#WE COULD GET GUSTHOLOMULE CONFESSION

[blackyote]

It’s been approximately ten hours and twelve minutes since Mattholomule did the bravest thing he’s ever done. Ten hours since he migrated to the floor of his best friend’s bedroom, letting a confession get teased out of him like some beleaguered murder suspect (“Well, there might be someone I like…”), seeing the realization dawn in those big gray eyes as the someone was described in increasing detail. Ten hours since he grabbed a fistful of shirt and pressed a chaste, clumsy kiss to lips softer than his own. Ten hours since he muttered an expletive and grabbed his things, ready to bolt out the door, only for his friend to make him stop. Ten hours since…

“Ooh, loverboy!”

…Matt had created a monster.

It’s not like the streets were quiet that morning, but the greeting cut through the hubbub, nearly making him jump out of his hoodie.

Why would that voice be here, now? Matt knew Gus worked at the embassy every other weekend, but he always commuted on his little stick. He expected to have the day at least to sort through these feelings before they came face to face again.

Choking down his panic, Matt shot a glare over his shoulder… and was blinded by the brightest smile he had ever seen.

“I’m not answering to that.” It was easy to protest, despite the warmth blossoming in his chest. A routine as well-worn as his clothing.

Gus was undeterred, however, still beaming at him from a few paces behind. He clapped his cheeks in mock contrition, going, “Apologies! I thought you were my boyfriend Mattholomule, but I guess you must be some other disheveled, brooding hunk.”

Matt growled and yanked the drawstrings of his hoodie tight, trying to disappear inside it. “This was a mistake. I take it back.”

“Too late, Matty. The truth is out.” Gus was right behind him now, taking advantage of the few inches he had on his friend to drape arms over Matt’s shoulders, making him stumble off-balance. Gus’ voice went singsongy. “You liiiike me. Because I’m so handsome and amazing.”

Matt tried to shove him off, to no avail. “I never said that,” he was quick to correct, loosening the hood to better aim his accusing stare. “That’s slander, Augustus."

Still clinging, Gus tapped a finger to his cheek. “You’re right. I believe your exact words were ‘smart, funny, and talented.’”

His ears burned, shoulders bunching. “Yeah, so?” Matt regretted the brusque reply as soon as it slipped out, but it was too late. Gus untangled himself, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Everything alright?”

Matt heaved a sigh, rubbing his face. “Yeah. Sorry. It’s just… a lot, you know?”

An incredulous look. “Matt. You kissed me.”

“I know! I know.”

Gus could never hide his feelings. The hurt—the fear—was plain. “Do you regret it?”

He didn’t have to think about that one. “No!” After a beat, he repeated, softer, “No. I’ve just… never done this before.”

“This,” Gus echoed, and brushed the back of his hand against Matt’s. “So… are we, like, official now?”

Matt let himself drift closer, increasing the contact, wondering at how his stomach fluttered when this was nothing new. They touched every day: shoves and taps and leans. 

"I mean…" A smile ghosted his lips; he wanted to laugh in disbelief. "Yeah? I guess so.”

In contrast, Gus’ smile had returned, bright as ever. “So what’s our ship name gonna be?”

A flat stare. “Augustus…”

Gus feigned ignorance. “No, it has to include both our names, silly.” He rubbed his chin, considering the options. “‘Gustholomule’?” He shook his head. “Nah. Too clunky.”

Matt rolled his eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Gus said. “We’ll have a hashtag ready for our debut.”

Matt sidestepped with a grin and elbowed Gus (his boyfriend) in the ribs, delighting in the laugh as he batted him away. “You’re such a dork.”

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Inspired in part by duvetbox’s gustholomule animatic on tiktok!

#the owl house #gus porter #mattholomule #gustholomule #my writing