteo hesitated before handing it over, and he sighed a little in relief when David took Matteo’s mouthpiece off and took another one out of his bag.

Matteo was always impressed at the sound that David was able to pull out of any instrument he touched. There were multiple times where their conductor would ask David to grab an extra trumpet or sax or flute or set of mallets for a marimba, and would shove him wherever the band needed extra help. The only reason he never sent him to sit with Matteo’s section was because they didn’t have any extra horns, and Matteo was beyond grateful for that.

David pointed at the measure, and said, “See, you’re playing this,” he played out the beat that Matteo had been playing and then stopped and said, “but that amount of notes doesn’t fit in the measure, you’re adding an extra one in the middle. It’s supposed to sound like this,” he raised the baritone to his lips again and played out the measure, tapping his foot loudly as he continued playing so Matteo could hear how that measure fit into the rest of the phrase.

He gave Matteo the horn back after switching the mouthpieces again, and Matteo hesitated before starting to play again, and when he got to the measure and played it the way David showed him, it flowed perfectly into the next one and he even saw David smile a little.

“Yeah, you got it that time,” David said, and Matteo smiled back at him before turning back to his music as David said, “now let’s fix this other part.”

***

After a couple of weeks of the private sessions, Matteo was starting to sense a pattern. They would be completely civil during their one-on-one sessions, David only critiquing when necessary and only with comments that were actually helpful, and then they would get to band and it would start all over again. Matteo would get lost, Rick would snap at his section, he would look over and see David glaring at him or shaking his head in disappointment.

He didn’t know why it was getting to him in a way that it hadn’t before. He always knew that David was a little tougher on him than others, but he had really been hoping that the private sessions would stop the glares and the looks and the scoffs whenever he messed up. If anything, the private sessions only made the actual rehearsals worse.

The second boiling point was reached their third week of the private sessions. Matteo had sat through his perfectly cordial hour with David before band, and was even looking forward to playing that day. He felt like he had finally nailed the set of measures that he and David had been working on so he was excited for Rick to hear him play it right. He was so giddy about it that he even smiled when he caught David looking at him from across the band. David had raised a confused eyebrow at him before shifting his gaze back to the front of the band, and Matteo blushed and looked down at the ground, feeling a little silly.

Again, after a little while the conductor had to step away, and again David took his place at the stand, and picked up the baton. He looked right at Matteo as he told the band that they were going to start a few measures before the one Matteo had been messing up, and he sat up a little straighter and returned the look, nodding when David finished speaking. David nodded the slightest bit back at him before raising his arms, and Matteo breathed with the rest of the band before bringing his mouthpiece up to his lips.

And it was like nothing had changed. Matteo found himself getting lost watching David’s waving his arms in all directions, wild but completely in control of himself and the band. He missed one note and David’s eyes flicked to him, and held there as Matteo panicked and stumbled his way through the measure that he had spent two weeks of private lessons fixing.

He saw David’s jaw clench and he cut the band off with a sharp wave of his hand, before turning his full body in Matteo’s direction to say, “So the last few weeks have been a total waste of my time?”

Matteo didn’t think before standing up and walking off the stage, and out of the theater. He ignored the whispers and looks that followed him out, didn’t think about when he was going to be able to go back and get his case and bag and music, and he walked to the hallway of practice rooms and entered one, slamming the door behind him.

***

He emailed Rick and got permission to skip rehearsal the next day, the conductor ending the email with We really need to figure this out before your issues with David end up hurting the rest of the band. Matteo had read the response and collapsed back into bed, glaring over at his baritone (in the case, his roommate and friends brought his stuff out for him after he left).

It was also the first night of the first concert in the music department. Matteo wasn’t performing but he was required to go, and as he got himself ready in his appropriate concert attire, he worried over the fact that David was going to be there, to perform and to watch. Matteo couldn’t think of something he’d like to do less than watch the dude who embarrassed him in front of their entire band perform and get endless praise for it.

Matteo sat quietly next to his friends throughout the concert, and when David walked onto the stage, he felt himself tense up. His best friend Jonas, a trumpet player who was more than aware of the situation in and out of rehearsal, put a hand on his leg and squeezed, trying to offer a bit of comfort. Matteo smiled tightly at him as David lifted his clarinet to his lips and took a deep breath.

No matter how much Matteo hated him, he couldn’t ignore the fact that David was the best clarinet player he had ever heard. It was like his body and his clarinet were formed together, the way he breathed sound through it and moved around it, how quickly he could run his fingers over the keys and play the most complicated string of notes without a single flaw. Matteo found himself entranced by the song David played, and he opened his eyes when the last note faded out into the otherwise silent theater, and he watched as David kept his clarinet up for a beat after the song finished before his eyes opened, and they looked directly into Matteo’s as the audience clapped around him.

He looked away as quickly as he could, ignoring the face Jonas made at his sudden movement, and tried to focus his attention completely on the girl who stepped up next with her violin. He only let his eyes flick to David once more before the concert was over, and while his view was obscured because David was sitting a few rows ahead of him, Matteo could see his fingers twitching in his lap, probably resisting the urge to make the player follow his lead. The concert was over after that last girl, and Matteo turned to his friends quickly to stop himself from staring in David’s direction again.

Coincidentally, (or not at all) the night of the first concert in the music department was also the night of the first party being held by some people in the percussion section, a couple of guys who had a big house that was perfect for hosting a bunch of drunk but mild-mannered music majors.

Matteo had barely even wanted to go, knowing that his reputation amongst the rest of the band was not a great one. He wasn’t hated, but most only knew of him because of the amount of times per rehearsal the conductor would have to stop and critique the baritones (him) or tell the baritones (him) what measure they were on, and now because of all the new drama with David. He also didn’t want to face his bandmates after walking out during the last rehearsal, but the pushing and prodding of his friends made him reluctantly agree.

“Dude, we’re gonna get you so fucked up you can’t even think about what an asshole Schreibner is,” Carlos said as they made their way to the house.

Matteo snorted as they turned onto the correct block, and they quickly spotted the house that was holding the party. There were lights and music loud enough that they could hear it down the street, and Carlos and Abdi started whooping before running over to it.

“You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” Jonas said when Matteo hesitated near the front door.

Matteo waited another second before shoving into the house, and throwing back over his shoulder, “Who cares about that asshole, I want to drink!”

And drink he did. Matteo was on his third beer after only twenty minutes, and he was considering it a win that he hadn’t seen David yet. He could feel himself getting more drunk, and didn’t know what he would even say to David if he saw him. He was glad that the little corner of the room he and his friends had grabbed seemed to be pretty hidden away.

Matteo was handed a joint after a little while and he grabbed it quickly, sticking the end in his mouth and taking a deep hit. He closed his eyes as he blew the smoke out his nose, and took another hit as he opened his eyes slowly, and saw David walk into the room. He didn’t seem to notice Matteo though, seemingly focused on getting to someone that was standing in the opposite corner.

“I didn’t know that David and Leonie are friends,” Carlos said quietly, staring over at the two, “she’s in the orchestra with Kiki. I heard she’s just like David but worse.”

“Matteo would love her, then,” Jonas said, ruffling his hair, and he flipped him off before taking another hit and passing the joint along.

“Why are talented and attractive people such assholes,” Matteo said, and when the three other boys turned to him, their eyes wide, he asked, “what?”

“Did you just say something nice about David?” Abdi asked with a grin, and Matteo rolled his eyes as the boys all oooohed.

“Me saying he’s attractive and talented isn’t nice, especially when that was the lead up to me calling him an asshole,” Matteo said, grabbing the joint when it was handed back to him, “I don’t have a single nice thing to say about David. He can play good, but he’s a piece of shit and nobody is going to hire someone with his kind of attitude. He thinks just ‘cause he can play and wave his arms around in the air that he’s going to become a famous musician and conductor, but he needs to work on being a decent fucking person first.”

His rant wasn’t the most coherent, but it felt good to get off his chest, and he leaned back against the wall and took a hit to emphasize his point. The boys were quiet, and when Matteo raised an eyebrow at Jonas, he tilted his head to the front of the group where David was standing, scowling at him.

“We need to fucking talk.” David growled out through his teeth, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides, looking like he was going to vibrate out of his skin with the amount of tension in his body.

Matteo said nothing but handed the joint off, and followed after David when he turned and walked out of the room. He was done. At that point he didn’t give a fuck if he got kicked from the program, or if he was fucking kicked out of the school, because he and David needed to settle whatever their issue was then and there.

David led him down the hall and he knocked loudly on a door before shoving it open, and grabbed Matteo’s wrist to pull him inside. Matteo noticed it was a bathroom, and quickly glanced around to see if anybody was watching them. He wondered what they thought was happening. Someone in the band would probably recognize the stiff way David was holding his body, and see Matteo trailing almost lazily behind him, and know that something was about to go down. But someone else might just see two boys going into a bathroom together at a party, and come to a completely different conclusion. Matteo almost laughed at the thought. Yeah, he was gay, but he didn’t know if David was. He didn’t know if David even had the time or patience to date or hook up with anyone.

He could tell that his apparent apathy towards the situation was just pissing David off further, so he closed the door slowly, not even locking it before leaning back against it with a bored sigh. He definitely wasn’t actually as calm as he looked; he crossed his arms across his chest so the shaking in his hands would be less obvious, and it was taking a lot of effort to keep his face neutral when he saw how angry David was. He didn’t think David was going to hurt him or anything, but he was terrified about what the fight could lead to when it came to his position in the band.

“I don’t know what your fucking problem is, Matteo, but I don’t have any kind of attitude. I care about what I do and I want it to be done right. It’s not my fault that you don’t care enough to actually try, but it is really fucking with my experience here,” David said quietly, his voice a little too calm for his red face and clenched fists, “I can’t conduct a band when I need to stop every five seconds because you lose your place.”

Matteo snorted, and leaned his head back against the door. It was taking him a minute to figure out what he wanted to say and he was surprised that David was quiet, like he was giving Matteo the time to think.

“David,” Matteo said, after figuring out what was probably the dumbest part of the whole issue, “you’re good enough to be hired anywhere. Me being a shitty band member won’t stop you,” he paused for a moment, and then picked his head up and said, “And I do try. I’m good. The only reason I’m still here is because they know I’m good. I just don’t need to prove it like you do.”

He was glad that his mind was clear enough to get his exact point across, and he watched David as his words sunk in, realizing that David had probably drank too, considering the way he was leaning back on the counter, his legs a little unsteady. David stared at Matteo for a minute before standing up straighter.

“I don’t need to prove anything,” he said, “I know I’m good.”

“Then why are you such a dick?” Matteo asked, “Like, specifically to me? Yeah, you yell at everyone but you’re just mean to me. Are you homophobic or something?”

Matteo couldn’t stop the thought from drifting through his mind and out his drunk mouth. Maybe David was, and there was going to be no way to solve the issue. What the fuck would he tell Rick?

“What? No, I’m not homophobic,” David said, looking like he wanted to laugh at the idea but was too confused to, “I’m trans.”

“Trans people can be homophobic.” Matteo said, shrugging, knowing that it was a stupid point to make. He was honestly just happy for a break in the tension.

David actually laughed, before tilting his head and smirking at Matteo and saying, “Trust me, I’m not. That would be kinda weird considering I’m also not straight.”

The way he said it made something hot bloom in Matteo’s stomach, and he hated his stupid, gay brain for reacting. That statement combined with the look on David’s face, and the fact that despite their stupid rivalry David was still really fucking hot, was making Matteo lose sight of the original conversation a little.

“You’re hot.” He said, verbalizing his thoughts before he could stop himself, and then he clamped his mouth shut and bit his lip, half terrified that David was going to get angrier, and half glad that he was just getting everything off his chest thanks to the alcohol in his system.

David fell back against the counter, the smirk dropping from his face, and he blinked before stammering out, “Uh. What?”

“I think you heard me,” Matteo said, shrugging, and then he looked off to the side before looking back at David’s confused face and saying again, “you’re hot.”

“Why- what does that have to do with any of this?” David asked, and Matteo couldn’t tell if he was angrier but he sounded different, in a way that made him stand up against the door a little.

He just shrugged again, and then stared at David as he tried to work through whatever was going on in his head. Matteo watched as he stood still for a minute, his fists loosening and tightening at his sides, and he watched as David’s eyes scanned up and down his body with the same focus they would scan the band with, and he watched as David pushed himself off the sink, took a few confident steps forward, and shoved Matteo against the door and pressed their lips together.

Matteo’s eyes widened and then slid closed as he felt David’s hands clutching tight onto his hips, and he grabbed at David’s arms and just as he started moving his lips David pulled away roughly, and was back against the sink in a second.

“That was a bad idea,” David said, holding onto the edge of the sink, avoiding Matteo’s eyes by looking off to the side, “we’re both drunk, we’re fighting, we can’t do that.”

“We don’t have to fight,” Matteo said, knowing that it probably was a bad idea but stepping forward anyway, until he was close enough to see just how tight David was anchoring himself to the sink, “you can tell me to fuck off and I will. Or,” he said, taking another step closer until his foot was kicking against David’s and he could reach out and grab his wrist, “I can stay.”

David only looked back at him when he felt the tug on his arm, and he looked down at Matteo’s hand before looking him in the eyes. Matteo took a risk and slid his hand down, grabbing David’s, and was shocked when David used that grip to pull him in for another kiss, backing him up until his back was smacking into the door again. He got an arm around David’s neck before he was pulling away, again, and Matteo sighed as David rubbed a hand over his face and said, “Fuck, no, this is such a bad idea.”

“Maybe,” Matteo said, rolling his shoulders as he asked, “can you just make up your mind? This is hurting my back.”

David looked at Matteo again, looked him up and down the same way that he had earlier that night, and something seemed to click. He tilted his head again, his eyes filled with a sudden new brightness as he stepped forward, placing his hands on the door on either side of Matteo’s hips, boxing him in.

“Okay, here’s the plan,” he said, and Matteo raised an eyebrow, amused, before he continued, “whatever happens tonight happens, and then we don’t talk about it, and it never happens again. Deal?”

Matteo thought it over for a minute, more trying to get one last little jab at David by making him wait for an answer, and once he saw David’s face go from confident to bordering on annoyed, he grinned and stuck out his hand, and said, “Deal.”

David ignored his hand but grabbed his ass and pulled him in close, his hands dragging up to Matteo’s waist as their mouths met again, and Matteo slid a hand into David’s hair and let himself melt against the door.

***

Matteo woke up the next morning with a dry mouth and a bad headache, both of which he attributed to the hangover he almost definitely had. He couldn’t even remember drinking that much, but the pain behind his eyes was more than just him being tired like usual. He got himself out of bed, just wanting to drink some water and get into a hot shower to wash away the sweat and alcohol from the party.

He got into the bathroom and turned the shower on, tugging his shirt over his head as he yawned and rubbed at his eyes. He blinked at himself in the mirror, taking in the pale face, the fucked up hair, the red eyes, the bruise on his neck, the-

Matteo jolted forward and slapped his hand over the mark on his neck, before moving it so he could gawk at the dark purple and red. Seeing it brought back a rush of memories from the night before, memories that Matteo couldn’t believe he had forgotten, and he stared at himself with wide eyes and let out a quiet, “Fuck.”

***

Matteo debated whether or not he should skip the next band rehearsal. He knew that realisitcally he couldn’t, and that skipping because of a hickey was so dumb that he shouldn’t have even been considering it. He just didn’t want to face his friends and have them ask questions, and even more than that he didn’t want to see David.

He figured that David wasn’t planning on showing up for their usual private session, so he got to band with just enough time to still be considered early, and he found a quiet corner of the theater to set his baritone up in, a row of seats off to the side. He smiled when he saw Jonas come in, but it fell quickly when he saw Jonas notice the hickey on his neck, and the pure joy and confusion that came over his face.

“Dude!” Jonas exclaimed, staring obviously at the mark, “Who gave you that?”

“Someone from the orchestra, I barely remember his name.” Matteo said as casually as he could, having thought of the lie on his way to band. Jonas nodded with a grin and held out his fist, and Matteo rolled his eyes and bumped his against it, grateful that the idea of him and David hooking up was so unbelievable that it wouldn’t even enter Jonas’ mind.

“And what happened with Schreibner?” Jonas was bouncing on his toes, excited for the news and probably expecting a story.

Matteo snorted and rolled his eyes again, before turning back to his half-assembled baritone, and shrugged and said, “We worked it out.”

Fucked it out is more like it, Matteo thought to himself, and he shook his head to rid it of that kind of thinking.

Matteo got settled in his seat, listening to the cacophony around him, and then finally let himself glance around the room to see where David was. He was surprised when he didn’t find him, unable to think of any other time where David showed up late (besides that one time with the sheet music), but the doors suddenly burst open and the conductor walked in, David hot on his heels as always, whispering as they finished up what looked to be an intense conversation.

“Sorry we’re late, we got caught up discussing the sequence of songs for the concert, but I’m glad to see you’re all ready to go.” Rick said as he grabbed his baton, and he waited for David to sit in his usual seat in the clarinet section before counting them into their first song.

Matteo spent the entire rehearsal trying his hardest to not stare at David while doing exactly that, but he was lucky that David never returned his gaze. He seemed to be actively avoiding looking in Matteo’s direction, which made sense considering the deal they had made, but he was still a little let down that David didn’t even look at him. He even found himself disappointed when David didn’t end up conducting that day, and got up and went over to his case once they were dismissed.

He was glaring at his bottle of valve oil, realizing that he was low and was going to need to go get more, when a shadow fell over him. He looked up with a smile, assuming it would be Jonas, but it dropped when he saw David standing there. He had his jacket on, his clarinet case clutched tightly in his hand, and his backpack on his back, and he was staring down at Matteo with something between apathy and irritation on his face.

“Where were you earlier?”

Matteo raised an eyebrow. He tossed the valve oil back in his case before snapping it shut, and stood up and gathered all of his things before turning to face David again and shrugging, letting his eyes drift to the side as he said, “I figured I’d give things a day to chill after...you know.”

“After what?” David asked, with a tilt of his head, and more pointed, forced confusion on his face than Matteo had ever seen. Oh, so that was how it was gonna be.

Matteo smiled back tightly. “You know what, never mind. I’ll be there next time.”

There was a moment where David’s eyes darted down to Matteo’s neck and back up just as quick. His cheeks got a little pink. Matteo smirked.

“Good.” David said simply, and then turned and left. Matteo stared after him, and smirked when he saw David turn again to look at him one more time before almost jogging out of the theater.

Matteo heard a snort from behind him, and he whipped his head around to see Jonas standing there.

“Fuckin’ dick,” he said, tilting his head in the direction of the door, “what was he yelling about this time?”

“Nothing important.” Matteo said, shrugging again, readjusting his grip on his baritone case as they started walking towards the door.

“Is it ever with him?” Jonas joked, elbowing Matteo in the arm, and they both laughed as they left the theater, Jonas waving a goodbye to the people who called out to him. Nobody said anything to Matteo, and he sighed as they made their way down the hall.

“Who knows, man,” Jonas started after a second, pausing and then turning to Matteo with a grin, jabbing him again, “maybe Schreibner is just secretly gay and super jealous of whoever gave you that hickey.”

Matteo snorted, before laughing out loud as they got outside. He shook his head and chuckled when Jonas shot him a confused look.

“I don’t think that’s it.”

*****

The next day that Matteo was meant to meet David, he woke up, and the anxious and dark feeling that settled over him immediately made him want to turn over and go back to sleep. It didn’t have anything to do with David, Matteo knew that, had a diagnosis that proved that, but he couldn’t help the dread that filled him at the thought of sitting in a practice room getting scolded over and over again by the same guy who had given him a hickey the week before.

He lit a joint as he left his place. There were tons of off-campus apartments around his school, and he had managed to get a place with Jonas. It was small, but they had all the rooms they needed, and a balcony attached to Matteo’s room for him to smoke on. It was perfect.

Smoking that day was a bad choice, though. He had gone to band high before, and knew that his fingers would be slower and he wouldn’t be able to focus, but it wouldn’t be any different with the fog filling his head. The only difference was that at least he would be out of it enough to not be bothered by the criticizing.

But by the time he got there, he had almost forgotten that before he had band, he had to see David. He knew it would be obvious he was high, and was preparing himself for whatever David would have to say about it. He was also a little late because he needed to take a minute outside of the building to breath and calm himself down. The weed had done the job of dulling everything coming in, but the anxiety twisting up inside of his gut was still pretty active. He took another shaky breath before pushing into the practice room.

“You’re late.” David said sternly, turning in the seat to glare at Matteo as he shuffled in. Matteo barely acknowledged that he had spoken besides a half shrug until he was settled in his chair, with his baritone set up.

“Bad morning,” he said in a quiet voice, before putting his music on the stand and saying, “let’s just start.”

David went easy on him at first, starting off with one of their simpler songs just to make sure Matteo understood one set of measures that the entire band had been messing up. It didn’t require much complex counting or a lot of movement, so Matteo was playing fine. It was a little further into the session when David switched to a different song, one that Matteo could play most days, but not with his fuzzy brain and fingers that started to shake when David pointed at the measure he wanted Matteo to start with,

He barely got through the first measure before David was cutting him off and telling him to start over, and then stopping him again to count out the beats, and then finally stopping him again when Matteo was playing at a tempo so wrong that he didn’t even know what he was doing.

“Okay, stop, stop,” David said, and he flopped back in his chair with a huff, “what the fuck is going on today?”

“Nothing,” Matteo muttered, leaning back in his chair as well, but crossing his arms over his chest, “I told you, bad morning.”

David turned to stare at him, actually looking at him for the first time he had come in, and Matteo saw understanding dawn on his face before a glare took its place.

“Oh, I get it,” David said, shifting back in his chair, “you’re really trying to get kicked out, aren’t you?”

“No, what the fuck?” Matteo said, shaking his head at the idea.

“So you thought coming in stoned was a good way to keep your spot?”

Matteo froze, before asking quietly, “Are you going to narc?”

David rolled his eyes and snorted, and opened his mouth, before closing it again and leaning back more in his chair. He squinted at Matteo for a second, and then asked, “Why did you do it?”

“What?” Matteo asked, running a hand through his hair, his eyes darting to the side because he hadn’t even thought about what could happen if David told anyone that he had showed up high.

“Get high, before coming here? If you aren’t trying to get kicked out? Did you think it was a good idea?” David seemed almost amused by the conversation.

“None of your fucking business.”

“I kind of think it is, though, if you’re going to be showing up here, at a time that I only agreed to meet at because you need help-”

“Shut the fuck up, you have to be here just as much as I do, in case you forgot,” Matteo snapped, feeling himself losing a bit of the control that he was usually very careful to hold onto, “and if you really need to know, my brain is pretty fucked up and coming here and getting yelled at by you doesn’t help. Shockingly, it makes it worse. So if you’re going to run off and tell the department that I’m high, make sure they know it’s because you’re so unbearable to work with that it’s the only way I can get through it.”

David stared at him, and swallowed, his face unreadable. Matteo took a deep breath and looked down at the ground, his pulse pounding in his ears. He pressed his fingers down on the valves of his baritone as he tried to get his breathing back under control after losing his temper, and with the new panic that was filling him. He was done for. There was no way David would let him get away with all of that, and Matteo knew that the department would not be happy to hear that he showed up to a rehearsal high before screaming at everyone’s favorite.

“Okay,” David said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Matteo’s head whipped to him. “What?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m pissed that you’re high right now,” David said, but his voice was still soft, and he was looking at Matteo with the closest thing to sympathy on his face that Matteo had seen from him, “but brains can suck. And I get that I can be...blunt.”

Matteo snorted. “Blunt, sure.”

“So here’s what we’re gonna do,” David said, and he took his phone out of his pocket and started typing, “have you ever listened to the songs that we’re playing?”

“Well, he played new pieces for us in the beginning of the semester. And I hear them when we play.” Matteo said with a shrug. He had never really been the type to listen to band music. He loved it, and loved playing it, but it already took up so much of his time. When he was listening to music on his own he usually chose stuff that he couldn’t tell you the time signature of.

“Yeah, but sitting in a section of a band and listening to the people around you is really different from hearing it like the audience does,” David said, barely looking up, “we still have some time before rehearsal, so let’s just listen to the songs until it’s time to go. I’ll point out some parts that you’re struggling with so you can hear how you fit into everything else.”

“Oh. Okay. That sounds good.” Matteo said, staring at David in shock as he kept tapping on his phone. After a few seconds, Matteo could hear the run that starts the first song in their program. David raised the volume and set his phone on the stand, and then leaned back in his chair, the corners of his lips turning up as the clarinet came in, playing the solo that David played every class.

“That person played it better,” Matteo said under his breath, a little uncomfortable with how suddenly accommodating David was being. He was sure light teasing was still safe. He smirked at the eyebrow David raised.

They listened to the next couple of songs, David pausing every now and then to point things out or tell Matteo to listen to the part coming up next. Matteo could see his hands twitching on his lap, tapping along to the beat, and sometimes, seemingly without even noticing, his hand would come up and with just a finger he would conduct to the room. Matteo watched until it seemed like David wasn’t paying attention to him anymore, and he leaned back in his own chair, and closed his eyes.

He was still listening, and he continued tapping his foot to the beat of every song that played. As the last note of the last piece played out in the room, Matteo let out the breath he had taken in and held during the final crescendo. He didn’t realize until then that he hadn’t even put away his baritone, the horn just resting in his lap, his hands moving across the brass and pressing down on the valves of their own accord.

“We should probably head out,” Matteo heard, and he opened his eyes slowly, not expecting to meet David’s as quickly as he did. David was staring at him with another unreadable expression, biting his lips as his eyes darted around Matteo’s face, down to his lips, before he bit his own and jumped up from his chair with a, “yeah, we need to be there in ten. Let’s pack up.”

*****

[insert blah blah whatever but then the conductor is like haha later this week im gonna be gone and david is gonna conduct all of you the whole time and matteo is like “lol k” but it actually ends up being fine?? And matteo plays better and david doesnt have to say anything to him and near the end he actually SMILES at him and matteo is like okay oaky….this is kinda nice i like not fighting with this dude also hes STILL SO FUCKING CUTE]

[flash forward to a couple weeks later they're still kinda getting along like they are still constantly teasing and bantering and arguing but its like,, nice and funny and ,maybe flirty??????]

“Why can’t we talk about it?” Matteo asked, finally, snapping his case shut and turning to stare at David’s suddenly stiff back. He heard David’s case zip up after a second, before he turned around, a tight smile on his face.

“Talk about what?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that made it obvious he wasn’t pleased.

“Stop acting like it’s fucking crazy that two people who don’t like each other got drunk at a party and hooked up,” Matteo said, rolling his eyes at David’s carefully controlled expression, “just because you’re so busy and important doesn’t mean you have to be boring.”

“I’m not boring,” David hissed, but he flopped back down in his seat and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling before saying, “I don’t want other people in the band finding out. I have a reputation with them, and I know that...I know this would make things weird.”

“If anything they’ll be jealous of me,” Matteo said with a laugh, “as if you don’t know how many of them eye fuck you while you’re conducting.”

“I’m not...oblivious,” David huffed, and Matteo smirked when he saw his cheeks get red as he looked down at the ground, “and that’s not it.”

Matteo tilted his head, trying to figure out what David meant as he looked up from the ground but off to the side, chewing on his lip. Somewhere in the back of his head a thought started brewing, and once he thought it it was impossible not to clear his throat, and take a breath before asking, “Is it because you think I’m bad? Like, a bad player? Do you not want them knowing you hooked up with me?”

“What? Matteo, no,” David looked at him sincerely for the first time since Matteo had started the conversation, and he reached a hand out, and Matteo jumped when it wrapped gently around his wrist, “I don’t think you’re a bad player, and that...that isn’t the problem. You aren’t the problem with this.”

“Then what is?” Matteo asked, exasperated even though he was the one to ask.

“It’s them,” David said, gesturing vaguely out but Matteo could guess he meant their bandmates, “I love them, but do you know how hard it would be to lead a group of people, including lots of people who have hit on me, if they knew I hooked up with the one member of the band that I-”

“That you what?” Matteo asked too quick, excited to hear the answer.

“That they have seen me get angry in the past- perhaps angrier than necessary.” David said calculating and slow, like admitting it hurt him somewhere deep. Matteo kind of hoped it did. After smiling to himself at that he refocused on the point of the conversation.

“Do you really think I’m planning on telling any of them?” he asked, shaking his head in disbelief, “The only other people I talk to besides you are Carlos, Abdi, and Jonas, and I’m not telling them about any of it because I don’t want them giving me shit for any of it.”

“Why do you even want to talk about this?” David asked, looking up and fixing Matteo with a hard stare, “It happened a while ago, and it’s not like we had some romantic fucking moment of reconiliation. We got drunk, we argued, we hooked up, and now we can move on.”

“Well,” Matteo said, licking his lips and shrugging before looking up at David again, knowing that he didn’t really have a reason besides, “I had fun.”

David opened his mouth, and then closed it again, and then opened it again and just went, “Okay?”

“Didn’t you?” Matteo asked, trying for confidence, but coming off as a little desperate with the way he twisted in his seat to make sure he would catch David’s answer.

“I mean…” David started, his cheeks getting darker as his eyes darted around the room, then down to Matteo’s lips and up to his eyes again as he said, “yeah. I did.”

“Yeah, so,” Matteo said, shrugging again, “what’s the big deal if we acknowledge it? It happened, and now we-” he cut himself off, before taking a deep breath and continuing, “and now we see what happens next.”

David’s eyes popped open. Matteo shrugged again before standing and picking his case up, and his bag, and taking a couple of steps to the door. He turned when he heard silence behind him, and saw David frozen in his seat, still staring at him. He stared back for a moment before gesturing out the door and asking, “Are you coming?”

David blinked and nodded, before getting up and gathering his things as well, and he followed Matteo out the door, and they made the short trek to rehearsal.

Matteo felt different sitting down next to his bandmates that day. He was still full of adrenaline, but felt ready to play, quietly humming one of their songs to himself as his fingers pressed down on the associated valves. He couldn’t stop his gaze from flicking to David every few minutes, and he caught David looking back just as Rick walked onto the stage. David coughed and looked away, and Matteo smiled to himself before leaning back in his seat.

He could feel David’s eyes on him throughout the rehearsal, and he was surprised, but it encouraged him to keep sneaking peeks as well. His eyes would wander up from the page even when he was playing just to catch a glimpse of David in his seat, sitting up straight, his strong arms and shoulders holding the clarinet up, his lips wrapped around the mouthpiece-

Matteo was glad he had a lot of rests.

“David! You were supposed to come in there!” Rick yelled suddenly, smacking the score in front of him with his baton, “You’ve never missed that cue before, what’s got you so distracted today?”

The band was silent and they watched David blush as he said, “Sorry, Rick, I’ll focus better. Won’t happen again.”

The conductor just shook his head before telling them to start the piece over, which was followed by angry grumbles and the sound of papers flipping. David looked down at the ground, his cheeks an angry red, and Matteo bit back the smile that threatened to grow on his face.

[david cancels their next private lesson and matteo is like what why and then he gets to band that day and david is conducting again and he basically ignore matteo the entire time and matteo is a lil mad and then after matteo goes up to him and is like “hey wtf why did you cancel on me and then not even correct me when i messed up” and david is like “fuck cause youre super fucknig distracting now and i cant spend an hour alone with you and then get up in front of a group of people and conduct like an idiot cause im too busy thinking about YOU” but hes likes embarassed and actually mad about it and matteo is like oh my god are we going back to the anger i thought we were passed that and davids like well i guess not and matteos like lmao do we need to hook up again cause that seemed like it worked pretty well last time and david is like,, so fucking pissed but is more pissed that hes kind of into that idea so he locks the practice room door and basically they hook up in the practice room because wow what a fantasy that is]

[things are like….weird but chill for a while after that. It seemed like being able to hook up with matteo again made david less distracted by him in a destructive way and even put a bit of a pep in his step?? And matteo notices that hes being a bit nicer to everyone, not just him, and hes actually smiling and complimenting matteo during their private sessions, and even though nothing is explicitly referenced they both know something's going on. Neither of them would call the other a friend though]

[this is after they hook up the third time, which is the first time that isnt completely out of anger but they arent really friends They just happened to run into each other after a concert and were both being a bit flirty and matteo was very boldly like “hey uh come back to my place” because he thinks and david actually does]

“Tell me something about you,” Matteo said, turning his head and propping it up on his arms so he could see David. The light was low in the room, and the plant near his lamp was casting strange shadows on the walls, and on David himself, leaned back against the wall like he was.

“Uh,” David started, his eyes dancing around the room as he tried to think of something, “I started playing the clarinet when I was-”

Matteo reached out and pinched his leg. David twitched, and raised an eyebrow at him. Matteo hoped that David was okay with the fact that he just kept touching him. It was hard to keep his hands away, and he didn’t know David’s comfort level with non-sexual physical contact. So far he seemed more amused than anything else.

“Tell me something not related to music.” Matteo said, and David snorted at the request.

“Why?” He asked, reaching down to push Matteo’s hair out of his eyes. He bit his lip, wishing that David kept his hand on him longer.

“I just think, you know,” Matteo said, hoping he wasn’t pushing it by sliding his hand onto David’s thigh, the same one he had pinched, “might not be the time to to get into that topic. Just in case.”

I don’t want to start arguing when we just had really great sex and we’re like five minutes away from cuddling if I play my cards right, is what Matteo was thinking, but he figured he got the point across.

David hummed, and nodded, the amused smile still on his face, and tilted his head against the wall and said, “Okay, let me think.”

Matteo stared at him, from where the blanket was draped over his lap, up his bare chest, up the angle of his neck, and still found himself blown away at how beautiful he was. He sighed, glad that David wasn’t watching him swoon.

“Okay I got something,” David said suddenly, turning to Matteo, his eyes bright, “so, growing up we had a cat. My sister got to name it because she was older, and she named the cat Martha Jones, after a Doctor Who character. That cat fucking hated me.”

Matteo laughed, but David didn’t look like he was done, so he prompted him with, “And?”

“Years later, I moved in with my sister, and she wants us to get another cat. So, we go to a shelter, and there’s a cage in the back with a sign on it that says ‘Martha Jones’. Completely different cat, but of course my sister says we have to see her.”

Matteo nodded, enthralled.

“So she goes to ask a worker, and this dude says that that cat was a biter, would hiss, and scratched anyone that went near her unless they had food. Laura insisted, because she’s stubborn, so they brought us into a room and the dude basically tossed the cat in with us and closed the door.”

“That doesn’t sound safe.” Matteo said, shifting closer until he was able to rest his head in David’s lap. He couldn't hold back the need any longer, and he was pleased when David started playing with his hair.

“It wasn’t, she immediately scratched me so bad I started bleeding,” David said with a chuckle, “but she chilled out after a bit, my sister was very persistent. After like 20 minutes she was purring in my lap.” David finished with a proud smile down at Matteo.

If Matteo hadn’t already been crushing that would’ve sealed the deal. It did make something soft settle in his chest, and made his hands a little tingly, and he didn’t think twice before asking, “Can I see a picture?”

David looked thrilled at the question, and he leaned over to grab his phone. Matteo watched, biting back a grin as David scrolled through his pictures before settling on one and handing his phone over, obviously excited for Matteo to see.

The first thing Matteo could make out was a metal music stand, the same basic kind he had in his room for practicing, but it was tilted so the tray was lying flat. He grinned at the cat bed that was resting on top of it, and actually awwwed out loud at the pretty calico, splayed out on her back in a sunbeam. The stand was in front of a large window, and Matteo could see plants around it, and he wondered if it was David’s room.

“Yeah,” David said, looking at the picture again himself before putting his phone down. Matteo felt a tug on his hair, and he looked up to see David staring down at him, and he said, “now you.”

“Me? I don’t have any cats to show off,” Matteo said, wrapping his arms around David’s legs so he could squeeze himself closer.

“No, now you have to tell me something about yourself,” David said, rolling his eyes, but his face was softer than Matteo had ever seen it.

“Oh, shit,” Matteo said, not thinking that David was going to turn the conversation on him, and he hummed for a second before saying the first thing he could think of, “well, I like to sing. When I was younger I used to have a vocal coach and everything, now I mostly just sing whenever my roommate isn’t home.”

It wasn’t something he brought up, or really thought about too often, because ultimately the decision for him to stop the training was out of his hands, and he regretted not being able to go farther with it the same way he could with the baritone.

“Why’d you stop?” David asked, his voice soft, as if he could sense the sadness underlying the statement.

“Well,” Matteo said, shifting back a little bit so he could roll onto his back and say it up to the ceiling, “my mom was the one who got me the lessons, I had already been taking them for the baritone for a year or so. My dad got pissed, because I was already singing in the church choir at that point, and he didn’t want singing to distract from my other music shit. When I got older, uh,” he paused to take a breath, “there was a while where my mom wasn’t living with us, so all the singing lessons stopped. I stopped singing at church, too, and, well. I was better at the baritone anyway.”

He hadn’t noticed that while he had been talking, David had slid down more on the bed until he was resting on his side, and he was staring with a concerned look when Matteo turned to him again,

“They have vocal coaches through the school,” David said, an arm inching across the mattress towards Matteo, “you can sign up for one, if you want. I can get you the email of the person who sets them up, I-”

Matteo laughed at David’s eagerness to help, cutting him off, and rolled back over onto his side, surprised at how close he found himself to David. He felt a hand gently sliding onto his hip, and he bit his lip, his eyes meeting David’s, and he leaned in to kiss him.

David didn’t seem to have expected it. He made a sound, and Matteo worried for a moment that he was going to pull away but instead he was pulled in closer, David’s hand sliding onto the small of his back. He pulled away, and David rolled onto his back, his cheeks pink.

“Thanks, but I don’t need any of that,” Matteo said, and he hesitantly let his head drop onto David’s shoulder, and then let his arm drape across his stomach when David tangled their legs together, “it’s just something I do for fun now.”

“For fun,” David repeated, and then took a breath and asked, “since the topic of music is back on the table, do you want to hear a secret?”

Matteo looked up, amused, and then propped his chin on David’s chest so he could see him better, and he said, “Yes, please.”

“So, I can play almost every wind instrument, right? And brass too, and I can figure out percussion pretty quickly. I can pretty much play anything you’ll find in the average wind ensemble, and then some.”

Matteo rolled his eyes, “That’s not a secret.”

“Yeah, but,” David took another breath, and it seemed like it actually pained him to say, “I can’t play anything with fucking strings.”

“Really?” Matteo asked, leaning up a bit more so he could see the hurt on David’s face, and he grinned, and questioned, “not even guitar? Or ukulele? Even I can play those a bit.”

“Nope,” David sulked, “nothing. One time my friend gave me her violin to try and she said I should be banned from ever touching anything with strings again.”

Matteo covered his mouth with his hands to stop the giggles that were threatening to pour out of him. It wasn’t like there was any actual expectation that David was able to play every single instrument that existed, but the shame he seemed to be feeling about his own inability was hilarious.

“Now you have to tell me something else too,” David said, poking Matteo in the cheek, obviously trying to change the subject,

“You offered that information up freely, I don’t have to tell you shit.” Matteo snarked back. He was still reeling from how strange this new dynamic was, and he wanted to push a bit, see what was allowed.

David scrunched his face up before suddenly grabbing Matteo’s wrist and flipping him onto his back, David hovering over him, looking much too pleased with himself. Once he could tell Matteo wasn’t going to try to move he slid his hand off his wrist and down his chest, onto his hip, and blinked his dark eyes slow and said, “Tell me something.”

“I can speak Italian,” Matteo blurted out immediately, unable to resist a hot, mostly naked boy pinning him to his bed.

“Oh yeah?” David asked with a grin, “Fluently?”

“Yeah,” Matteo said, his eyes wide as he stared up at David, “my dad’s from Italy, we spoke it when I was growing up.”

David hummed, still looking down at Matteo with the same cocky smile on his face, and said, “Say something.”

“No,” Matteo refused, and with a sudden burst of confidence he slid his hand onto the back of David’s head and said, “kiss me.”

David’s eyes widened but he smiled, and did as told. The conversation ended there.

*****

A few days later, a weekend, Matteo walked out onto his balcony. It was midday, and he had already eaten and gotten the work done for his academic classes, so he had an unlit joint dangling between his lips. He stretched, and squinted when the sun shone down on him bright enough to hurt his eyes. He dashed back into his room, intent on finding the sunglasses he knew were somewhere, and he saw something balanced against the wall in the corner that made him pause.

It was a ukulele, his ukulele, one that a random family member had gotten him when he was first accepted to the school. It was a bright blue, and Matteo knew that with most instruments a bright color didn’t ensure the best quality, but he didn’t mind because he barely played the thing. It was good enough for the random time every few months where Matteo would decide to teach himself a new song.

He thought back on his conversation with David. He felt the corners of his lips twitch up, remembering David’s pained face when he revealed his secret, and with a small laugh he grabbed the neck of the ukulele and tucked it under his arm. He found his sunglasses on the floor next to his desk, and slid them onto his face before walking back out the door.

He leaned against the railing of the balcony as he lit the joint, smiling around it, and puffing the smoke out his nose. His room faced out to an empty street, across from a bunch of buildings that he was sure nobody had gone inside for years. He liked how private it felt, for the years he had lived there he had only seen a handful of people out there.

Which made it the perfect place for him to pluck out a few random chords on the ukulele without the judgement he usually faced when playing music. He wasn’t good by any means, but he knew enough chords to play enough songs to keep himself occupied. There were even a few times when he and Jonas had played together out there, usually after a few beers or joints when Matteo was feeling less self conscious about giggling as he badly played along with Jonas actually playing his guitar.

He puffed on the joint, his eyes closing under the sunglasses as he started strumming. His fingers had settled naturally on the frets, playing the chords to the last song he had taught himself, one Jonas had played in his car that got stuck in Matteo’s head. He hummed along, but stopped when the joint almost fell out of his mouth. He took a step back, rolled his shoulders, and started playing again.

The joint did fall out of his mouth, tumbling to the ground at Matteo’s feet, thankfully not setting anything on fire, when he heard from the street below him, “Matteo?”

Oh god, he recognized the voice immediately. He bent down to grab the joint and stubbed it out on the ashtray conveniently right next to him, and took a deep breath before peeking over the railing. And he was right about the voice, as David was standing there, a hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun, squinting up at the balcony.

“Uh, yeah,” Matteo called back, lifting a hand to wave awkwardly before realizing that he was still clutching the ukulele, so he set it down, his fingers tight around the neck, “that’s me.”

“Nice shades.” David said, smirking up as he moved his hand from his eyes. The sun was going behind some clouds so the glare was gone, and Matteo lifted the sunglasses from his eyes with a blush.

“What are you doing over here?” Matteo asked, leaning over the edge so he could get a closer look. David had a bike next to him, and a backpack tight on his back, obviously either coming or going from somewhere.

“Oh, well, actually,” David said, digging the toe of his shoe into the ground like he was embarrassed by the question, “I was just taking a shortcut.”

Matteo snorted, and looked down at his arms folded across the railing. He didn’t really know what to say. He wasn’t expecting to see David obviously, and it didn’t seem like David’s answer matched his reaction to the question. He wanted to know what that was about. After an almost awkward silence, just as David’s hand tightened around the handle of his bike, Matteo quickly asked, “Do you want to come up?”

Something about David made Matteo do that a lot, blurt out things that drifted through his head that he wouldn’t usually say without a second more to think about it. He blushed after he asked, looking down at his arms again, not wanting to watch David uncomfortably decline. Sometimes it was hard to remember that they weren’t really supposed to like each other.

“Okay.” David said, confidently, and Matteo’s eyes snapped back down. David was looking up at him with his head tilted, a smile on his face like Matteo’s question was a challenge.

“Oh,” Matteo responded, needing to take a minute to realize that David was actually agreeing, “um, go around the front and I’ll buzz you in?”

David nodded, and hopped on his bike and disappeared around the corner of the building. Matteo let out a breath and rushed into his room, looking around with wide eyes to see what he needed to quickly kick under his bed and shove in his closet. He managed to tidy his room up enough to not be embarrassed by the time the buzzer went off, and Matteo ran to it, not even knowing if Jonas was home but desperately hoping he wasn’t.

He pulled the door open, biting his lip when David came into view, smiling slightly in that cocky way he did. He felt like he would swallow his tongue if he spoke out loud so he waved David into the flat, blushing at the chuckle David let out as he did so, and David bowed his head as he walked in, stepping past Matteo and stopping in the entrance to the main part of the flat.

“We should go chill on your balcony,” David said, looking around like he had never been there before. To be fair, the only time David had been there they were stumbling through the dark to Matteo’s room trying to keep their lips connected, so he didn’t blame him for taking the time to look around in the daylight.

Matteo nodded, and then realizing he hadn’t actually said anything since David came up, cleared his throat and said, “Yeah, sure.”

He led an amused David through his room, pointedly avoiding looking at his bed, his face flushing although he kept his eyes trained forward. David didn’t say anything, or even show in any way that he remembered the fact that just days ago they had been wrapped up in each other in that very same bed, kissing and touching and a lot else. Matteo didn’t know how he was so nonchalant about it when the sight of the bed instantly brought the taste of David’s lips to Matteo’s head, the feeling of his hands on him, Matteo’s hands in his hair. He shook his head and pulled the door to the balcony open harder than he meant to.

He was glad that they had chairs set out on the balcony, ones they had found outside some other building when they first moved in. They didn’t match but they were surprisingly comfortable and most importantly, not broken. Matteo only sat after David had picked a chair, and looked up at him, an amused smile still on his face.

“I should tell you that I lied, earlier.” David said suddenly, after Matteo sat. He looked up, confused, at David’s smile.

“Lied about what?”

“I wasn’t really taking a shortcut.”

Matteo raised an eyebrow, “Oh?”

David nodded, and bent down, digging around in the backpack at his feet. Matteo settled back in his seat to watch until David sprang back up with a book in his hand.

“Don’t tell anyone,” David started, flipping to a page near the end, “but I might sometimes sneak into buildings in a way that isn’t totally...legal.”

Matteo smiled at that, tilting his head, and asked, “For any particular reason, or do you just like the thrill?”

David smiled back, not cocky, and said, “It is pretty thrilling, especially when you get chased out by security guards. But I really do it for this.”

His cheeks got a little rosy when he handed the book over to Matteo, and Matteo’s jaw dropped when he looked down at the page. He was expecting words, but instead there was a sketch done in black pencil, and it took Matteo a minute to piece together what it was.

[idk dude figure out what he drew i guess lmao i dont care enough to try to write this part rn]

“These are… really good,” Matteo said, flipping through the pages. He didn’t really know if David wanted him to but he didn’t try to stop him, so Matteo let his eyes wander over the pages.

“Yeah, well,” David said, sounding a little sheepish, “it’s a hobby, I guess.”

Matteo was quiet as he turned page after page, finding sketches of more abandoned buildings, random people, different plants. A cat popped up a few times, which made Matteo smile, along with the doodles of instruments and staff lines half filled with notes. He didn’t realize how long he had been absorbed in the book until he noticed he was on the second to last page. He stared at the drawing that seemed somewhat familiar, a barely-started portrait, a head with short swooping hair, a button nose, a small smile-

“Okay, um,” David said quickly, his hand darting out to grab at the book, “yeah, a lot of those last ones aren’t finished. Not really that interesting.”

“I thought they were,” Matteo muttered, a little annoyed at being interrupted. He had been enjoying himself.

“I, uh,” David started as he shoved the book back into his bag, “don’t usually show that to people.”

Matteo tilted his head. He had never seen David look less sure of himself. He leaned back in the chair, biting his lip, his eyes avoiding Matteo’s. He seemed almost… shy? Timid? Words that Matteo would never associate with David.

“Well, you should,” Matteo said after a moment of silence, “it sucks that you’re amazing at that too.”

That got a bit of a chuckle, and Matteo grinned at David until their eyes met. There was a beat, and then David looked away again.

“I don’t know,” David said, his cheeks getting pink again, “that’s something I really only do when I need to escape. I just… go somewhere, and draw whatever I can find. I don’t really show people because I’m not doing it for anyone else. Like… you know.”

Matteo had a million questions about what he meant by that, but David had crossed his arms over his chest and looked off to the side after saying it, his jaw set. He let out a long exhale through his nose, and Matteo got the hint that he didn’t want to further dissect that statement.

Matteo leaned back in his chair, quiet, trying to figure out how to turn the conversation back around. He could tell David maybe hadn’t meant to say as much as he did, maybe was a little embarrassed at revealing something so personal. Showing off a picture of his cat a week or so prior was nothing compared to talking about something that he was actively keeping to himself. His escape, from what Matteo knew was a very stressful and hectic life.

He thought for a moment, his eyes darting around the balcony to find something to change the topic, to stop David from looking so uncomfortable. His eyes landed on his ukulele. He paused there, the thought alone making his heart race and something nervous twist up in his stomach, but before he could stop himself he reached out and grabbed it, letting it settle in his arms the way it always did. David didn’t look over until Matteo accidentally twanged one of the strings.

“Um,” he said, when David’s eyes widened and a grin started growing over his face, “I’ll trade you.”

The grin stopped, David tilted his head in confusion and asked, “You’ll trade me what?”

“You told me about what you do that’s just for you, that you don’t usually share with other people,” Matteo strummed, quickly adjusting a couple of the tuning pegs until the sound was just right, “only fair that I do the same.”

“I didn’t think that playing the ukulele was that important to you.” David said, uncrossing his arms, relaxing back into his chair a bit. The tension was gone from his face, and his lips were curved up at the sides.

“It’s not,” Matteo said with a smirk that looked more confident than he felt, and he took a deep breath before putting his fingers on the frets.

He started strumming the song he had been playing when David showed up, looking down at his hands because he knew he would need to focus on the chords and not on David looking at him. He took another deep breath, tried not to think about it, and started singing.

“There once was a bittersweet man and they called him Lemon Boy….”

Matteo hadn’t considered the lyrics before singing them, just picking a song that was fresh in his head so he wouldn’t embarrass himself by messing up, not that David would have been shocked by that. It was a simple song, pretty, one that he didn’t have to think too hard about. But as he sang it, as the lyrics came out of his mouth less timid with every word, he felt butterflies in his stomach. He got to the chorus, and closed his eyes.

“Lemon Boy and me started to get along, together,” he sang, ignoring the heat he could feel spreading across his cheeks, “I helped him plant his seeds and we'd mow the lawn in bad weather.”

Matteo stumbled on a chord, managed to fix it in a second but he knew David heard it. He continued, though. David had reminded him of that often, not to stop when he made a mistake.

“It’s actually pretty easy being nice to a bitter boy like him...”

He sang the next verse, getting a little sloppy with the chords as he failed to not think about the words he was singing. He got through it, got halfway through the next chorus, and was suddenly cut off when loud classical music started playing from David’s bag. His hands stilled, and he opened his eyes.

It was as if David hadn’t even noticed he stopped, or the sound coming from somewhere near his feet. His eyes were wide, shiny and dark, staring into Matteo’s, leaning forward in his chair like he didn’t want to miss a single word, a single strum of Matteo’s fingers over the strings. His head was tilted, lips parted just enough that a long shaky breath could escape, his hands gripping tight to the arms of the chair. He looked awed by Matteo’s mediocre performance.

David’s gaze snapped down to his bag when the classical music started again, and he whispered an, “Oh, shit,” as he dug through it. He pulled his phone out and Matteo expected him to put it to his ear, assuming the music was a ringtone, but instead he could see it was an alarm that David turned off with a slide of his finger across the screen.

“I was supposed to be home a while ago, I need to, uh,” David cut himself off as he stood, shoving his phone into his pocket and zipping his bag closed before swinging it onto his back, “I have to do my shot today.”

“Oh,” Matteo responded, not understanding what David meant. He wasn’t able to say anything else, like singing had taken the rest of his voice for the day.

“You know, testosterone?” David stuttered out, nervous, as if Matteo didn’t already know he was trans.

“Oh,” Matteo said again, almost smacking himself in the face when he blurted out, “have fun?”

That made David pause, his franticness to leave slowing as a smile grew over his face. He bit his lip, and then to Matteo’s shock, let out a laugh.

“I’ll try my best,” he said, winking. That action alone was enough to have Matteo collapsing back into his chair. David turned towards the door, put one foot back into the apartment, and then stopped before saying, “oh, and Matteo?”

“Yes?” Matteo said, leaning forward again, greedy to hear whatever David was about to say.

“One day I’ll show people my art. Have an exhibit at a museum, maybe.” he said, turning his head so he could look back at Matteo with a soft smile on his face, “but only if I can hire you to sing there.”

Matteo’s jaw dropped, his face turning bright red as David walked through the door. He flopped back in his chair, waited until he could hear the clicks of his door opening and then closing, and let out the breath he had been holding for who knows how long.

#oi this was a big one #i spent so much time on it and i hope yall like it even though its not finished #davenzi

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shhhhyoursister · 3 years

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childhood friends to lovers!au

yes i am uploading these all at the same time what about it???? yeah so this the one where david is a rich kid who is “forced” to play with matteo (who is autistic in this au) but of course they become best friends because theyre soulmates so ahh i hope you like it!!!

He knows that he shouldn’t be climbing the tree.

His mom has told him at least a hundred times that he shouldn’t. She always tells him that he’s going to fall, bump his head or break his arm, and he needs to come down right this second or he’s going to bed without any dessert which is almost always enough to convince him.

He wraps his legs tight around the branch he’s on and let’s himself fall backwards, hanging with his head poking out just enough under the lowest leaves so he can see if anyone is there. He knows that Laura is doing schoolwork and his mom had been cooking something last he saw her, and he thinks it’s still too early for his dad to be home from work. His eyes scan the huge backyard, and, seeing nobody, he grins and grabs onto the branch to swing himself back up.

He stands, looking down at the dark blue velcro sneakers that he had begged for last time his mom had taken him shoe shopping, and starts walking across the branch like a tightrope. He holds his arms out, careful not to knock into any leaves or twigs jutting out at him. He gets to an upward curve in the branch and puts a foot on it.

It’s higher than he’s climbed before. Usually by this point someone has noticed that he’s gone, his mom or Laura bursting through the glass double doors that led to their backyard, yelling for him. Always calling out a name that makes him glare and wrinkle his nose. He almost loses his footing thinking about it and refocuses.

He knows what his goal is, and he’s only a couple feet away from reaching it. There’s a birds nest in the tree, high high up, that he’s been watching every morning with the binoculars his dad bought him. His mom would watch him pointing them out the window at the pretty blue bird, and one day got down on her knees next to him, pointed to it, and said, “There are going to be new baby birds in the nest soon, I saw two eggs. That mama bird is going to have two little baby birds, just like me.”

And he’s been trying to get a closer look ever since. He loves watching the birds, the whole reason his dad had bought him the binoculars in the first place, and he will spend hours just lying on his back in the grass, sunglasses (that his dad also bought him) snug over his eyes, watching the birds fly overhead.

With his mission reset in his mind, he looks up, seeing the nest close by, and only a little bit higher than he is. If he puts his foot right between those two forking branches, and shifts his weight just the right way and grabs onto that one branch at the right time, he’ll be able to look into the nest. He takes a deep breath and tries to focus. He plants his foot and shoots up next to the nest, grabs the branch, and shakes a leaf out of his face. When he opens his eyes he grins, and starts laughing.

He can see two little birds in the nest, and they’re ugly. Gray and fuzzy, pink bald heads, huge eyes barely open as wiggle around. He watches for a moment, wishing that he could reach out and pet one but listens to his mother’s warnings against doing such. He rebalances himself, shifting his weight onto a different foot, and almost stumbles. He gasps and catches himself quickly. He grins at how fast he was able to grab onto the branch but quickly realizes his mistake when he hears an angry squawk.

He had grabbed onto the branch with the nest, the branch strong enough not to move but his hand close enough to the nest to alert the mama bird, who had been somewhere close by the whole time. He gasps again, quickly letting go as the bird jumps closer to his hand, and starts yelling as he loses his balance enough with the surprise to start falling backwards. He hits the ground, hears a crack and the worst pain he’s ever felt shoot up his arm, and he screams until he hears his mom running out the back door.

***

He throws the biggest tantrum when the doctor, along with his parents, tell him that he isn’t allowed to play rough or run around or climb or do any of his favorite things for weeks. He doesn’t even know how long a week really is but it sounds like it might last forever, and he cries and kicks his legs the whole time they’re in the doctor’s office. It’s summer so all of his friends are going to be playing outside and riding their bikes and going swimming, and now he’s being told he can’t do any of that? It’s the most heartbreaking news a six year old could’ve gotten.

On the way home from the doctor, his parents drag him, still crying, and Laura, who’s just excited about all the fanfare, into an ice cream shop. They tell them to get whatever they want, and he orders at least four different flavors through his angry tears because he always orders for himself. He only stops crying when his dad sets down the huge paper cup of ice cream in front of him, a spoon shoved in it, and says, “Go crazy.”

After he eats until his stomach hurts his parents take him to the store, lead him to the video game section, and tell him to choose three new games. He picks fast, his Wii still so new that he only cares about getting games for that, and his eyes are completely dry by the time they get home that night.

It’s later that night that his parents tell him the news. They both come into his room to tuck him in for the night which is unusual, but he’s thrilled that he’s going to get double the attention, not even complaining like usual about Laura having a later bedtime than him. His dad sits in the big chair across from his bed, his mom settling down on the edge of his bed, both smiling at him.

“You did quite a number on yourself today, kid,” his dad starts, grinning while trying to maintain some kind of authority. His mom looks at his dad and smiles, holding back a laugh. He glares between the two, much less happy about their presence in his room if they’re just there to make fun of him.

“I just wanted to see the baby birds.” he mutters under his breath.

“Well, you have your binoculars for that,” his mom said quietly, placatingly, patting his leg, “and we have some news that might make you a bit more happy.”

He looks up at that, wondering what else his parents were going to give him. He’s no stranger to gifts and treats, but he thought that the new video games and the ice cream were going to be it. He smiles, excited for whatever else it is they have planned.

“Do you remember Mrs. Florenzi? From the restaurant?” his dad says, smiling at his mom again.

The restaurant. He frowns again, not wanting to get into the topic of his dad’s job. He doesn’t even understand what his dad does. All his other friends’ dads are lawyers, or doctors, or other big words that he doesn’t understand. His dad seems to just...own a lot of things. One of those things being his favorite restaurant, that he had purchased a few years earlier. His family went there a few times a month, and he could remember Mrs. Florenzi if he really focused. Long brown hair, kind eyes, always smiling when she sees him at a table. She’s a chef there but sometimes would sneak out of the kitchen to pinch his cheeks. He nods.

“Well, I don’t think we told you, but she has a son around your age, and she needs someone to look after him some days when she’s at work. Since I’m home, and already have two crazy kids running around,” his mom says, poking at him until he giggles, “why not take in a third?”

He tilts his head, thinking about that. He has friends, lots of them., but if he’s going to be stuck inside because of his arm, it might be fun to have a new kid around. Especially so he doesn’t have to go to Laura if he wants to play with someone else, because they fight as much as they get along. After a minute he smiles, says, “Okay!” and drops his head to his pillow as his parents laugh.

Having another boy around sounds like fun.

***

The next day, after breakfast when he’s wandering around his playroom trying to find something to do that was fun but wouldn’t cause his mom to tell him to settle down because of his arm, the doorbell rings. His head pops up, and he runs out of the room just in time to see his mom open the door.

Mrs. Florenzi is waiting on the other side, and he frowns, not seeing a kid with her. She’s smiling and greeting his mom, talking in that way that moms always do when they drop off or pick up their kids. He’s not shy, not in the slightest, but he hangs back a bit. He wants to know where this other boy is.

Mrs. Florenzi seems to notice him, and ducks down to wave, and he waves back, and then walks over and past his mom, and pushes his face out the door to look around. When the moms laugh he pulls back, kind of annoyed at that, and demands, “Where is he?”

The moms laugh again and he considers pulling the face that his mom always chides him for, pouting his lips out big and glaring so hard it makes his head hurt. He hates being laughed at by adults.

“Sorry honey, he’s a bit shy. Matteo, do you want to meet your new friend?”

That’s when he notices the small hand clutching desperately onto Mrs. Florenzi’s skirt. His mouth twists up a little; he doesn’t usually get along with shy kids. He finally sees a blond head poke out from around her, the face on it looking nervous but also a little excited. They stare at each other until Mrs. Florenzi shoves the kid in front of her.

He gets a good look. Matteo is small, scrawny even, and his shoulders are hunched in a bit, making him seem even smaller. His shoes are dirty which he hopes means that Matteo at least like playing outside, and the scratches on Matteo’s knees that match his own makes him even more hopeful. Matteo looks at him, tilting his head, not saying anything, and then he looks off to the side, his hand clenching in the hem of his shirt.

“Hi, Matteo,” his mom says, bending down so she can smile at Matteo, and then shoves him forward and introduces him.

She doesn’t do it right though. She never does. Nobody ever does. He scowls.

Mrs. Florenzi pushes Matteo forward again, into the house, and thanks his mom before leaving for the restaurant with a kiss to Matteo’s head, and something whispered in his ear. He watches the door after she leaves.

He hopes the kid doesn’t start crying.

His mom sends them off so she can do something in the kitchen, and he and Matteo look at each other. Matteo looks nervous almost, probably because of the fierce glare on his face, so he decides to clear that up before the other kid tries to say something.

“That’s not my name you know,” he says, and turns, making his way to the playroom because that’s always a good place to start with new friends, “I don’t have one.”

“You don’t have a name?” Matteo asks, his voice quiet, his face confused, “Then why did your mama call you that?”

He shrugs. Matteo looks uncomfortable with that answer.

“But- everyone has a name,” Matteo says as they reach the door of the playroom, his hand twitching at his side, looking up at the big door in front of them, “you have to. How am I gonna talk to you if you don’t have a name?”

He rolls his eyes, something his parents started scolding him for the second he learned how and when to do it, pushing into the playroom. Nobody really gets it. He shrugs again, and says, “I don’t know but if you call me that I’ll beat you up.”

Matteo’s eyes pop open and he looks nervous. He nods, pushing his arms out at his sides, twisting them in the air and then snapping them back down at his sides.

He nods back, glad that they got that conversation out of the way. He looks around the playroom when Matteo doesn’t say anything, trying to find something to do with this quiet boy who seems like the opposite kind of kid than he usually plays with.

“You have a Wii?” Matteo asks suddenly, pointing at the white console attached to the big TV in the room, his other hand twisting at his side. He’s smiling for the first time since he had come in, bouncing on his feet.

“Yeah!” he exclaims, hoping that Matteo would want to play video games with him because that’s always easy and Laura never wants to, “I got Smash Brothers when I broke my arm, do you wanna play?”

Matteo grins and nods, rocking up onto his toes and his hands flapping at his sides as the game is set up. They both settle in front of the screen in the special chairs his dad had bought for him and Laura, his a light blue (that again, he had to beg for), Laura’s a darker purple. Matteo starts rocking in the chair when he realizes that he can get the momentum to.

“I know!” Matteo calls out a little while later, after they had played enough of the game that they were joking around and laughing with each other, Matteo losing every round but having fun regardless, “We should have nicknames! I want to be Luigi!”

He snorts and asks, “Why Luigi? He’s not as cool as Mario!”

“He’s green, though, that’s my favorite color. I don’t like red.” Matteo says, shrugging and shaking his head, focused completely on the screen in front of them. He’s tapping his fingers on the controller in his hand, pressing buttons, selecting and deselecting his character.

He nods, looking at the character selection screen, thinking that if Matteo picked a Nintendo nickname, he needs to do the same. He considers a bunch of different characters before landing on one and smiling, and he turns to Matteo, proud even though Matteo doesn’t look at him.

“I’ll be Link!” he says, and Matteo turns to him, smiling just as wide.

“I like Link, he’s green too!” Matteo says, and turns back to the screen, starting the next round.

They play for hours. They switch between playing different video games and looking at Pokemon cards and playing dress up with the chest in the back corner and bothering his mom until she feeds them, and when the doorbell rings and his mom calls them both down, he thinks fast.

“Come on,” he whispers to Matteo as he grabs his arm and yanks him out of the playroom, “and don’t talk about my room.”

He opens the door and shoves Matteo in first, glancing down the stairs to see his mom standing at the door, talking to Mrs. Florenzi. Neither of them seemed to notice so he follows and closes the door quietly behind him. He tries to ignore the fact that Matteo is staring around at everything.

It’s not that his room is small, or boring, or that his bed is uncomfortable or that there are monsters hiding in his closet waiting to eat him (he’s too old to be scared of monsters). It’s just ugly. The wallpaper was put up before he was even born, when his parents first found out they were having another baby, and the pink and white flowers made his head hurt. There were lots of marks on the walls from balls he had thrown and toy rocket ships he had “launched into space”. The canopy draped over his bed was cool when he closed it, pretending that he was in a tent in the middle of a jungle, but any other time he despised it.

Matteo stands in the middle of the room, his head tilted back, staring at the ceiling above them. It’s covered in those little glow-in-the-dark stars and planets, something he had begged for after seeing it on TV once. Matteo seems to get lost in his own head, still staring up but spinning in slow circles around the floor. He turns to the door when they both hear a mom voice calling them down, and Matteo’s head whips back to him and he holds a finger over his mouth.

They hide as long as they can, quietly giggling, until his mom decides to check his room even though he almost never chooses to go in there, especially not with friends. Matteo looks like he’s going to cry when he’s escorted out with Mrs. Florenzi’s hand gently pulling his, and he waves bye as the moms reassure the two that they’ll see each other the next day. His mom closes the front door and turns to him with a smile.

“So, did you two have fun?” she asks, and instead of answering he runs into her legs and hugs them.

The next morning can’t come soon enough, and when the bell rings, he jumps up from the table to answer it, ignoring his mom yelling behind him that he needs to come pick his chair back up. He unlocks the front door (he doesn’t know if his parents know he can do that) and smiles at Mrs. Florenzi, who smiles back and pinches his cheek. She greets him and he frowns at the name.

Matteo runs past her into the house, his face bright, and they run up the stairs and into the playroom before they even say hi to each other. He can hear the moms laughing fondly behind them, and he closes the door to shut them back into the little world they had created around them the day before.

“Hi Link.” Matteo giggles, a hand over his mouth like he’s sharing in a secret, and he kind of is.

“Hi Luigi,” he says back, unable to stop his own giggles from escaping, and then points to the TV and asks, “wanna play more?”

Matteo nods enthusiastically, spinning in a circle before flopping into the same chair he had sat in the day before. He starts setting the game up like usual, but frowns when he turns the TV on and doesn’t see the usual black screen with words on it that he could read if he cared enough to.

“What’s wrong? Why isn’t it working?” Matteo asks, and he looks over, and Matteo is staring at the screen, his eyebrows drawn down. He gets up, walking closer to the screen, examining it like he could figure out how to fix it. His hands come up and start rubbing at his arms as he squints.

“My stupid sister did something and then didn’t fix it,” he muttered, and Matteo’s head whipped to him, a surprised smile on his face.

“That’s a bad word, you can’t say that!” he scolds, but he looks secretly pleased.

“I know all the bad words,” says, smirking, proud of that, “even the really bad grown-up ones.”

Matteo looks at him, awe on his face, and he starts bouncing and says, “Wow, I think you’re the coolest friend I have!”

He grins, puffs up his chest a bit. He knows he’s cool, but hasn’t ever been called the coolest before. He’s going to have to make Matteo say it again in front of Laura.

Remembering his sister, he frowns again. He thinks that Laura may have watched a DVD and then not fixed the TV after, and he doesn’t know how to make it the Wii again. He has to either go ask her to change it, or find his mom.

“I have to go get my sister,” he says to Matteo, and then points off to the cabinet containing the Pokemon cards they had looked through the day before, “you can look at those but be careful, they’re fragile.” He doesn’t really know if they are but he had heard his dad call important things that before.

Matteo nods and he walks out of the room, running down the hall to Laura’s room. He isn’t in the mood to talk to his sister when he already has a friend over, especially a friend who thinks he’s cool, but he kicks her door a couple times, bangs on it with his fist, and yells, “Laura!”

He keeps up the noise until the door is wrenched open. Laura is already glaring, her curly hair frizzed around her face making her look even angrier, and he just grins when she crosses her arms over her chest, scowling at him.

“What do you want?” She asks, sneering, and he puts a frown on his face to match hers.

“You messed up the TV, and I have my new friend over, and we can’t play video games!” he sneers, crossing his own arms over his chest, “You need to fix it!”

“Ugh, fine,” she says, and stalks out of her room, shoving past him to get to the playroom. He clenches his fists and follows after her. She closes the playroom door in his face just as he gets to it, and he smacks it with his fist before yanking it open with a growl.

He sees Matteo pressed against the wall on the other side of the room. It seems like Laura hasn’t even noticed him, as she’s focused on the TV, but Matteo’s eyes are wide. He looks towards the door and places a hand flat against the wall.

“Laura, this is my super cool new friend Matteo,” he says, pointing to the boy cowering against the wall, who only presses himself more into it, “Matteo, this is my stupid ugly sister Laura.”

He smiles when Laura shrieks and throws down the chord she was holding, and runs out of the room, yelling behind her, “I’m telling mom!”

He turns to Matteo, who’s still against the wall, but with Laura gone he looks a little less tense. He puts a finger on his lips and waves Matteo over, and once he’s close enough he grabs his hand and whispers, “Come on, we have to go hide now.”

He tugs on Matteo’s hand and quickly, quiety leads him down the stairs. He doesn’t know where his mom is but he can hear Laura stomping around upstairs so he figures they’re safe for a bit. He can see his mom washing dishes at the sink, her back to the hallway that led to the basement, and he tugs again.

They get to the door and he slowly opens it, trying to avoid the loud creak. Once he gets it open as silently as he can, he turns to Matteo and is about to tell him to follow, but as he takes a step down onto the first stair, Matteo’s hand twists out of his.

“No,” he says, stepping back, shaking his head, rubbing at his arms again, “I- I don’t like the dark. I can’t go in basements.”

He grabs for Matteo’s wrist to try and drag him down anyway, but Matteo rips his arm away and wraps it behind his back fast. He glares, and is about to complain and whine and whisper that they need to hurry up because Laura is coming down the stairs, but Matteo glares back at him. He’s wants to argue but instead he rolls his eyes and pushes Matteo back, and then walks past him to the back door.

He pulls it open and runs outside, not even waiting to see if Matteo is following, because Matteo isn’t going to get in trouble if they’re caught. He runs until he finds what he’s looking for, the large shed in their backyard that housed various tools of his father’s and larger toys and bikes and such of his and Laura’s. He puts a hand on the doorknob, and then finally turns, and sees Matteo a little ways behind him. He decides to be nice and take extra long to get the door open.

He can suddenly hear his mom calling for him. His eyes widen and he tugs Matteo inside, who doesn’t seem happy at David’s hand on him so he lets go as soon as he can close the door. He puts a finger over his lips again, and even though Matteo looks mad at him he does the same.

He leads him to the back of the shed where there’s an old playhouse that his dad had built for him and Laura. The only reason it’s in the shed is because he, not loving the colors his parents had chosen for it, decided to splash a can of old black paint he found in his basement all over the exterior walls. He had gotten in trouble for that, but a new playhouse was in it’s spot the next week, a light blue one instead of the pink and purple that the original had been. He opens the door, quickly checks around for bugs or mice, and, seeing a clean enough space, steps inside.

Matteo looks around before hesitantly walking in behind him. He isn’t used to having friends as sensitive as Matteo seems to be, and he reminds himself of the words his mom would sometimes say to him when he’s getting frustrated at someone else, when he’s being too stubborn to think about how someone else might be feeling. His own brain is still a little too interesting to himself, all the thoughts and feelings that come so quickly and leave just as fast, and he sometimes needs to be reminded that other people have their own different, interesting brains.

“We can hide here for a little bit,” he whispers, and then noticing Matteo staring down at the ground, shoulders hunched like the first time he saw him, “are you okay Luigi?”

Matteo looks up, twisting the ends of his shirtsleeves around his fingers.

*** PART TWO

David’s high school graduation present is top surgery. Nothing about it is a surprise due to all of the meetings and consultations and doctor’s visits he needs to complete before they can do the surgery, but it goes by fast enough, probably due to his father’s presence. Or more his father’s money’s presence. He knows that he’s lucky, and can barely even remember the annoying process by the time he’s out of surgery, and on his way to healing again.

They had scheduled everything so he’d be able to go back to school on time, still finishing up the last of his recovery, but healed enough to do the rest of it on his own. As someone who already had a lot of confidence, getting top surgery makes David feel like he’s on top of the world.

His parents take him on a huge shopping trip before he goes, order him everything he adds to his college wishlist on Amazon, and help him pack up his car when it’s time for him to leave. They hug him goodbye, reminding him to be safe, and smart, and to focus on his work but also to have fun, and to call them if he needs money or food or anything. He waves them on and hugs them both quick, too excited to start this next phase of his life to stay and chat long. He gets in his car, starts the engine, and laughs hysterically as he pulls out of the long driveway.

And of course, he thrives there. Being raised in the family he was, he knows how to network, how to get himself out there in the exact ways he wants. The first person he meets is his roommate Jonas, a nice guy around his height with curly brown hair. They bond quickly over the fact that they both brought tons of music posters to hang around the room, and Jonas doesn’t even blink at the trans flag he places in a cup of pens on his desk. He’s perfect.

His classes are easy for him, and more fun than he expected, even the ones not relating to his major. He speaks well, has always been a good student, and gets on all his professor’s radars within the first few weeks with how articulate and insightful he is. He jokingly thinks to himself after getting praised one class for his eloquence, thank god for private school.

He joins as many clubs as he can, too. One for photography, making a note to look for the nice camera he had gotten one Hannukah, some kind of club that he ends up dropping because all of the other guys in it are the type of film bro that David always swears to never become. He also joins LGBT clubs, one for trans people specifically and one more general, and blushes when he’s asked to join the Burlesque club, turning the invitation down with a pleased smile. He makes friends fast through all the clubs, quickly finding people in each of the little niches he was forcing himself into. He tells all of this to Amira with a proud grin that falls the second she decides to start calling him Mr. Popular.

There are other things he does well in, up at school. He’s a little put off at first, how quickly people are to come up to him with small, private smiles already on their faces, touching his shoulder and laughing even when he doesn’t say something funny. The people who would squish themselves up against him at meetings, or put a hand on his arm to ask him a question about something in class. He can’t say he minds the attention at all, feel a little bit in his own cocky way like some prince with suitors parading around his castle doors. It only goes to his head a bit.

That stops a couple months in, when he starts actually noticing the girl in one of his only non-film classes that had been making eyes at him since the first week. Their professor always has the class sit in a circle to “better facilitate discussion” or whatever, after David notices her looking at him, a small smile on her face with her eyebrows raising when she sees him noticing her,, and they spend the rest of that class, raising their eyebrows at each other and smiling, daring the other not to laugh.

David catches her on the way out of class a week later, and finds out that her name is Amelia, finds out that she has one dimple on her left cheek that gets bigger when she laughs, and finally finds out that yes, she’d love to get lunch with him. She has hair that she tells him she dyed the mixture of greens and blues one night when she was drunk off of a bottle of wine and found her roommate’s leftover dye in their bathroom. She

When David gets back after his first year is over, he feels accomplished. He had done fantastic in all his classes, had clubs and friends to return to once the next year started, and as he drives home, music blasting in his car, he realizes he’s excited to have some time off.

When he gets back both of his parents are waiting by the door to greet him, proud smiles on their faces as he tells them about finals, and how much he misses his friends and Jonas and his girlfriend, that he’s definitely going to be inviting some of them to the house over the summer, and that he needs a new pair of headphones because he lost his good ones in the chaos of moving out. He feels like he’s rambling, but he’s excited to see his parents and actually talk to them again.

They tell him that they want to take him out to dinner to celebrate him finishing his first year and doing so well, and he runs up to his room to get changed at their insistence. He would’ve been happy just staying at home, ordering something from the local Mexican place that he’s been missing, but he know if they have an idea for something more celebratory he won’t be able to stop them. That’s confirmed when his dad calls up the stairs that they have a reservation at the most expensive restaurant in his town.

He gets into the backseat of his dad’s truck, buckling himself in and quickly taking his phone out. He wants to see his friends as soon as he can, and had promised to text Amira when he got home. He opened his conversation with her and started typing.

David: Hey, sorry I didn’t text sooner, my parents wanted to take me out and they’ve barely given me time to breathe

As he waits for a response, he realizes that he should probably text his girlfriend, too. He snorts at himself for not thinking about it and opens his messages with Amelia.

David: I’m back!! You’re probably still driving so keep your eyes on the road and text me when you’re home <3

He gets a text from Amira just as it sends, and he switches back to that conversation.

Amira: Ah yes, your best friend is much less important than a fancy dinner David: 🙄

He was going to send more but before he can, his mom sighs, and he hears, “Oh look, we haven’t gone there in so long!”

He picks his head up and looks out the window in the direction she’s staring, and they’re at a red light so David has time to realize that it’s the restaurant his dad owns. He tilts his head, biting the inside of his cheek, and goes back to texting Amira, and checks to see if Amelia responded.

“Maybe we can go another night,” his dad says, turning his head just enough to catch David’s eye over the back of his seat, “we need somewhere fancier, our son just finished his first year of university with straight A’s!”

David smiles before casting one more look out at the restaurant as his dad starts driving again, and once it disappears from sight he turns back to his phone. He doesn’t like to think much about the restaurant, though he knows the reason they haven’t gone in a while. He doesn’t like to think much about that reason, either.

After Matteo was sent to live in Italy, David had a rough time dealing with it. He had lost his best friend, the one person he could talk to about all of the new and terrifying thoughts that were just beginning to drift through his head, he lost him before he even had a real name for him to know. He was angry, at the world for taking him Matteo away, and then at his parents for refusing to let him talk to Mrs. Florenzi about it.

“You don’t understand,” they said to him one night, after he had gotten so frustrated he had kicked a hole through his door and thrown everything off the desk in his room, “yes, you lost your best friend, but she doesn’t have her son with her anymore. If you ask her about him it’ll just make it worse. We know you miss him, but this is for the best.”

He didn’t talk to them for weeks. After about a week of complete silence in the house Laura stormed into his room with the intent to yell at him over something, and it all boiled over. He started crying the second her glare focused on him, and then he started talking. He told her about how Matteo was the only person who understood him, didn’t question what he did or said or called himself, just offered support and companionship no matter what. Through his tears, in a shaky voice, he explained to her that he was a boy, that it was okay if she didn’t want to talk to him anymore but he couldn’t deal with only one person knowing, especially if he didn’t have that person anymore.

She had sat on the edge of his bed and listened, nodding along until David could breathe again. She thanked him, told him that it was okay that he was angry, and asked if he had a name he wanted her to call him. He had hung his head, ashamed that his answer was no. She had nodded at that too, and said, “Well, we’ll find one then.”

David sighs at the memories that had come flooding back at the sight of the old, slightly dilapidated restaurant, and texts another friend. His dad orders a bottle of wine at dinner and pours David glass after glass, until his mom cuts him off with a tipsy laugh of her own, and he’s smiling with red cheeks when they leave later that night, stumbling to the car on steady legs as his parents laugh fondly at his state.

He collapses into bed that night with an urge he hadn’t felt in a couple of years. He takes his phone out and unlocks it after a couple of tries, ignoring the messages from Amira from earlier and opening Instagram. He gets distracted commenting on a friend’s post, but then goes to the search page and hesitates before typing in Matteo Florenzi.

He’s done it before, of course, tried to find him on every new social media site that popped up over the years, and he’s never found anything. That’s why he sits back up in his bed, his jaw dropping open as he sees an account called matteohno, and sees the profile picture, sees that he can almost recognize the face in the tiny circle, and he clicks it.

There are more pictures than he expects. He scrolls to the bottom, trying not to get ahead of himself, and clicks on the first picture he sees. It’s tagged with the name of some restaurant, as far as he can tell, and Matteo is in frame, David can tell it’s him. He has the same button nose, same floppy, dirty blond hair, same half smile on his face like he’s waiting for the right time to let a full one out. David lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He scrolls through all of the pictures, his heart tightening each time Matteo is in them. The memories that have always been hard to think about, of a little boy, sensitive, quiet, happily following David’ lead, were especially hard to reconcile with these new pictures. Matteo looks like he’s grown into himself, more confident in himself or his abilities, David doesn’t know, but it makes him smile and send a pang of something through his chest.

There are pictures of food, and Matteo alone, and Matteo with random other people, all the captions in Italian so David can only guess what they say. He stops when he sees one, Matteo and some other young looking guy, their arms draped over each other’s shoulder as they laugh and each hold up a rainbow flag.

He locks his phone on the image, feeling something strange and nostalgic twist up in his gut, and drops his head onto his pillow. He closes his eyes, thinking back to days full of running through his backyard, hiding from angry parents and talking more deeply about life than kids should be able to.

He wakes up the next day, mid afternoon, with his head pounding and his phone buzzing with a FaceTime call from Jonas.

“Hey, man, is this your shirt?” Jonas asks, and David squints at his screen to see button down shirt he’s holding up, “I think it got lost in all my shit.”

“Uh, maybe?” David says rubbing a hand over his eyes. He blinks them open again and sees Jonas on his screen, smiling knowingly.

“Too much fun celebrating with the parents, huh?”

David flips him off.

“Okay, okay, love you too bro,” Jonas says, chuckling, and then continues, “I have to go though, I just found out that one of my old friends is coming back from Italy this week, I need to call him and yell at him for not telling me.”

David feels his face drop, but puts a smile back on and says goodbye before Jonas hangs up.

#this was a cute one omg i love them #davenzi

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shhhhyoursister · 3 years

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photographer!au

hey yall this is the first of the unfinished aus im going to be uploading, im leaving in all my notes and unedited bits so you can see the process and everything!!! i hope you all enjoy!!!!!!!!!

Matteo felt a bit like a ghost at times, with the way he slowly paced the hallways of his home. It wouldn’t be too out of character for him to have become a ghost without even realizing it, especially being alone in an old, large, dismally lit house for as long as he had been. He was sure the air was swimming with spirits, could tell from the shadows that would quietly slip from room to room, slithering along the walls with nothing really there to cast them.

When he was a kid, he was terrified of his house. Understandably, considering the constant creaking and tapping and thudding that came from the basement, the attic, even the walls in Matteo’s own room. His parents would always tell him “Houses just make sounds, Matteo, you have to get over it,” and eventually he did (figure out how to end)

(start new paragraph) around the time he started realizing how much of a ghost he was, amongst his family and even his friends. Quiet, woeful, longing for some kind of life to live. He could sympathize with them, and his fear vanished.

(rearrange) It still made him laugh, though. His house looked haunted, from the outside and the inside, and the fact that it was surrounded on almost all sides with dense, thick, dark woods didn’t help. Matteo was still sometimes horrified by the noises he heard coming from outside, never knowing quite what was out there. At least his father had updated all the locks before he left.

Another ghost, but one that managed to escape.

The more Matteo thought about it, everyone in his house was a ghost in some way. His father left, leaving almost no trace except for the money that went into the house and Matteo’s bank account, keeping the place safe and livable for a young adult who had never lived on his own before. His mother was also gone, but her departure was much more like something out of an actual scary story. He didn’t like to think about it.

Matteo filled the silence of the empty house with music. He had begged (guilted) his father into buying him a set of bluetooth speakers that were always playing something, usually quieter stuff or instrumentals when he was feeling it. It helped make the house feel more alive, make Matteo feel more alive and connected to the world, and honestly helped hide the noises that would come from any direction with no warning.

He knew that he could also feel more connected to the word if he ever went out into it, but it had been a few months. Sometimes Jonas or Hanna would come over, but people didn’t tend to stay long. He could get why, but it didn’t make him feel better about it. He couldn’t control where he lived, his family was making sure of that. Something about the house being in their family since it was built, it was an important piece of their history, whatever. Matteo was just waiting for some distant cousin of his to call him and say they’re moving in; he was pretty sure he had heard whispers of it happening soon.

The only times he really saw people, besides the couple times a month his friends would dare to enter the house, was when he went out to buy food or weed, the only essentials he had been restocking. He couldn’t remember the last time he got a new shirt, or pair of shoes. He sometimes worried that he had forgotten how to communicate outside of simple small talk and asking for an ounce, with how little he saw people. He didn’t even know if the people physically closest to him could be considered neighbors, as the amount of miles his property took up was too much for him to think about. He sure as hell never saw them around.

Which was why it was so strange when Matteo saw him for the first time.

He wasn’t as scared as he should’ve been to see a dark figure creeping around his property. He was mostly confused, as he lived far enough from any real towns that he had to actually learn how to drive, and had an old pickup truck parked outside to prove it. He looked out the other windows, and didn’t see any cars or anything else outside. It was dark out, and especially dark with the trees around him, and he didn’t even have any lights on his house besides the small lamp next to the couch and his TV. He had been watching something when he noticed the person.

He started wondering if it even was a person. There were tons of wild animals that could have come out of the woods, sniffing around his property looking for scraps. He had seen bears behind his house before, and there was no reason to assume that the thing outside was a person.

Until, as Matteo watched from the window, there was a bright flash from where the figure was standing. Matteo jumped back, yanked the curtain closed, his heart pounding in his chest. He had no clue what the flash was but it confirmed that there was definitely a person behind his house.

The person was still far away, right at the edge of the woods, and Matteo didn’t feel like he was in any imminent danger. He slid the curtain open the tiniest bit, just enough so he could peek an eye out, and saw another flash. After that second flash the figure stood still for a moment, and then bent down, and stood up, lifting what looked like a bike up off the ground. The person mounted the bike, and rode away quickly. Matteo watched the bike disappear in the direction he knew the road was, and he let out a breath.

It might have just been a weird neighbor who got turned around on a nightly bike ride, even though he had been warned since he was a baby to not go outside his house without some kind of light to scare away potential animals. Or maybe it was someone from some organization in his area, making sure the properties were being taken care of. Matteo thought of a million excuses, all of them seeming rational enough to not panic. He triple checked his locks before going to bed, and everything looked good, so he made sure his phone was fully charged and he pulled an old baseball bat out of a closet just in case. Better safe than sorry.

He was still thinking about it the next morning, as he stood at the door leading out the back of his house, steaming a mug of coffee clutched in both hands. No matter the season it was always freezing in the mornings where he lived, and to compensate he was wearing his purple jacket over a sweater over a long-sleeved shirt, two pairs of sweatpants, and a pair of fuzzy rainbow socks over a more boring white pair. The socks had been a gift from Abdi his first birthday after coming out to them, and he had rolled his eyes in the moment but they quickly became his favorite things to slip on in the morning.

He took a sip of the coffee as he stared over the grass leading to the woods, feeling warmth spread all the way to the tips of his fingers. He leaned back against the doorframe, took another sip and then dropped his head back and closed his eyes. He hadn’t slept great the night before, still too full of adrenaline from the person on the bike to even close his eyes. He shivered a little, remembering the previous night, and looked out again, at the spot where he had first noticed the figure.

He was about to turn away, go back inside to text Jonas about the whole thing and joke about it to make himself feel less nervous, but his eyes caught on something. Something flat and dark, lying in the grass, he couldn’t quite make it out but it looked like a book. He stared at it for a good few minutes, and then placed his coffee cup down and wrapped his arms around himself, shoved his feet in the boots he kept by the door, and started walking towards the woods.

There was a wet chill in the air, and he could see his breath as it shakily left his lips. His heart was pounding again, his hands shaking a little where they were clutching his sides, but he strode on, his eyes fixed on the book. He reached the spot, and stood some feet away, glancing around as if the person was going to come running out and snatch the book out from under him. He didn’t see anyone, didn’t hear anything besides the usual morning song of the birds around him, and the rustling trees, and he bent down as quick as he could and grabbed the book.

It was cold, was what he noticed at first, so much so that he almost dropped it right away. He wrapped his hand in his sleeve and looked at it, his second observation being that it seemed to be a journal or something, with no title on the cover or the side, the front and back a dark, brown leather. He tucked it under his arm and quickly shuffled back inside, closing the door behind him and putting the book next to his coffee so he could reabsorb some warmth. Once he could feel his hands again, he looked at the book, and felt a chill go through him that wasn’t from the cold.

Great, he thought to himself, his breathing picking up as he did so, the mysterious dark figure creeping around your backyard in the dark totally isn’t going to be mad that you took their journal. They totally aren’t going to come get it back and they totally aren’t going to have a weapon and they totally aren’t going to kill you when they see that the only person here is a scrawny gay baby who hasn’t even talked to another person in two weeks.

Not the most helpful path for his mind to take. His eyes were still fixed on the book, his brain spitting out thousands of awful things that could be inside it, and he quickly walked over and flipped the cover open. And he titled his head.

The first thing he saw wasn’t words like he was expecting, but what looked like a drawing stuck onto what Matteo thought was a photograph. The background was a dark tree, the black leaves clear and crisp against the background, and the sketch on top was of a bird. It was cool, even if it belonged to someone who was going to come kill Matteo to get it back.

[He flipped the next page, and saw a drawing of a boy in what looked like a dress, with his fist up, and an angry face. He flipped to the next one and saw some sketches of a few different random faces, probably not random to whoever owned the book. He kept looking through the pages, eventually grabbing the book and turning page after page as he started his usual ghostly path around the house. (change to more generic creepy sketches/photographs of houses and Matteo realizes that that’s probably why he was taking pics but he keeps flipping and sees some more personal sketches and some of people)

He must have flipped through hundreds of sketches, photographs stuck onto paper, and combinations of the two, which he knew there was a word for but he couldn’t think of it no matter how hard he tried. When he got to the last page, a little disappointed to be nearing the end, he saw one blank page. The page right before it had a fox, with writing at the bottom that Matteo didn’t read before his attention was caught by the only completely white page in the book.]

He shook his head, dropping the book back onto the table in his kitchen, deciding to forget about it until he ate something and called Jonas to whine to him about it.

He walked to his fridge and pulled it open, frowning when he noticed how empty it was. He sighed as he realized that he needed to go shopping, and looked in all the drawers, only finding a few random pieces of fruit, some tupperwares of old leftovers that he needed to throw out, and some beer. He really needed to go shopping. He pulled the freezer open and smiled when he saw a carton of ice cream he had forgotten he had bought. He wasn’t below eating ice cream for breakfast.

He pulled it out and set it on the counter, and heard a sudden thud thud thud on the wall closest to him. He jumped, but rolled his eyes, and said out loud, “I’m sorry Helena, but I don’t have anything else!”

There was another thud and then quiet, and then a weird scraping sound that got quieter and farther away. He didn’t have names for all of the ghosts in his house, but there were a few prominent ones. He had made up a story about Helena, an old cook who died in a tragic onion slicing incident, who was going to spend the rest of her days scolding anyone in the house for inadequately feeding themselves. He would hear thud anytime he reached for candy over fruit, or pizza over vegetables, or made another pot of spaghetti instead of learning how to make anything else, or closed the fridge without taking anything out. Helena was the loudest by far.

He happily ate his ice cream, and then called Jonas. Jonas not only sounded worried, but a little annoyed at Matteo’s lack of worry about the whole situation.

“Bro, you saw someone creeping around near your house in the middle of the night, found a fucking journal in the same place the next morning, and decided to take it?” Jonas asked, his voice getting higher and higher as he spoke, “do you want to get killed?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone died in this house,” Matteo joked back, making a ghostly wooing noise into the phone, but Jonas didn’t seem to find the humor in the situation.

“Do you want me to come stay for a few days?”

Matteo snorted, “You? Staying over at my house? Jonas, you can barely spend five minutes here without pissing yourself.”

“It’s not my fault that my best friend lives in a fucking haunted house, but I’ll come stay if you if you need me too. I honestly might do it anyway.” Jonas said, and Matteo rolled his eyes.

“Dude, I’m fine. Weirder things have happened here.” He didn’t know how true that was, but he was hoping it would just further deter Jonas from wanting to come by. He didn’t want to spend a week with Jonas jumping at every tiny noise, insulting the ghosts that Matteo considered his friends. That might’ve been a bit of an exaggeration, but it wasn’t fun to have people in your home who were so obviously uncomfortable.

“Well, call me the second anything else happens,” Jonas said, and then said, “no, call the police first, and then call me. Promise?”

“I’m not going to call the police, dude.”

“Matteo,” Jonas said, suddenly serious in a way that made Matteo shut up, the smile slipping from his face, “I already worry about you so fucking much being out there alone, can you at least promise me that you’ll be smart about this?”

Matteo bit his lip, feeling guilty. He didn’t know Jonas worried about him so much. He sighed out, “Okay, okay, if I see anything I’ll call the police, and then you, and anyone else you think I should.”

“Probably Amira too, but don’t tell her about this because she’ll come there and kill you before that other person even has the chance.”

Matteo laughed, and heard Jonas chuckle on the other end. He did really appreciate that his friends cared about him, but he kind of wished they would show it in ways that didn’t involve him getting scolded.

“I’m definitely not going to tell her,” Matteo laughed again, and then got quiet and his own kind of serious and said, “and thanks, dude. I’m sorry I’m scaring you, but I promise I’ll be safe and if I’m not someone will know.”

“Okay, good,” Jonas sounded relieved, “and I will come visit soon, okay? I miss you, man.”

Matteo smiled. They ended the conversation, Jonas relieved that Matteo wasn’t just going to let fate take its course with things. He went back to his fridge after, started looking through the cupboards too, and made a list of everything he needed. He got himself dressed and ready to go out, and hopped in his car and started the engine.

And it didn’t start. He turned the key again, and again, and finally on the fifth try the pickup roared to life. His car was a piece of shit but it usually got him from point A to point B, so he couldn’t complain. He also didn’t have the money for a new one at all, and was planning on selling it whenever he moved to the city. He hated driving.

He made his trip out as quick as possible, feeling strange with all of the eyes of the other store patrons on him. Nobody was actually looking at him but he was so unused to being around people, especially as many as were crowded into the aisles. He grabbed everything he needed and had paid and was back in his car in under twenty minutes, a new record. He blasted music as he made the drive back to his house, and brought the groceries in and shoved them in the fridge with little thought.

He lazed around for the rest of the day until he realized he should probably start making food, and he eyed the fresh produce he had bought, trying to remember the last time he had ingested a vegetable, and he grabbed a bag of spinach and a few other things to make some nutrition-packed eggs to make up for his ice cream breakfast. There was a quiet bang on the wall next to the fridge, Helena’s usual way of giving her approval for Matteo’s food choices.

The sky had darkened as he was cooking, and he was standing in the middle of his kitchen eating the eggs out of the pan with the spatula, because why not, when he saw movement out the window. He paused with the last forkful of eggs halfway to his mouth as he tried to focus his eyes in the almost pitch black outside, and they suddenly caught on what he could only assume was the same person as the night before, standing in the exact spot Matteo had found the book, standing perfectly still.

He held his breath. The figure didn’t move for a while, at least not that Matteo could see, and he put the pan down on the counter, his hands shaking hard as he grabbed at his pocket for his phone. He had just dialed Jonas’ number, not wanting to jump to the police quite yet, when the person suddenly whipped around, grabbed their bike, and rode away, much faster than the night before. Matteo lost track of what direction the person was going in, and his eyes widened as he started panicking that that direction was towards his house.

He dropped his phone, probably the dumbest thing he could have done in the situation, and stood there hyperventilating until he caught the briefest glimpse of what had to be the figure on the bike, once again following the path back to the road. It didn’t completely calm Matteo’s nerves because the person knew that the book was gone, knew that the only house for miles around was Matteo’s and the speed that the person had left at was a little concerning. Not enough for Matteo to call Jonas, but he spent another night wide awake, eyes wide open, on the couch because for some reason it felt safer. He passed out from pure tiredness just as the sun started to creep up over the trees.

And then nothing, for a few days. Matteo found himself constantly glancing towards the windows, sure he was going to see someone right outside brandishing a weapon and demanding entry, the book, and Matteo’s life. He didn’t know why he was so sure that the person was going to kill him for taking it, but it just seemed like the kind of thing that would happen to him. He’d just become an actual ghost and haunt whatever random family member they shoved in the place to keep it in the family.

No, nothing happened until a few days later. Matteo had even started feeling less tense, his eyes darting to the window less, less convinced that he had even needed to be worried in the first place. It wasn’t the first time he had seen someone in the woods near his house, even though all of those times had been during the day and he had at least one parent in the house. It really wasn’t that big of a deal.

Until he was making himself breakfast one morning. He hadn’t wanted to hear it from Helena so he was making eggs again, with peppers instead of spinach for some variety, and he heard a bamg that didn’t sound like one of his usual visitors. He froze, but didn’t hear anything else so he continued sliding his spatula around the pan. He gasped when there was another sudden bang, and few more, and what sounded like something pounding on his door until there was a crack, and even though he wasn’t in the room he could tell by the sound that his door had been forced open.

He turned the stove off, and then again, froze completely in place. His eyes were darting around the room, eyeing the knife on the counter and the thick wooden rolling pin that was leaning out of the sink. He had options to protect himself, if only he could fucking move. He heard footsteps, heavy ones, loud ones, and he snapped into action. He grabbed the rolling pin and strode out of the room, filled with enough adrenaline to be convinced that he could take whoever had just broken into his house.

It didn’t take long for him to find the intruder. He was facing away from Matteo, and when Matteo spotted him he stopped moving. He didn’t see any weapons in the person’s hand, could only really see a large black jacket, black backpack, black pants, black shoes, and the back of a head of curly, dark hair.

Matteo shifted his weight and felt his blood run cold when the floor under him creaked. The person whipped around, and yelled out a terrified, “What the fuck?”

They stared at each other in a shocked silence. The guy in front of him didn’t seem too scary, or like he had come to kill Matteo for stealing his book. He looked scared himself, his bright brown eyes still wide, his lips parted.

“I thought-” the guy stuttered out, shaking his head in shock, “I thought this place was abandoned.”

Matteo tilted his head, wondering if he really was a fucking ghost, or maybe his house was abandoned and he was just considered abandoned along with it. He took a breath when the guy tilted his head back, and then quickly said, “Well, nobody told me that.”

He didn’t know why he was trying to joke around with the person who had just broken into his house. Remembering that fact he felt his breathing speed up a bit, his hands clenching tighter around the rolling pin, and he must have moved it enough to be noticed, because the guy quickly raised his arms, with his palms out as if Matteo had told him to put his hands up and drop any weapons.

“I promise, I really thought this place was abandoned,” he said quickly, stuttering over his words, “I’m a photographer, I take pictures of abandoned places. I promise I didn’t know anyone lived here. Please don’t call the police, this isn’t the first time I’ve accidentally broken in somewhere and they don’t like me very much.”

Matteo furrowed his brows. He noticed the strap around the other’s neck, leading down to a very fancy looking camera gently resting against his chest. His story seemed to check out, so it would have made sense for Matteo to kick the guy out with some stern words, and go to the store and buy the strongest locks on the market.

He didn’t of course, because he’s Matteo, but what he did do was drop the rolling pin to his side and ask, “What’s your name?”

The guy smiled at him, and Matteo couldn’t help but notice that it was a really great smile, and said, “I’m David, and I’m really sorry I kicked your door in. I’ll pay to replace it, and to get you new locks because the ones you have definitely aren’t doing their job.”

“Yeah, obviously,” Matteo snorted, and at the expectant look from David said, “I’m Matteo. And this place is haunted, so it’s good you weren’t trying to break in. Well, trying to break in to do something bad.”

David’s eyes lit up, and he asked, his smile growing, “Haunted?”

“Yep.” Matteo replied, popping the p, smiling when from behind him he heard what sounded like a doorknob being shaken, and then a door creaking and a thud, and said, “that one’s Timmy. He died from shock after walking in on his parents having sex.”

David laughed, his grin growing bigger until his eyes were almost shut from it, and Matteo had to tell himself that it was not the time to start ogling. Just because a boy with the prettiest smile Matteo had ever seen and the nicest laugh he had ever heard was in front of him didn’t mean he had to fall for him. Especially considering the guy had broken into his house.

David started looking around, his eyes only staying on each feature of the house for a second before moving on, and Matteo got so lost in watching his calculating gaze that he jumped when he suddenly said, “This place is amazing, when was it built?”

“Um, I don’t really know,” Matteo said, trying to think back in his memory because he was sure someone told him at some point, “a long ass time ago.”

David laughed again. Matteo’s stomach fluttered at it and he quickly turned around, running his hand over the top of some cabinet that was probably hundreds of years older than him.

“If you want,” he started, ignoring the voice in the back of his head that sounded suspiciously like Jonas yelling at him not to, “you can still take pictures here. If you want it to look authentic you might have to move my Switch and the flatscreen but I’m sure we can work something out.

“No, it’s okay. I don’t want to intrude, I’ve already done that enough.” David replied, shaking his head, though his eyes were still roving around the room, his fingers twitching towards the camera around his neck.

Matteo shrugged, “You wouldn’t be intruding. I don’t really do much, as long as you don’t steal my shit or look through my stuff I don’t really care.”

It was dumb as fuck for him to offer a complete stranger free range of his home, his home in the middle of nowhere, a complete stranger who again, had broken into his house, but it didn’t seem like he needed to be scared of David. He seemed nice, and was way too apologetic about the situation to have any ulterior motives. Matteo hoped, at least. And what did he really care if a cute boy came around a few times to take pictures of his house?

“Are you sure? I can pay you a bit, or have my sister bake you something in return. Is there anything you want?”

Matteo smirked, and said, “Just knock next time and you’re good.”

David smiled back, held a hand out, and said, “You’ve got a deal.”

Matteo grabbed his hand, but quickly pulled away when the second their skin touched, he felt a shock. He looked at his hand, and then back at David who was doing the same, and said, “Might have to cancel that arrangement if you have superpowers.”

“Well, you live in a haunted house, how do I know you aren’t a ghost? Maybe I shouldn’t be accepting offers from ghouls anyway.” David quipped, the corners of his mouth turning up.

“A little late for that, we did shake on it.” Matteo replied, smiling at the back and forth. He hadn’t had such smooth conversation with someone who wasn’t a close friend in years. He kept trying to remind himself that David was there in his house because he broke in, kept trying to stare at the scratches on his boots from kicking the door in, but his eyes were always drawn back up to David’s face.

“Good point,” David said with a grin, and then he looked towards the door, and continued, “I should probably go, I’m sure you’re busy.”

Matteo looked down at himself, at his sweatpants and shirt that had a stain on it, and his rainbow fuzzy socks because of course he was wearing those, and said, “Yeah, lots of important business to take care of.”

“Like buying new locks? And making sure I didn’t break your door? And making sure you get the receipt for everything so I can pay you back?”

“Yep.” Matteo said, popping the p again, blushing when David smiled at him.

“I’ll let you get to that,” he said, and then his face dropped and he said, “and again, I’m so sorry about all of this. I can’t believe I broke into your house and you’re being kind to me.”

“Maybe I just want someone else here for the ghosts to focus on,” he said, and grinned when there was a bang from somewhere behind him, “It can get a little tiring.”

David looked thrilled, and started heading towards the door, calling out on his way, “I can’t wait!”

Matteo watched him walk out the door with a wink thrown over his shoulder, and walked over to the nearest wall, pressed his back against it, and slid down until his ass hit the floor. He dropped his head into his hands, and muttered to himself, “What the fuck just happened?”

There was a quiet knock on the wall a couple of inches away from his head, and he didn’t know who it was from but he appreciated it nonetheless.

***

Matteo made the executive decision to tell absolutely nobody that the first thing he did when someone broke into his house was invite him back. He knew that Jonas would be in a car on his way over in a second just to yell at Matteo in person, and he was sure Amira would learn how to teleport so she could get there first to kick his ass. He figured it was better to keep them in the dark until David turned out to actually be a murderer or something.

He did realize, about an hour after the entire situation happened while waiting for an employee at the hardware store he went to to get him the strongest locks they sold, that he and David hadn’t actually arranged a time for him to come. He didn’t have his number either obviously. And with these new locks he won’t even be able to break in if you don’t answer the door, Matteo thought to himself, laughing just as the employee walked back over. He shot Matteo a strange look as he handed the locks over, and Matteo bought them and left as quickly as he could.

It didn’t really matter too much because a few days later, just as Matteo was twisting the end of a joint he had just rolled, there was a knock on the door. He paused, knowing immediately that it was David because nobody ever came to visit him. He tucked the joint behind his ear and got up, shaking the nerves out of his hands as he walked to the door. He didn’t want to admit how much of his nerves were purely because David was attractive.

He pulled the door open and felt all the air rush out of him. David was standing there with a huge grin on his face, wearing a simple tee shirt and shorts, the camera around his neck and a bag strapped to his back. He tilted his head when Matteo didn’t say anything.

“Hey,” he said finally, stepping back and inviting David in with a slight bow and sweep of his arm, “enter if you dare.”

David took in a dramatic breath and closed his eyes as he stepped over the threshold, and then opened them again, darting around in faux fear at the surroundings. Matteo rolled his own, and crossed his arms over his chest, not really knowing what to say.

Thankfully David seemed to want to get right into working, and he stepped further into the house, his eyes darting around again with actual interest as he studied the foyer of the house. “Can we start in the kitchen?”

Matteo nodded and led him that way, hoping that he had cleaned up from cooking breakfast that morning. He was pleased to see no pots or pans out on the counters, and nothing in the sink, either. David looked around, smiling at the older features and furniture and stepped forward to look closer at the cabinets. He ran his hand over the wood, and then stepped back again, raised the camera to his face, and pressed his finger down. There was a click, the sound of the shutter going off, and then David pulled the camera away from his eye and started clicking through the buttons on it. He turned, took a picture of the open space of the kitchen, and then checked that one too.

#this was a weird but fun one that is not my usual vibe but god did i love this whole idea #davenzi #i guess????#enjoy friends i spent so much time on this

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