cravating | (no subject)

[Well, isn't this lovely. Good job, Nate. You ruined your own night out with your best friend because you just couldn't let things go unsaid. Fantastic. Looking into his barely touched beer, he pushes the glass away and quickly stands from his chair.]

I'm not doing this right now.

[He looks like he's just barely holding back some really intense emotion- either anger or sadness or just some mixture of both, hard to tell. Without another word, he heads for the back door of the place, heading for the alley.]

[ Matt just sits there for a second. He didn't expect that to happen. He has to replay the conversation to check if he can find something he did wrong. He'd thought he was doing well. Was it talking about that wanker Simon? He never wanted to talk about him anyway. But no, he can't find anything, which just makes it even more infuriating, because it's probably there. He probably did something. He just doesn't know what it is.

He could just let him go, and he thinks he probably should. This is too much of a fucking mess. It's a complete joke isn't it, to pretend their friends. It doesn't work, it isn't working, and he guesses that's what's getting to Nate so much.

If there's one thing he does know though, it's that he can't let it just sit there. So he grabs his beer and downs what's left in the glass before pushing himself up and heading out quickly, out to the alley, looking up and down and hoping he's still in sight. ]

Nate!

[Nat's not far, probably because he's turned around to come right back in about three times and chickened out each and ever one of them. So he's just down the alley, hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat, trying very hard not to let himself cry. Because god that would just be the thing to top it all off, wouldn't it?

What he doesn't expect to hear is Matt calling out his name. He slows his steps, not turning around, but coming to a stop. His eyes close briefly as he debates on what to say or do. He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know how to explain that he just wants things to be how they were, just wants to feel like Matt is actually part of his life, rather than just existing near it when it worked with his schedule.

So instead of saying anything, he just turns and faces the man he still considers his closest friend, a man he's been in love with since he first laid eyes on him, even after everything. But fuck if any of that matters now.]

[ Matt never deals well with emotion, it's sort of an accepted fact. He tends to use anger as a coping mechanism, and it's anger that comes to the fore now as he stops in front of him. He speaks, voice fuming and on edge. ]

What the fuck was that about? Is this what we're going to do now? Look I get it if you'd never want to see me again. After what I did well it'd make a fuckton of sense wouldn't it. But what the fuck is this? You said you wanted to catch up so catch the fuck up, don't be a pissy little bitch and walk off.

Never want to--? [He brings a hand up to wipe over his mouth, as he tries to hold back a tearful laugh.]

Matt, do you know how often I have to stop myself from texting you? Every fucking day. Because I honestly don't know how much you want to hear from me. So I just... don't. Until today. Figured it was a good enough excuse to talk about my show like we used to, right? But it's just not the same. It's like I can't touch you.

[Figuratively. He's also not sure about literally touching him. That might end badly.]

Are you kidding me? [ he almost laughs himself because that's really not what he expected. ]

Why wouldn't I want to hear from you? Do you think I hate you or something. Come on, you know I don't hate you. I mean I-- Fuck. [ he takes a breath, he can't make this even more complicated than it already is, he can't. He can't do emotion, and definitely not that one. At the same time though he can't help but remember the argument that had this whole mess starting in the first place. Nate calling him on his shit, and the tension just... leading places he didn't expect. ]

We're friends, right? Come on. I'm not keeping myself in some weird fucking bubble, I'm right here.

Yeah, right now you are. But you disappeared for a long fucking time, Matt. Not a word to me or anyone else on where you were. Now you're suddenly back and it's just all fine, is it?

[His voice gets a little thick from emotion.]

Yeah and who would want to speak to me after what I did? It was better that I just fucked off. And I didn't think you'd want to. I almost fucking killed you. I can still see you lying there and-- [ he shakes his head ]

So of course I went. I didn't deserve to fucking stay.

[Nate takes a few steps rushing forward, still leaving plenty of distance between them, but clearly he has a lot of feelings about this.]

That wasn't for you to decide. You left me to do all the explaining. Anyone that asked what happened, why you did it. And you know what I could tell them? Fuck all. Because what could I say?

[He wasn't going to tell them about what they had done before everything went to shit, about what had started the fight. He wasn't going to betray Matt's trust, even after being beaten within an inch of his life.]

You could have said whatever the hell you wanted! Why were you trying to protect me?! When you were the one in hospital! Stop it, Nate. Stop being this perfect fucking angel. Always doing everything for everyone else. Well fuck that, think about yourself for once. Just for fucking once.

I'm a prick, I'm a complete twat, and you miss me. Fuck Nate what's wrong with you?

[ He doesn't mean that to sound so harsh or to sound like that. Really, he's not sure what he means. Fucking emotion. ]

Think about myself? [He repeats, stepping forward again, this time slower, but clearly closing the distance between them.] You want me to- [He lets out a sound that's almost a laugh, standing right in front of Matt now.]

How's this for thinking for myself? [Without any further warning, Nate reaches up with both hands to hold on to Matt's face, drawing him closer and kissing him firmly on the mouth.]

[ It's one of those arguments that goes round in circles, and he has a feeling it's going to keep doing that. His feeling, of course, is clearly wrong, because then Nate is fucking kissing him and his heart is pounding. He feels sick and he doesn't know what that is, or how to put any of it in order. Fuck but it feels good, and it shouldn't.

He wants it though, as soon as he's there with those soft fucking lips and the way he smells of soap and whatever that shit is he uses, he knows it. And it terrifies him. So he stiffens, and he snaps, lifting a hand up to Nate's chest and pushing him back sharply, turning and knocking him back against the back wall of the pub. ]

What the fuck are you doing? [ his voice is breathy, threaded, and the way he looks at him, well it's somewhere lost between anger and lust. ]

Something that I can't get out of my head. Thinking about myself, remember? [He wipes some of the rain from his face, his fingertips lingering on his lips as if he can still feel Matt's pressed there still.]

Why've you got to do this? [ he shoves at him a little. Why can't it just be easy? Why can't he just pretend that none of this exists and they can just be mates? He's terrified of it, so much so he feels like his skin is on fire. This isn't what he should be doing. He shouldn't want another man. He just shouldn't.

But he does. He wants him. He really fucking wants him. And-- fuck it, just fuck it. He shoves him again, but this time he moves forward and kisses him again, pressing him back against the wall, a hand still on his shoulder as his lips press hard against his. ]

[The little shoves don't bother him, don't scare him. He's seen Matt angry and this isn't it. It's something else. He doesn't bother trying to answer that question because the only one he's got is being in love with him and that's not going to go over well.

But he doesn't need to try to answer. Not when he's being pushed against the wall and Matt's kissing him.

Wait- Matt's kissing him. His eyes widen for a moment, but he's not about to question it. Not even for a fucking second. Instead, he reaches to grab a fistful of that stupid tshirt of his, holding on as he kisses him back for all he's worth.]

[ They're kissing, this is actually a thing that's happening. Matt would be terrified about it if he gave himself chance to be, but he doesn't, because this is complicated enough as it is. And he wants this, oh he really wants this.

His hand lifts and threads into that stupid mop of curls of his, all wet from the rain as his grip holds tight. He doesn't know what to do with it, with any of this. It's not like it's in his comfort zone. He doesn't know whether he should just shove his hand down Nate's trousers and grab his cock right there.

Really, what the fuck is he supposed to do? Apart from hiss him, because he definitely keeps kissing him, lips a little parted and teeth scraping. And then he stops, and takes a breath, shoving him once more against the wall. Only this time his forehead moves forward and rests against his as his chest rises and falls, trying to catch up. ]

Fuck you.

[Every second that passes feels like it stretches into eternity. This is all he's wanted for a long time. He doesn't want to think about what happens next, because most of the options aren't good. Most of them involve Matt freaking out and never speaking to him again...or worse. But right now this feels good, better than that.

It feels like where they belong.

As Matt breaks away, Nate can't form a single word. He feels Matt's forehead pressed to his, their panting breaths mingling as the rain slips around both of their faces.]

Shut up.

[ He's not sure what freaks him out the most; the fact that this just happened, or the fact that because it did he knows he might be liable to run the fuck off. He doesn't want to run off, he missed him, he wants to kiss him and to do things he shouldn't even be thinking about. He can feel it bristling under his skin, something that might make him flip and use it as an excuse. But he can't let it, he can't be that guy.

So he's honest. He tries that. Does his best, at least. ]

I'm petrified. [ Of all of this, of wanting him, and maybe even more than that? Of admitting it. ]

[Matt hasn't moved away, which is a miracle all in itself. He's not going to question it too much, or wonder what's changed. His fingers shift and flex, holding on to Matt's shirt as it gets dampened by the rain. He glances down, distracted by the sight of his mouth, but telling himself to focus.

Those words cut right to his heart. Scared? Matt? He would have never guessed. His expression softens, mouth curving up into a small smile.]

It's alright. I've got you, yeah?

[ Matt's hand is shaking, literally shaking. This is one of the most terrifying moments of his life. He feels like it's important, and he feels even more like he's about to fuck it all up. He's really good at that, after all. Amazing at taking something good and tearing it to shreds.

He can already hear it now, the people saying how he's coming in and ruining Nate's life. He has a good thing going, a good boyfriend with a good career who wants to provide for him. And what's he? A bit of a waster that put him in hospital and can't even handle his own identity. ]

Why did you have to do that? [ He sighs. If he didn't then he could have kept on pretending, he could have acted like he didn't want him like he does. He had been doing a great job at faking it, hadn't he? He shoves his hand against him again.]

You're a prick, you know that? Why did you have to do that? [ Is that rain on his face, or something else? ]

[This reaction from Matt is new and strange. It's not...bad, but Nate's not entirely sure what it means. All he knows is that it feels right, holding onto him, back pressed against the wall of the bar, still so close that he could feel those lips again if he just moved a little...

No, the talking is good. They need to do more talking. It's good for Matt, good for both of them to talk about what this is.]

Because... [God, is he really going to make him say it? Isn't it obvious?]

Because I love you, you wanker. Been in love with you for ages.

[ It doesn't really help. He knows it, he's known it for a long time. It clutches at his heart and twists him up inside. He should have stopped, after he did what he did. He never should have loved him in the first place, he doesn't deserve it. But there he is, and it would be so easy to take advantage of it. Of him. So easy. And then leave him in pieces all over again. At least the bruises he could recover from. ]

I know. You're a fucking idiot, Nate. I know you do.

[ He shakes his head. It doesn't help him know what to do, what's right or even what he really wants. Well, no, he knows what he wants, he's just scared of it. He should tell him how he feels. He should but it's like he can't, like there's a physical block in his throat that stops him, that holds him back from the obvious truth. ]

This isn't why I came here.

Edited 2015-11-16 13:41 (UTC)

[He knows. Well, that's good at least. Good to know Matt's not completely obtuse about it. Sure, there had been teasing about it, but it was always hard to tell just how much of the joking was at least a little serious. Nate lets out a quiet laugh, barely more than a puff of air escaping his lungs.]

Why did you come here, then? [He's not letting go, not giving him much of a chance to move too far away. He's pretty sure if Matt gets space between them, he'll snap back to his old ways. Just stay here, he thinks as hard as he can, stay here with me.]

To see you!! [ His response is frustrated and hurried, but he's not backing up, not yet anyway, still staying in that little bubble that lets this keep on existing. It'll burst, he knows, but he's not ready for that just yet, and if he moved away now he's not sure what he'd do. ]

Because I--- I fucking miss you, don't I. You and your lining up the toothbrushes and reorganising the mugs. And just you, Nate. I just wanted to see you.

[ He scoffs out a half laugh and shakes his head. ] You know how fucking glad I was when you text me?

[The way he talks draws a smile out of him, remembering all the memories they had together. The good ones, not the rest that he tries not to think about.]

It's not my fault you don't know how the dishes are meant to be arranged. [There's a teasing glint in his eyes, the words said quietly, meant only for him.]

I was so scared, sending that. Didn't know what you would say, if you would say anything.