Matt x Chris Sturniolo One Shots - Multifandom_fangirl (2024)

Chapter 1: I showed you mine

Chapter Text

Matt's p.o.v

I should've been expecting him, I really should've. Every night for weeks, Chris has been sneaking down the hallway into my room to sleep in my bed. It's not that he's ashamed or wants it to be kept a secret, but there's something deeply horrifying about your family's concern for your mental well-being. No one likes to be questioned about their mental health, and right now, I feel like I'm the anchor keeping him tethered to the ground. Tethered to himself. It started with a nightmare that he didn't want to face alone, but it's gotten to the point where he cannot sleep without someone pressed up against him. So, yeah. I should've known that my door would open to reveal an exhausted Chris in his pajamas. But I didn't, so here I am, dick in hand, in the middle of doing something that no one wants their brother catching them doing.

"Jesus f*ck, Chris", I yank the blankets over myself and shove my dick into my pants, a deep blush coating my cheeks, the heat traveling to my ears and making its way down my neck. "You couldn't knock"?

"I didn't know if you were asleep or not". His eyes don't shift from my hands which are slightly covering the now-covered portion of my lower half in an attempt to hide the bulge. "I didn't wanna wake you up".

"You wake me up either way", I mutter. Chris isn't subtle about what he needs from me. When he gets into bed, he's pulling me into him hard enough to stir me out of even the deepest of sleep.

"Sorry". He closes the door behind him and presses his back up against it, finally averting his gaze.

"What are you doing"?

"I figured you had to you know. Get pants on, or finish up, or whatever".

"I'm not naked, asshole. And no, I'm not gonna 'finish up'. The moments over".

He shrugs, sauntering over to the bed, and sits down, plugging his phone into the spare charger I keep for him. "So, no p*rn or anything"?

"Could we not talk about it"?

"I'm just saying", he laughs, pulling the blanket over himself and laying down next to me, our arms brushing slightly. "Not even a picture"?

"I don't really need it, I guess. And, I'm planning on not having early erectile dysfunction".

"You're already worrying about that"? He glances over at me, the blush still heavily coating my cheeks, but slowly calming itself down due to how casually Chris is talking about it.

"Well, it's a real thing, so yeah I am".

"From p*rn"?

"Look it up. If someone watches p*rn heavily, their perception of sex changes and they don't find regular partners and sex as attractive leading to not being able to stay interested and hard. That or they just need the really freaky stuff and vanilla doesn't do it for them".

"I feel like that happens only if they watch it, like, constantly. Every once in a while wouldn't do that. I feel like that's like saying that if someone masturbat*s all the time, then sex won't be as good because they know how to please themselves better".

"I mean that can happen to women if they use toys that men can't compare to".

"Why the f*ck are you studying up on this"?

"Why the f*ck are we still talking about it"?

He goes quiet and nods as if saying 'fair enough'. I adjust myself under the blanket, still hard despite the circ*mstances and Chris eyes me but says nothing. That is until I readjust and slightly arch my back pushing my ass down into the mattress to ease the uncomfortable feeling in my pants. "Just finish, would ya"?

"Absolutely f*cking not". The room is dimly lit, only by the street lamp outside my window and the Christmas lights wrapped around the trees in our front yard. We helped put them up early this year, having got out decorations on the first of November.

"It's not like I haven't seen you naked before". The statement's true, at least, albeit a little weird. I never found it strange or wrong to spare a glance or two when Chris or Nick stepped out of the shower while I was brushing my teeth, or taking a quick peek when we're at the urinals. I mean we look the same and basically have the same body, what's the harm? "I won't look".

I roll my eyes and scratch my neck. I hate to even admit to considering it, but if he doesn't mind sleeping in a bed that I've masturbat*d in a thousand times, I shouldn't mind just rubbing it out real quick beside him. "Shut up". I elbow him in the side making him chuckle yet again.

"It's not like I haven't heard you masturbat* before either".

My jaw drops in disbelief, the blush fighting its way back onto my face. "What"?

"Oh c'mon, you think with years of sharing a room, I've never been awake while you did it. You're lying to yourself".

"Oh MY God. Why wouldn't you say anything"?

"Why the f*ck would I? That'd be weirder than just pretending to be asleep".

"Fair enough".

It's quiet yet again. And I clear my throat to not only clear the tension but to possibly not be obvious that I let my hand slide under the waistband of my thin pajamas. I lift the knee closest to him to form a tent with the blanket to hide the movement of my hand sliding up and down my member.

"Finally", he laughs and I elbow him again, this time harder.

"f*ck you. See, that's it, not happening".

"Okay, I'm sorry, I'll stop".

"Nope".

"C'mon I'll do it with you so you won't be embarrassed".

"No". He shrugs, shifting up until his upper back is against the bed frame, and he lifts his hips to pull his pants slightly down his legs. "You better not be doing what I think you're doing".

"It helps me sleep", he jokes and I watch the blanket move with the rhythm of his hand, quick at first but begins to slow as he starts growing hard. He co*cks his head to the side, before motioning to my hands that are now lying idly on my stomach. "Your turn, bubs, otherwise I'm the weird one".

I hesitantly bring one hand under the covers, scared that this might be some sick joke that Chris is playing. That he's not actually getting off, just pretending to so that I make a fool of myself, but the thought quickly disappears as I make contact with my previously ignored dick and it kicks into the palm of my hand at the slightest touch. He smirks and I clear my throat for the second time trying to keep my composure. He nudges the blankets down to uncover his lap and I instinctively halt my movements, watching as he licks the palm of his hand to then lubricate his hard co*ck. His eyes flutter slightly before closing, his teeth capturing his bottom lip as he moves his hand up and down. I gulp quietly, an erotic thrill passing through my body at the sight. Is this wrong? To watch my brother like this, and worse, enjoying it. I match his rhythm with my own hand, still watching him work. One hand pushes his shirt up revealing his stomach and chest, his fingers rubbing his nipple, and raking his nails across his pale skin leaving thin red streaks in its wake.

"f*ck", he mutters to himself, a breathy voice that I've only ever heard when he got finished running. A voice that I never even dreamed to hear in this way. A bead of precum spills over his head and he catches it with his thumb before continuing his movements. He opens his eyes, half-lidded and dark with lust, and they lock on mine. He grabs my knee which is still up and shielding myself, and slowly pushes it down along with the blanket covering my lap. My dick twitches at the warmth of his hand. "I showed you mine, you show me yours".

I let out a shaky breath, and nervously wipe my nose with my trembling knuckle, before shuffling my pants down so they are hugging my thighs. He hums to himself, seemingly satisfied with my obedience. "Can I-" He pauses, just slightly motioning to my lower half. I don't respond, my head barely jerking in the motion of a nod. His hand is gentle, grabbing my member and slowly stroking up and down. He licks his lips again, watching his hand closely before meeting my gaze. One of my hands remains hovering over his wrist and I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin while the other squeezes my hoodie pulling it down enough for my collarbones to peak over the fabric. "sh*t, hold on let me get a better position". He seizes his movements and to my surprise, flips himself over me, a leg on either side of my hips and my hands reactively grab his thighs to stop him. Kind of like when he pins me when we wrestle. His dick is pressed flat against mine and a moan escapes my lips from the pressure.

"Oh f*ck, Chris". He gives me a toothy grin and rocks his hips just once to see my reaction. Sweat builds along my chest making my hoodie stick to my chest uncomfortably. His hands slide up my stomach pulling the sweatshirt up with him so it's bundled under my arms. His nimble fingers pull at my nipples as he rocks his hips again, another moan leaving my mouth. He grips my hips as a form of stability as he moves his own, our co*cks sliding against each other, the sound almost more obscene than everything we've done thus far.

I can feel a knot form in the pit of my stomach and I know I don't have much time before I'll be cumming. "f*ck, baby. So good". Whether he's talking to me or merely to himself doesn't matter, hearing the words come out of his mouth causes an explosion of cum to stripe against my chest, another louder moan falling from my lips. He thrusts a couple more times, before cumming himself, the white cream smearing across my sensitive, softening dick. His breathing is heavy, and I can feel his legs shaking from where he is still sitting on my lap. My own hands are trembling where they still rest on his thighs. "Can I kiss you"?

"Just once". I've never not kissed someone after they make me cum and I'm assuming that neither has he, but no matter how much we've done, it would be wrong to do it more than this one time. He leans down, his wet lips pressing against my own, chest against mine, skin touching where our shirts are lifted enough to allow it. His nipples are hard against my chest, and if I wasn't completely drained, the feeling alone would be enough to get me stiff. His tongue gently enters my mouth, sliding against mine getting the lingering taste of toothpaste from when he brushed his teeth hours before. Minty and clean. I breathe into his mouth unable to stifle the moans he's attempting to draw out of me, and he licks into it consuming every sound I make.

I pull back to get a decent breath, muttering a simple, "you're good at that", as I do so. He rolls off of me so that we are again side by side, regaining our composure.

"Okay, we're definitely doing that again".

I look over at him, sweat plastered to his forehead and I internally agree. Just this one time my ass. It's already too late to come back from that so we might as well get as much forbidden pleasure as we can from it. "I'm gonna clean up a little bit, you know where I keep my pajamas". I get up to head to the bathroom, grabbing a pair of basketball shorts on my way out.

"That's ok, I'll get some of mine".

"No, you won't". He raises an eyebrow in confusion. "You have to pass mom and dad's room to get to your room. I'm not letting you risk them seeing you like this. You look wrecked".

"I look sexy as f*ck".

I roll my eyes and head to the bathroom and as soon as I turn on the lights, I'm met with my reflection in the mirror. I thought Chris looked wrecked, but I look so much worse. Sweat drenching my hair and skin, lips puffy and red from biting them. Scratches cover my neck and chest from where I kept grabbing at the top of my hoodie to keep myself from erratically thrusting upwards. I use a wet rag to wipe all of the cum off of me before leaning down towards the sink to splash my face with cold water.

Chris is laying on top of the blankets when I reenter the room now dressed in my plaid pajama pants and one of our merch t-shirts. I crawl into bed beside him dressed in just my basketball shorts. "How are we gonna do this"?

He rolls over to face me, his nose mere centimeters from touching mine. "Well. I'm still gonna be coming in here every night. No one has noticed so far, so this shouldn't be any different. Everything else is gonna stay exactly the same. Just with this one extra thing. Finally living with you has some benefits".

I can't suppress the smile that grows and I look down to hide it. He leans forward kissing me again, softer this time, lips moist and the softness counteracting the bruise that will probably be left behind from my teeth.

"I know you said just once, but I couldn't help myself".

"I'm glad you couldn't".

Chapter 2: No matter What

Chapter Text

Matt X Chris

Matt's p.o.v

I've been scrolling through TikTok for over two hours now, unable to pull myself out of my bed, my legs sore from earlier today. I don't know why I agreed to start running in the mornings with Nick. 'It'll be so fun, and it's nice and cool in the morning'. I roll my eyes at the thought of him convincing me to get out of bed at eight o'clock. I don’t know why he even started. Something about a guy he saw at the gym and he wants to be able to run with him in the mornings. The sun has started setting earlier as winter approaches, the sky now being pitch black at six. There's frost fogging up the window behind my dark curtains that are barely pulled open enough to see through, and my blankets have never felt cozier as my room is cold and dimly lit. There's a soft knock at the door before it slowly opens and Chris's head pokes in.

"Hey".

"Hey".

"Can I come in"? His voice is soft and uncertain as if I'd ever tell him no. I motion him in with a swift nod and a bright smile crosses his face.

"What do you want"? I grin and without answering he immediately lifts up my blankets sliding into bed beside me. I don't make room for him, but rather wait for him to start shoving his knee into my side as a hint for me to move before scooting over. "You're so spoiled. Coming into my room and taking over my bed. Obviously the baby of the bunch".

"All this attitude", he laughs but rests his head on my shoulder to be able to see my phone screen. It's quiet for a moment, just stupid dance audios and our breathing filling the quiet space, his hand moving over my stomach to keep himself from falling off of the bed. "I miss when we shared a room".

I glance at him but his eyes stay locked on my phone. When the three of us shared a room, we only had two beds, one for Nick and the other for Chris and me to share. Nick always said he deserved it cause he was the oldest but in all honesty, I always liked sharing a bed with Chris. He was warm and soft and was always plastered against me as if his life depended on it. "Me too". His hand pushes harder against me, his nose barely skimming my cheek as he adjusts himself yet again. "Do you need more room"?

He shakes his head, his breath fanning over my chin and neck as he does so. "I'm good". His voice is even softer now, his leg looping over one of mine. That's one thing about Chris that I love. He's so touchy and constantly craves intimacy. He's one of the few people in my life that I feel comfortable enough to have in my space. He presses a kiss against my lower cheek, his lips almost landing against my jaw, and I can feel the hairs on my arms stand at the feeling, my stomach flipping just a little. He plants his lips against the spot yet again, and I turn my head to look at him, a shy smile across his face as his eyes meet mine. A grin that I can't help but return.

"What are you doing"? I keep my gaze fixated on his light blue eyes, his expression so calm and unreadable. He just shrugs and moves his face closer to mine. He pushes his nose against my chin to turn my head and kisses the spot under my ear so softly I could barely feel it. "What a tease". I attempt to make a joke to ease the tension, but my laugh comes out a little shaky.

"Do you want me to really kiss you"?

My heart skips a beat and I can't tell if he's playing along with the joke or if it's a genuine question. "W-what"?

"Do you want me to kiss you? Like a real one".

"We can't do that". I turn away and train my eyes on my phone, but the screen's gone dark from inactivity, and I can't will my fingers to turn it back on.

"Why not? Not in a weird way. Just to see". We're brothers. Any type of kiss would be in a weird way.

"I don't know".

We're quiet yet again. His cold fingers graze against my chin, turning me back towards him. "Just one"? His voice is low now, just above a whisper, his nose inching closer to mine. "Just to see". His lips press against mine, feather-light and hesitant for just a second before he's pressing into me, our lips ever so slightly separating to mold into each other. I haven't been this close to him in God knows how long. The last time we kissed was probably when we were four or five, and it wasn't like this. It was sweet and innocent. This feels- not wrong- but definitely not innocent.

He pulls away his eyes still closed, and I know I shouldn't but I can't help myself from turning myself towards him so that it will be easier for him to kiss me again. "Come on, you said a real kiss", I joke creeping towards him yet again.

"f*ck you". His fingers snake through the hair at the base of my neck making my breath hitch in my throat.

"Try again". I form the phrase like a dare in hopes that it doesn't come across like I'm asking him to kiss me again. As if I'm making fun of him instead of craving the warmth of his lips. Cause I can't want this. I can't like this.

He kisses me again, harder this time, less hesitant. He either saw right through me, or he wants this as much as I do. His lips are slightly chapped, reminding me of the coldness that's breathing through the thin glass of the window, yet they're warm like the heat and safety of the comforter we're sharing. He kisses like Christmas eve. Familiar and snug, leaving me with the anticipation of what comes next. The next morning. And that's all we'll have. Because we can't do this again, we can't acknowledge that it ever happened. All we have is now. So I give him my all, pushing my tongue through his lips into his mouth, tasting the sweetness of whatever sugary drink he had gotten with Nick earlier. I can feel his breathing deepen through his nose, the air brushing over my top lip reminding me to move and not be so absorbed in the moment that I am frozen in place. I turn my head, deepening the kiss if it is even possible, and take his bottom lip in between my teeth. I only pull away when his hand that is on my stomach snakes its way underneath my shirt, his icy fingers skimming over my ribs.

"sh*t", I mutter under my breath, my heart racing and my body hot bordering on a sweat.

"Real enough"?

"Dude, what the f*ck are we doing"?

His head lolls to the side, his cheeks a rosy red and I want to touch them to make sure he's feeling the same fire that I am. "What? No one's home".

"Oh, well that makes this okay", I deadpan. "That's not the f*cking issue"!

"Dude, c'mon. Relax, it's not a big deal".

I scoot backward until my back hits the wall, putting enough space between us where we are no longer touching. Oh, great, realization is finally setting in as well as probably the consequences of our actions. There's no coming back from something like this. Not when it's a situation this f*cked up. Chris is my brother.

"Matt, don't make this weird". There's only a slight tinge of pleading in his eyes, but not nearly as much as there should be. He looks more relaxed than anything and it's infuriating.

"What if mom finds out? Or Nick? Or God forbid Justin? This is so f*cked up, man". My hands begin to shake at the thought of this coming out. Being gay is one thing, but f*cking around with your twin brother is a whole other issue entirely. It's life-ruining. I can already see the disgusted and disapproving looks.

"How would they? I'm obviously not gonna say anything, and you aren't either. And so what? It was just a kiss. Siblings kiss all the time".

"Not like that they don't. That was a kiss kiss. Brothers don't do that".

"Okay, how do siblings kiss then? Like this"? He grabs the sides of my face and presses a chaste kiss to my lips. "Or maybe this"? An even softer kiss is placed at the corner of my mouth, a drip of sweat creeping down my spine as my nerves begin building up in my stomach. "Just anything but this"? His horribly perfect lips are opening against mine, his wet tongue back in my mouth before I can even react and I melt at the feeling, my hands dropping to grab a hold of anything to stabilize me, his arms, the sleeves of his sweater. I can feel his quickening pulse even underneath the fabric.

"f*ck, Chris", I find the strength to push him off of me earning a high-pitched laugh in return. "This isn't funny". Seeing the look on my face, he retreats, pulling his face away from mine and sitting up on his knees.

"Look, Matt. We're just messing around. People experiment and fool around all the time. It's really not that big of a deal". I rub my hands over my face, shaking my head in disbelief. I would agree with him if we weren't literally from the same womb. However, it makes sense that we'd experiment with each other. We know how the other works, we know that we won't make fun of each other while being so vulnerable. "I won't do it again". There's something in his eyes, close to hurt but not quite. Rejection maybe. I love him, more than anything, but I know better than to get involved in something that is so life altering.

"Is this not weird to you"? I can't keep my voice steady, not after that. Sure, Chris makes jokes about us kissing or making out all of the time, but actually doing it is completely different. I didn't even realize that there could be a hint of honesty ringing throughout his jokes. That every time he mentioned kissing me, he could have actually been wanting to.

"Was it weird to you"? He avoids my gaze now, staring down at his hands that are now fiddling with the hem of his sleeve.

I don't reply. There is no right answer here. If I say that it was, I risk hurting him and potentially losing a brother. If I'm completely honest and tell him that no, it wasn't weird at all, in fact, I kind of enjoyed it, then I'll be admitting to something that I'm not ready to commit to.

"What does it mean"?

"W-what"? He finally looks up at me and instinctively I glance down. There is absolutely no way that I can hear his answer while looking into his sad, scared eyes. I might lose whatever cool I'm managing and start crying.

"You kissing me. What does it mean"?

"I don't know what you want me to say. Maybe I'm bi, gay, whatever. Or maybe I just made a stupid impulsive decision. I don't know. All I know is that I wanted to kiss you, so I did". He exhales a shaky breath, and I see his bottom lip begin to slightly quiver. I've seen Chris embarrassed thousands of times, but I've never seen him quite like this. My heart sinks as a tear rolls down the bridge of his nose, dropping onto the blankets, and I can't help but feel responsible for it. I'm hurting him.

"Chris-", I start but he waves his hand in dismissal making me halt my words.

"I'm fine". He wipes his nose with the back of his hand, trying to seem nonchalant but his body is too stiff for it to be even a little bit believable. "I'm sorry, okay". He stands to his feet, and with each step he takes away from the bed, it feels like he's taking a little bit of my heart with him.

I grab his wrist, and his whole body tenses and the knots in my stomach seem to tense up with him. I stand so we are face to face, his eyes red with tears and his eyebrows scrunched in frustration. I rest my hand on the side of his neck and he lowers his head down until his face is resting in the crook of my arm. "I love you, Chris. No matter what". He keeps his face in my arm, not moving, barely breathing, seeming afraid that I'm going to push him away. "Let's try again".

"What". His voice is muffled against my skin, but the shock is still evident in his tone. He lifts his head, eyes finally connecting with mine.

"Can we please try again? I freaked out a little bit, I'll admit. I just- wasn't expecting this to happen. But, if we're just experimenting a little, what's the harm, right"? Maybe it's stupid of me, maybe it's wrong, but right now I would do absolutely anything to get rid of this gut-wrenching guilt that was born from making Chris cry.

He doesn't say anything, so I take the opportunity to lean forward, the tip of my nose catching the stray tears that coats his wet cheek. Our lips connect for the fifth time of the night, but it's different now. It feels like repentance, like acceptance. I don't believe in much, but I believe in Chris, and I know that we're gonna be okay. No matter what.

Chapter 3: No matter what - pt 2

Chapter Text

I honestly didn't expect things to get so awkward so fast. Chris and I kissed. That part is undeniable, but the worst part is that it seems impossible to interact with each other in front of people now. It's as if everybody knows about this dirty little secret. We can't get to close to each other without the fear that someone will know what we did last night.

While helping mom make dinner, our fingers skimmed while reaching for the same spoon, we both flinched away as if we touched a scalding pan. When we bumped into each other while I was leaving the bathroom, we tried to avoid the other's gaze as if people could read our minds. Nick has clearly noticed, his eyes training on us throughout every interaction or word spoken to each other, an eyebrow co*cked. I can't even begin to imagine how much he already knows.

I hate to admit it, but Nick, despite being only two minutes older than me, is definitely an older brother. Even as children, he was always capable of getting me and Chris to do whatever he wanted, and he always knew everything that me and Chris did, the good and the bad. It doesn't help that because we're triplets, he kind of has a sixth sense about us. He knows when we're lying, and he always knew when we figured out that we were the ones who needed to apologize after doing something sh*tty. However, he is also the type of person who waits for us to admit to it. He lets us scramble to keep up with our lies, he lets the guilt eat us up until we finally come to him and apologize. And that is when he would tell us that he had known the whole time, that he was waiting for us to admit it.

I always hated it. I thought he had grown out of doing that, but now I'm not so sure. I see the way he taps his fingers against the table in thought, as if he's trying to figure out what exactly we did.

"How'd you guys sleep last night". Mom's question is innocent enough, but I can't help but clear my throat awkwardly in hopes that she isn't expecting an answer.

"Fine", Chris mumbles, scraping his uneaten dinner in circles around his plate.

"I had trouble falling asleep", Nick shrugs his shoulders and taps the prongs of his fork against his bottom lip.

"Matt"? I glance up at dad who wipes the corner of his mouth with his napkin before setting it back onto the table. "What about you"?

"Fine".

"Lucky for you guys, then. The neighbors were up until one in the morning screaming at each other. Kept me up for hours". He shakes his head before cutting the chicken on his plate into pieces.

"Relax dad, they're gonna be divorced before you know it", Chris laughs quietly to himself.

"That's a horrible thing to say", mom shakes her head, despite dad chuckling at the comment.

"They've only been married for like a year, to". Nick raises his eyebrows slightly as if dissatisfied in their marriage.

"The first year is always the hardest", mom sighs, seeing as the rest of us aren't going to move on from the conversation.

"Why? Shouldn't it be the easiest? I mean, that early on, they should still love each other". I feel sick to my stomach with the anxiety built up from the looks received from Nick so I push my plate away from me in hopes that it looks like I'm just to immersed in the conversation to eat.

"It's not about loving each other. It's about finding your footing. Your foundation as a married couple, especially if you haven't lived with each other prior to the wedding".

"That makes sense", Nick nods his head in agreement. "Plus, if they were still living with their parents before getting married then there's the added stress of moving and the bills".

"I'm gonna go to bed early, I'm not feeling great", I grab my plate and head to the kitchen trying my best to ignore the eyes following my movement.

I scrape my uneaten food into the trash and let out a shaky breath.

"What's going on with you"? I flinch at Nick's voice behind me and turn around to see his arms crossed over his chest, a small smirk on his face.

"Jesus", I groan rubbing the space in between my eyebrows in attempt to relieve the tension there. "Nothing. I'm just not feeling good".

"Right. Ok". He turns around and shakes his head at the obvious lie.

Mother of God, he already knows. He has to know. f*ck.

I practically sprint to my room, my door not slamming behind me as I thought it would, but it instead is pushed back open.

"Dude, what the f*ck was that"? Chris hisses.

"Why did you follow me? How do you think that looks"?

"You need to relax, okay? Nobody knows". He grabs both of my shoulders and gives me a slight shake that he most likely thinks is comforting, but it really just feels like he's trying to shake some sense into me.

"Nick most definitely does".

"How would he know? All he knows is that we're acting weird. That's it. He could never guess the reason". His eyes are softer now, his thumb rubbing circles across my collar bone. "We're fine". I exhale deeply trying to shake my nerves. "We're fine", he repeats, his nose skimming mine as he draws his face closer to me. His breath fans over my cheek, and I close my eyes to savor the wave of calmness his close proximity gives me. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling my body against his.

His lips are on mine before I know it, soft and merciful, reviving the faith I had in him the night before.

He pulls away enough to where just our foreheads are pressed together. “Please, just relax”.

“I’m fine. I’m cool”. My voice wavers as I speak and not even I believe the words coming from my mouth.

“Nick doesn’t know. Nobody knows”. He seems to breathe a stillness into my bones, and I’m realizing now that he always has. He can calm my shaking fingers with a simple touch, and can relax the tense muscles underneath my skin.

He’s the clouds in the blistering heat, giving shelter to even the most exposed. He’s the sun in the coldest of winter, giving warmth to every scope of the earth.

His fingers push my hair out of my eyes so that I can see him clearly. “You good”?

“I’m good”.

I am, and I always will be at peace as long as Chris is close. As long as he is near.

Chapter 4: Three times they didn’t kiss and one time they did

Chapter Text

Matt's p.o.v

- one -

I can feel the cold kitchen tile even through the thick fabric of my sweatpants, knees pulled tightly against my chest, my chin resting on them lazily. I don't know what time it is and I really couldn't care less. The rest of the house has been asleep for hours now, the quiet pitter-patter of rain on the windows the only sound throughout the calm house. Two empty cans of red bull lay haphazardly at my feet, and it's times like this I regret not just taking half a bottle of sleeping medication, rather than just trying to push through till morning. The most silent parts of the night are hell to get through, and there's no reward for staying awake. My fingers tap nervously against my knee, my eyes trained on the cabinets in front of me.

"Matt"?

I flinch at the voice, glancing up to see Chris, hair sticking up in all directions, and his shirt hanging loosely over one of his shoulders. He most likely had woken up sweating and took it off considering mom goes crazy with the upstairs heater as soon as the temperature drops below fifty degrees.

"It's three in the morning, what are you doing"? His eyes hold concern as he slowly takes a seat beside me, back against the island.

"Couldn't sleep, that's all". My fingers haven't stopped twitching in God knows how long and I don't know if I've overdone it with the caffeine or if my nerves were getting the best of me.

His hand reaches towards mine, but stops and changes directory last minute, grabbing one of the empty cans instead. "I wonder why".

"It's raining".

He turns to the kitchen window, the curtains barely pulled open enough to see through. "It's nice". I don't say anything, merely nodding my head in response. "C'mon, let's go to bed".

I let my eyes fall closed, breathing deeply through my nose in hopes to calm myself down. "Can we just stay down here for a little bit. It's quieter". There's too much noise upstairs. I can hear Nick's white sound machine, dad's snoring, the hum of my computer, my ceiling fan. It all just feels like too much. But, down here, on the cold kitchen floor, is the quiet rain and the low buzz of the refrigerator.

"Yeah, buddy. We can do that". He rests his head on my shoulder, one arm looping around mine, body pressed firmly against me, but it doesn't feel suffocating as I would expect. More like the weight of a thick blanket, or a cat curled up on your stomach. A comforting heaviness that manages to relieve some of the pressure in my bones.

"What are you doing up"? I can feel my eyes becoming glassy with sleep and the start of a couple of tears. Why the f*ck am I crying? I can't keep track of my emotions right now, there being too many to cope with.

"It's like a billion degrees upstairs. I've sweat out every ounce of water in my body, so I was gonna.. replenish". He pauses, catching a glimpse of my tear-stained cheeks, but I can tell from the way he hugs me a little closer, that he isn't going to mention it. It's not the first time he's found me somewhere like this. I have highs and lows, and right now I feel as if I'm in a pit. I don't know whether or not I should be embarrassed every time Nick or Chris has seen me like this. They get gentle and soft, and I feel like glass on the verge of breaking. But, my mind is moving too fast to register how embarrassing it actually is. Instead, I take what I can from the bitter-sweetness of their embraces, and pray the lows pass quickly and quietly.

We sit like that for a while longer, the top of his head in the crook of my neck, his fingers interlaced with mine, thumb rubbing gentle circles into my skin, until I'm ready to go back upstairs. His hand still in mine, we walk to his room, the digital clock on his nightstand blinking five forty-three. For two and a half hours he sat with me in silence.

"Chris-". I can't speak without the fear of the floodgates reopening and the tears falling yet again.

He gives a soft, tired smile, seeming to be able to read the thoughts circling my mind. I want to tell him how much he means to me, how much he's helped me, but I can't form the words. I just pray that he can feel it. Pray that he can see it through every hug, every grin, every moment between us.

"C'mon". He pulls me towards the bed where he is lifting the blankets enough for me to climb under. "I turned on the A.C. We're gonna say Nick did it, 'kay"? I face the ceiling still not breaking my apparent vow of silence. He climbs into bed beside me, eyes locked onto the side of my face, one hand running aimlessly through my hair, and the other sliding underneath my shoulders to continue holding me. I finally turn to face him, another tear rolling down the bridge of my nose, and I can't do anything but press my forehead against his, hoping the theories about twin telepathy are true.

"I love you too, Matt".

- two -

We don't go to the beach very often despite living so close, but it was a beautiful clear day and honestly, we didn't have anything better to do. I was still hesitant on coming, but after complaining to mom for the fifth time about being bored, she kicked me out of the house. In her own words, 'if you're going stir-crazy inside, then go OUTSIDE'. The water is way too cold to comfortably swim in, so instead, Nick, Chris, and I lay side by side on the beach, close enough to the ocean that every time a wave crashes onto the shore, I can feel mists of water sprinkle my legs.

"Can you help me put on sunscreen"? Nick holds up the bright blue bottle to Chris, already having white streaks of sunscreen on his nose and cheeks.

"Lame, scared of a little sun", is Chris's oh-so-clever response. "We have an umbrella".

"Yes, I know we have an umbrella, but I'm not gonna be wrinkly and leathery when I'm thirty. I refuse". Nick shoves the sunscreen into Chris's chest, and Chris retaliates by knocking the bottle out of his hands.

"Just do it yourself".

"You think I can reach the entirety of my back and get decent coverage? Outrageous. Help me or I'm not helping your pale ass put any on".

"I don't need any, 'cause I'm under a f*cking umbrella. Do it yourself".

"Oh my f*cking God, give me the sunscreen", I snap, setting my phone down on my towel and reaching out to a now smug-looking Nick. Chris rolls his eyes as I pop the lid open and begin covering Nick's back. "You're getting sunscreen too".

"C'mon, really", Chris pouts, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

"Yes, and I don't care if you hate sunscreen getting in your eyes, I will dump the entire bottle directly into your eyes if you put up a fight".

"Thank you, Matt", Nick grins at me as I finish rubbing in his sunscreen. "A healthy fear of the sun keeps you from getting skin cancer".

"I don't know about all that", I mumble, motioning to Chris who slowly leans up from the laying position he was in and hesitantly shuffles towards me.

"I'm getting a soda, do you want anything"? Nick stands and brushes as much sand off of his swimsuit as he could.

"Pepsi"?

"Oh, me too, please".

"Of course, Matt. Chris, you can get one yourself", Nick gives Chris a sarcastic smile before turning on his heel and walking toward the little store on the edge of the beach.

"Get me a f*cking Pepsi, you bitch"! Chris yells at Nick, throwing sand as he does so.

"Dude, there's kids everywhere", I laugh and he sits down with his back facing me. "What, you don't want your face done first"?

"Absolutely not".

I shrug, but lather a decent amount onto my hands. His skin is warm from the hot sand despite it only being around eighty degrees outside, and I can feel small grains of it between my hands and his back. I coat his skin, covering down to the waistband of his swimsuit and he flinches as the cold sunscreen hits his lower back, his muscles flexing as he does so.

His skin is pale from the constant sweatshirts and our overall lighter completion, a couple of moles and freckles sprinkled across his shoulder blades, dancing down his spine. I avert my gaze, not wanting to be caught staring and mumble for him to turn around.

I obviously won't deny that Chris is attractive. I've found myself watching the way he moves, the way he smiles, all while writing it off as being comfortable with my masculinity and my sexuality. Being able to admit when someone is appealing to look at. However, over time it has come to a point where I have to question whether or not I've taken it to far. When I notice there is a difference between the way I used to look at him versus how I look at him now. It's come to a point where I want to look at him. I want him to catch my eye and question the intentions of my stare.

He turns to face me, his knees bumping into my own at the close proximity, eyes watching as my hands fiddle with the sunscreen bottle to get more onto the tips of my fingers. I dot his cheeks and his forehead with sunscreen along with the tip of his nose. I wipe my hands on to my chest to rid my hands of the remaining oil.

"What? Not gonna rub it in"? He smirks at me and I glance from his lips to his eyes looking for any hint of a smile to see if he’s joking.

"I.. Can". I hesitate for a moment before allowing my fingers to smooth the sunscreen across his cheeks, thumbs skimming against his jaw. I can feel his breath against my wrist as he turns his face towards my hand, his nose against my palm. This feels all to intimate. Far to close for brothers to be.

“Alright, two Pepsis”, Nick exclaims plopping down onto his beach towel beside us. I jerk my hand away from Chris instinctively and turn to face the calm water.

“Thanks Nick”. He couldn’t have interrupted at a worse time really. Im sure the disappointment was clear in my voice, but it’s impossible to hide. It’s enough disappointment to last the rest of my life.

- three -

The weather has been kind of everywhere lately. Warm one day, and freezing the next. It happens that today is one of the colder days as well as the day Chris and I both leave our keys locked inside the house.

“That’s wonderful”. Chris tries to open the front door for the third time, and once again checks the pockets on his pants as if his house key would magically appear. “You don’t have yours”?

“If I’m not the one driving, I forget to grab them”. I exhale a shaky breath, goosebumps forming on my skin. “Call somebody”.

“I already texted Nick. He’s on his way back, but it’s gonna be like half an hour”.

“That’s just splendid”. I press my forehead against the glass door. I just know that’s it’s nice and warm inside, the heat turned on to the max setting.

Chris sits down on the porch, back against the cold bricks, clouds forming from his breath with every exhale. I sit down next to him, my arm pressing against his, however due to the cold, the roughness of my jacket seems a lot sharper than it normally would as it scratches across my skin. I sniffle and bring my knees to my chest. It’s not to cold now, but it’s gonna start to feel a lot worse over the next thirty minutes.

“My phones about to die”. He tosses it on the ground in front of us, shaking his head at it in disapproval.

“I told you to bring your charger before we left”. I pick at my cuticles absentmindedly. A habit I’ve been meaning to break, but at least I’m not biting my nails. A win is a win.

“You couldn’t have told me to bring my keys”?

“Well apparently you wouldn’t have listened”.

He lets out a breathless laugh before resting his head on my shoulder, nuzzling his nose into the crook of my neck. “You need to stop doing that”.

I glance down to see that he’s watching my hands continuously pull at the inflamed skin around my nails. “Yeah, I know”. How could I not. How could I not be anxious when he’s so close to me, taking the breath from my lungs and the warmth from my skin.

His hand is grabbing mine in a flash, cold against my own, yet softer. His fingers gently run across the torn skin that’s on the verge of bleeding.

We sit in silence for a moment and I could easily break it by pulling out my phone, but the decision is easy really. Pull out my phone or continue to let Chris coddle my irritated fingers. I don’t pull away. I let him get closer to me, where our breath is coinciding into one, and I suddenly don’t feel so cold.

- the one time they did -

Christmas is definitely in the air, shimmering lights on every house, the warm smell of pine and seasonal candles in every store. It’s my favorite time of year. Everything seems calmer and quieter. Before the last minute Christmas shopping starts, but right after all of the sales end so there is no hustle to get into stores. There’s no crowd on every corner or traffic for miles. People are home with their families, and outside is just quiet, the powdery snow acting as noise canceling headphones, muffling all of the noise.

“Wanna come with me”? Chris walks into the living room where I sit watching the snowfall from the comfort of the couch.

“Where”?

“Just to walk around the neighborhood to look at the lights”.

I ponder for a moment, questioning whether or not it’s worth putting on layers of clothing. It is. I know it is because it’s going to give me the perfect opportunity to finally come clean. I’ve been wanting to talk to him for months now about whatever it is that I’m feeling towards him. It’s been eating me alive to the point where it’s hard for me to be alone around him. We tell each other everything. And I know that he can tell that there is something wrong. There’s no way that he couldn’t.

So I put on layers of clothing and double up on socks and make sure that I’m going to be warm enough to stay outside for hours. Because I’m not gonna come back inside without telling him. I’m not gonna come back into a house where I have to keep lying to him.

The snow crunches beneath our shoes, snowflakes falling onto the our hats, but despite the biting cold, sweat is creeping down my back. My fingers twitch nervously as I try to come up with anything to break the silence. Chris seems unbothered, swinging his arms with every step, and looking up into the sky, snowflakes catching onto his long eyelashes.

Our arms brush against each other, but due to our coats it feels that he’s not close enough. I want him closer to me.

“What did you ask for for Christmas”? He doesn’t look at me, but instead swipes snow off of the windshields of every car we pass.

“What, from Santa or from mom and dad”? I laugh awkwardly despite actually having a different answer to both. “New headphones and some hoodies”. And for a certain someone to feel the same way about me that I feel for them. I feel like a child. Like I’m wishing upon a star that isn’t there. A star that doesn’t care.

“Wow”. I glance at Chris who has stopped dead in his tracks, staring at one of the bigger houses in the neighborhood. They’ve gone all out. Lights covering every square inch of their house from the roof down to their porch. Large inflatables covering their yard. But it doesn’t seem as bright as the light dancing in Chris’s eyes. The green and blue gleaming across his rosy cheeks, reddening due to the cold. “How much do you think all that cost”?

“They’ve probably built it up for years”. I don’t look at the house. Not once. I don’t want to miss a second of seeing the amazed look in Chris’s eyes. I wish he’d look at me like that. Like I was the most beautiful thing in the world. I inhale deeply trying to build up the nerve to say it. To say anything even close to what I want to say. “I love you”.

He finally looks back at me, turning so his body is facing mine. “I love you to”. His smile is to casual to have understood the way I meant it.

“And. I like you”.

His smile falters for just a second as he tries to process what I’m saying, before it’s back competently, but it’s different. It’s sadder. “I had a feeling”.

“You did”?

He cups the side of my face, and just from the look in his eye, the downward twinge of his smile, I know he doesn’t feel the same. “It’s okay”.

I wish he wasn’t okay with it. Because it’s not okay. I wish he would be disgusted or angry. Anything would be easier than this. At least that way I would be able to move on. But he’s to nice. He’s to sweet. I nod my head, and look down trying to fight back the tears and my throat burns from choking back the start of crying. His fingers rests under my chin, lifting so that I look him in the eye. “I’m sorry”.

He slowly leans into me, cold lips pressing against mine in the sweetest of ways, but also the worst way in that I know it won’t happen again. A fleeting moment that I’ll have to savor for the rest of my life. He pulls away to soon, arms wrapping around me in a hug. “I’m sorry”.

Chapter 5: No Matter What - Final Part

Chapter Text

Nick's p.o.v

I didn't know. I really didn't. Were there some signs that I could have acknowledged earlier? Maybe. But it's not my fault. How was I to know that Chris was into Matt? Who would just assume that? I suppose I should've. It took Chris telling me straight to my face for me to even believe it. Well, not so much telling me as showing me. And it wasn't really ME he meant to be telling.

I should've known from their nervous smiles when I'd joke that they might be a little to close, or from the way they would blush when receiving compliments from one another. Or even when they f*cking kissed in the kitchen. I believed them when they played it off as an accident and, who knows, maybe that time it was. All I know for sure is Chris definitely meant to do what he did when he showed me just how much he liked Matt.

-the night before-

My phone buzzes loudly on my bedside table, seemingly vibrating hard enough to cause ripples in the cup of water that has been sitting by my bed for over a week. "Jesus f*ck! It's one in the morning", I grumble loudly having just gotten comfortable in bed. Chris's notification floats on my screen as it vibrates again. If I was just a little more tired or my phone was just a little brighter I probably would've ignored the call.

"Hello", I mumble into the phone and I can hear rustling around before Chris's voice is practically screaming in my ear.

"Matty, can you come pick me up"?

"It's Nick", I correct him rubbing my eyes with a balled fist.

"No, this is Chris", his voice is slurred and louder than I've heard him be since the latest car video.

"I know who you are, dumbass, I'm saying you called me. Nick".

"I didn't call you Nick. I called you Matt".

My patience is running thin at this point, and I shake my head to keep myself from just hanging up on him. He's clearly drunk, and he needs a ride home. Don't be a jackass, make sure he's safe. "Where are you"?

"Nathan's. I drank a little too much. Pick me up, please". His voice is a little smoother now but still very slurred.

At least I know Nathan. He's a good friend and doesn't hang around anyone too bad or dangerous. "Ok, he lives like half an hour away. Don't move, I'm coming".

"Thanks, Matty".

"Nick". I correct him yet again.

"I'm Chris". This time I do hang up on him, lugging myself out of bed and trying to wake myself up enough to drive. Maybe I should just wake Matt up and make this his problem. I probably would if I trusted him to not fall asleep at the wheel.

I slip on a pair of baggy jeans, and slowly creep downstairs, avoiding the certain stairs that creak louder than others. It's not like our parents don't trust us and we have to sneak out. I just don't want them to stay up waiting for us to get back, because I know that they would. I grab the car keys off of the kitchen table and lock the door behind me.

The drive is long and quiet. I should've connected my phone to the car, but it doesn't really seem worth it right now. I honestly need the quiet, especially since I know that Chris isn't gonna shut the f*ck up the entire ride back. I eventually see the lights around Nathan's driveway come into view, bright enough to light the entire yard. Airplanes could use these f*cking lights to land.

Chris stumbles out of the house and immediately opens the door crawling into the passenger seat. His bloodshot eyes are almost fully closed as he must be in the tired phase of drinking.

"Why hello beautiful", I chuckle sarcastically and he just holds a middle finger to my face in return.

"Thanks for picking me up, Matt".

I roll my eyes, not wanting to try to correct him again. That would probably make me want to hit him. "No problem". His head lolls to the side, eyes heavily lidded, however, his hand snakes its way to grab my knee. "Aw, am I a passenger princess- wait no- that's your drunk ass". I push his hand off my leg, reaching over him to buckle him up before backing out of the driveway, starting our way back home.

"I didn't mean to drink so much. I just got nervous". I glance over at him and he's got a small grin on his face. Clearly, the alcohol shook whatever nerves he was feeling.

"Nervous about what"?

"I was. You know-". His hand finds its way back onto my knee, his thumb rubbing circles against my thigh, and I'm so glad I decided to wear jeans instead of shorts.

"You were what"?

"I was gonna tell you something". He hiccups quietly in his seat, his hand not faltering once aside from moving slowly upward making me clench my hands tighter around the steering wheel.

"Tell me what"?

Rather than answering as any sane person would do, his hand cups me through my jeans causing me to jerk my knee upwards to get his hand away from my dick without crashing the f*cking car. I break harder than I intend to despite actively trying not to slam them through the car floor, and pull over to the side of the road.

It's silent for a moment, Chris looking out the window into the road as if he is thinking that I swerved to miss an animal and not because he just manhandled me. "Um. What the f*ck was that, Chris"?

"That's what I wanted to tell you".

"I-". I know he is probably making sense in his drunken mind, but I just can't understand what he's saying. Did he lose his virginity at the party? Did someone grab him? I mean, what the f*ck. "Care to... elaborate"?

He turns to face me, one hand moving to tightly grip the collar of my shirt while the other gently strokes the skin underneath my ear. "I like you, Matt. Like, a lot". I don't think his eyes have opened fully since he's stepped foot in the car, and before I know it, his lips are crashing onto mine, warm with the burning taste of alcohol. He shoves his tongue into my mouth before I have time to react, scoping around every area behind my lips.

I push my forearm into his chest, shoving him back into his seat, but he doesn't seem phased. Just giggling to himself. My hands are shaking. I don't know what the f*ck just happened. He thought I was Matt. He wanted to kiss Matt. "Don't.. Don't do that again".

He nods as if he understands before promptly throwing up at his feet. As if this night couldn't get f*cking worse. I roll down the windows, hoping to air out the car enough to where cleaning it when we get home won't suck so bad.

The rest of the drive is tense, despite Chris being asleep the entire time. There is absolutely no way that that had just happened. But it did. Chris likes Matt. I should've known by their guilty looks when I walk into a room and they're sitting just a little bit too close. I guarantee that that's why they've been acting like they have never interacted before in they're entire life these past couple of days.

I pull into the driveway, our neighborhood a lot quieter than anticipated making me sigh in relief. I don't know what I was expecting. For our neighbors to all be on their porches watching me lug a passed-out Chris across the yard, judging my every move.

I walk around to the passenger seat, Chris's head pressed hard against the window making his cheek look squished against the glass. I open the door, and if he wasn't buckled he would've fallen out, the seat belt using all of its slack to keep him in his seat.

"Alright, come on, Chris". I unbuckle him and he immediately falls into my arms. I swing him over my shoulder, just praying he doesn't throw up again. Luckily, he and Matt are both very light and I have been working out, otherwise, this would be a lot more tedious of a task. One hand is keeping Chris steady on my shoulder and I use the other to unlock the front door. I set the keys into the bowl beside the front door and drop Chris onto the couch. He groans as his back hits the cushions.

"What the hell is going on"?

I flinch at Matt's voice behind me. I turn to see him standing in the kitchen, a handful of grapes in one hand and a cup of water in the other. "Have you been awake this whole time"?

"Yeah". He walks around the counter and glances over the back of the couch to look at Chris, whose arms are wrapped around himself seemingly to keep himself warm.

"So, you could've been the one to pick him up"? My patience has definitely been tested tonight. I surprise myself every day, I mean, I could've hit both of them at least once tonight and I haven't. The only part of tonight that seems worth it is now knowing this little secret between them.

"What, you didn't have fun"? He laughs, not knowing the extent of all of the horrible crap I have come to endure this evening.

"No. But, he did tell me something interesting".

"Well, I'd imagine that anything that came out of his mouth while he's in this state would be interesting ".

"It was about you".

He freezes, eyes trained on Chris, not wanting to look at me. "W-what'd he say"?

"Care to venture a guess"? I cross my arms over my chest, stepping in front of him so that if he looked up, he'd have to look at me.

"How would I know"? He finally meets my gaze, and I can see beads of sweat form on his forehead.

"What's going on with you two"?

"Nothing".

I keep myself from making a comment that I would come to regret in the morning. I have to keep my cool, otherwise Matt will either shut down completely or he will lose his ever loving mind and wake everybody up. "I don't think that Chris thinks it's nothing. He seemed very eager to stick his tongue in your mouth".

This catches him off guard, and he now looks more confused than nervous. "What"?

"Oh yeah. Chris thought I was you, and showed me his true feelings". I watch him intently, trying to decipher the look on his face, but all I'm reading is 'horrified'. "Look, you guys can't do this. I don't know what made you think that any of that is okay. But it's not".

"We didn't-we. We didn't do anything. I mean-". Matt stumbles over his words, trying to find the right thing to say, well, anything to say.

"Stop. I just want the truth".

"We literally just kissed once. Twice. It was nothing, it meant nothing".

"I don't think it meant nothing to him. It can't happen again. All this is gonna do is hurt everyone involved". His face falls, and he swallows hard. I can see his hands shaking as he brings his thumb up to his mouth to bite at his nail.

"I know".

"You need to talk to him when he wakes up. Tell him it's done". He nods his head quickly, seeming to just want this conversation to be over, and I don't blame him. If I was in his position, this conversation would be on the same page as literal freaking torture. "What were you thinking"? He looks at me, his entire face a deep shade of red. "I mean, what made you even think about him like that"?

"I don't know. It all just kind of happened. There was no thinking involved".

"Are you guys gonna be okay? Are you gonna go back to normal"?

"I don't know".

I know the answer to that one. No, they're not. It's going to be damn near impossible to act normal when you've crossed that line with somebody, especially when that persons your brother. There is no forgetting that it happened when those feeing are going to be seared into your brain.

I just sigh, forgetting about the vomit in the front seat, and the fact that mom is gonna see Chris passed out on the couch, stinking of alcohol, and make my way to bed. I leave Matt just standing in the living room not knowing what to do, but it's not my problem anymore. I'm just gonna go to bed and pretend that none of this ever happened. That Chris didn't kiss me, that Matt didn't have a guilty, pleading look on his face. I'm just gonna go about the rest of my life like we're all gonna be fine. No matter what happens, I'm removing myself from the equation. No matter what happens, I'm keeping my own mental health protected from the fallout.

Matt's p.o.v

The stairs creak as Nick makes his way to his room, the living room falling silent aside from Chris's steady, deep breathing. I sit down on the couch closest to his head, brushing my fingers through his tangled curls. I knew this would happen. I knew people would find out. Luckily, Nick seemed eager to end the conversation and I can only pray that he never brings it up again.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I sigh when I see the notification from Nick.
'Clean the car, Chris threw up'.

That can wait. I don't want to do anything aside from sit here and relish the time I have left before having to face tomorrow. I don't want to talk to Chris about this. He should've just told me how he felt when he kissed me. Why was it easier for him to kiss me than it was to just be honest with me. To be honest with himself.

"You're so stupid", I whisper and I can't tell if I'm talking to Chris or to myself.

"Matty"? Chris groans, rolling over and pushing himself towards me to rest his head on my lap.

"Hey".

"I threw up".

I chuckle, running my thumb against his cheek, skin soft and warm. "You kissed Nick".

"No, I didn't". His eyes are still peacefully closed, and I just shake my head. At least I know that he didn't mean to kiss him. That he only likes one of his brothers.

"Yeah, buddy. You did". His hand reaches up to grab mine, fingers intertwining with my own. "And he seems pretty freaked out. You might want to apologize tomorrow".

"Oh f*ck. I did kiss him". His eyes open wide, his face showing a range of expressions that are hard to read. "What did he say"? He seems to be sobering up now, probably having thrown up a good portion of whatever he drank.

"Well. He didn't seem like he hated us. So that's good".

"That's not funny". He squeezes my hand tighter, and I gently press my nails into his skin, attempting to show him that I'm not leaving. That I'm here for him.

"To be fair, I told you that this would happen".

"I figured that you'd squeal before I did".

I try to keep my laugh quiet, hoping to not wake anybody up. I want to have these last few hours to ourselves. "Me to".

He leans up, shuffling over beside me, our arms pressing against each other. "So. What did he say"?

"That this is over. And I agree with him. I want us to go back to how we were before".

He looks me in the eye, and I avert my gaze. Ending it is the right thing to do. We both should've known that this would never work. For one, it's illegal, and two, it would break our family. It would wreck everything that we know and love, and it's just not worth it. Our parents are accepting, but they're not that accepting.

His fingers brush across the back of my neck causing goosebumps to form, his voice low as he speaks. "Look at me". I hesitate for a moment before letting myself look into his eyes. "Is that what you want? For it to be over"?

"What I want doesn't matter".

"It does to me". He leans forward, lips so gentle against my own that it almost makes me want to cry, but how can I cry when I'm getting something that I didn't even realize I wanted. Something I didn't know I needed.

I push into him harder, breathing in sharply with my nose as to not have to separate from him for even a moment.

The smell of sick from his shoes disappears as he kicks them off, before unzipping his jacket and shrugging it off his shoulders.

"We're ending this, right"? I finally break away from him to ask, already anticipating where this kiss is leading.

"Yeah". He tugs off his shirt, throwing it onto the floor, and with his pointer finger, pulls at the hem of mine. "Tomorrow".

Chapter 6: Nick x Matt

Chapter Text

Nick’s p.o.v

I sit at my desk, aimlessly scrolling through instagram. I've gotten nothing accomplished today. No editing, no chores. I haven't even managed to eat aside from a slice of lunch meat that I found in an otherwise empty Tupperware container in the back of the fridge. I did happen to make my bed. Well, I made my bed last night and then slept on top of the smoothed out comforter not wanting to mess up the only thing I was able to get myself to do. What am I proud of myself for? For forgiving myself for not getting anything done? For coping with the understanding that I'm practically useless?

I set my phone down to stare at the screen of my laptop that's just about bright enough to burn off my retinas despite it set at the lowest setting. At least it feels that way with all of my bedroom lights turned off. It's sat in front of me for over an hour now, the video I'm working on just as long as when I started.

"f*ck", I mutter to myself running my hands up and down my face, trying to force any sense of normalcy to take over. This feels pointless.

I wander downstairs and grab the last Pepsi that is hidden in the otherwise empty box in the back of the pantry. It's not cold, but it doesn't matter. At least Chris hadn't found it.

I make my way back into my room and flinch when I see Matt sitting on my bed, legs crossed and his hands in his lap.

"Jesus, you scared me".

"Sorry". He gives me a shy smile, a nervous energy coming from his demeanor. He doesn't move from his position, so still I can barely tell if he's breathing. I Sit adjacent to him on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to announce his reasoning for waiting for me in my room. But he doesn't. He avoids my eyes, keeping his gaze trained on the bedspread.

"What's going on"?

"Can we just lay down for a little bit"? His voice sounds so small and embarrassed and I can't help but to smile at it.

I scoot back wards so that I can maneuver the blankets so that they're over top of me, and motion for Matt to follow my lead. He crawls towards me, kicking his feet under the blankets as well before shimmying down into a lying position. He wraps his arms around my stomach and buries his head into my chest, I can feel the warmth exuding from his body even underneath his thick sweatshirt. He exhales deeply in satisfaction, his breath hot against my chest.

"You okay, Matt"?

It's not strange for Matt and Chris to cuddle up together, as well as Matt cuddling into me every once in a while. What is strange is that he asked prior. He typically just goes for it, plastering himself to me or Chris during a movie or right before we all go upstairs into our separate bedrooms. When we first got our own rooms, Matt would sleep in mine or Chris's beds for weeks before sleeping in his own, scared of being alone for the first time even when we were only a room away.

"I'm fine". He sounds different. Not nervous like he frequently does, or even sad, just different. "How'd you figure out you were gay"?

I glance down at him, hoping to read his expression to not be stuck deciphering his voice, but his cheek remains pressed against my chest leaving only the top of his head visible to me. "I feel like we've talked about it before".

"Yeah, but like. Was there a certain thing that made it undeniable"?

I pause for a moment, breathing in his scent, a mixture of clean laundry and mint. "Not really. I always knew, I just didn't know just how gay I actually was".

"What do you mean"?

"Well". I hesitate again, trying to find the right way to explain it. There really is no easy way to explain it. I first realized when I had caught a glimpse of Matt getting out of the shower, his chest glistening with water and his hair hanging into his eyes. I felt guilty for a long time for looking at him like that. For sexualizing what should've been just a casual encounter with your brother. It was humiliating. I'm surprised he didn't notice the slight drop of my jaw when he took his towel off from around his hips to dry his hair. I high tailed it out of the bathroom immediately, feeling an intense wave of shame as well as a twitch in my pants. But that's something that I will never admit to anyone.

"I don't know man, why do you ask"?

His arms tighten around me, just barely enough to notice, his body pressing into mine a little bit harder. "Did you experiment with guys before you came out, or did you not make sure first"?

"I didn't really need to experiment with guys first because I've kissed girls and felt nothing, but I felt something when I did as little as look at guys".

He's quiet, seeming to ponder over what I've said as if he's trying to figure it out for himself. As if he's trying to ask himself the right questions to find the answers he's looking for.

"Are you questioning it"?

He doesn't respond, quiet for a moment. I can feel his fingers tapping against the bottom of my T-shirt, prodding at the skin that is peaking beneath the hem. "No".

"Matt, you can talk to me".

"I know". His voice carries a heavy sigh, his warm breath once again caressing my skin. "It's confusing".

"Well, you don't have to figure it out right now. Take your time. You can try whatever you feel comfortable with, whether that's with a man or a woman".

He finally looks up at me, and with the way he's holding me close, our noses are only centimeters apart. I can practically feel the tip of his nose bumping into mine with every breath. "Are you okay, Nick"? His voice is so soft, so gentle.

"I'm fine".

"Have you eaten today"? I know simply by the tone in his voice that he means an actual meal. He means, am I falling back into the pattern of disordered eating habits that I've fallen into so many times before. I don't even mean to most of the time. Most people fall into those habits while looking for something to control in their life, but it's different for me. I don't even realize I'm doing it until it's been two days since I've had an actual meal, and I realize just how little I care about my health.

"Kind of".

His eyes soften at my answer, not believing me and I don't blame him. "Do you want to go out to eat somewhere".

"Not right now. I'm comfortable here".

He nods, lowering his head back into the crook of my neck, the bridge of his nose laying against my collar bone. He inhales deeply against my skin. I appreciate the way he handles my ever changing moods. He's not judgmental or forceful about getting me to do what he knows I'm incapable of. Just the concern in his voice tells me every thing I need to know. It tells me that he's going to be here when I need the extra help, that he's going to stick with me when I am finally able to do the things I need to do to fix myself.

"I think I like guys". His voice is so soft, almost a whisper, and he doesn't move his face from its place in my chest. "But I don't know".

"That's okay". I run my fingers through his hair, smoothing the occasional tangled strands. "You'll know for sure eventually".

"I just... On one hand it feels obvious, but on the other hand. It doesn't feel like me. It doesn't feel like I'm the one feeling those things".

"What do you mean? Like, you don't want to feel that way"?

He sighs again, softer this time as if he doesn't understand it himself. "No. I just wish I knew for sure. If I knew I liked guys I wouldn't be ashamed of it, I wouldn't mind feeling that way. It's the fact that it's all just one confusing mess that I'm not a part of".

I know how it feels to not understand your own head-your own heart even, and it kills me to know Matt is feeling the same way. Part of me is happy though. Happy that I can be there for him through it like no one was for me. Happy that I've experienced the uncomfortable emotional turmoil that comes with growing up in a heteronormative world and can now help him navigate himself through the same thing.

"Have you thought about experimenting. With men"?

He looks up at me again, his light eyes becoming glassy with tears, foggy with confusion. He sniffles quietly, bringing his knuckle up to wipe the tip of his nose. “Yeah, with who”? He forces a strained laugh out from deep within his lungs and most-likely causing a sting thick in his throat.

I grab his chin with my pointer finger and thumb, tipping his face upward so his lips are hovering in front of mine. His breath hitches, almost to a stop, and under the pads of my fingers, I can feel his face warming with an embarrassed flush.

“What are you doing”?

I softly shush him, my pointer finger gently stroking the tears against his cheek in attempt to calm him. I allow my lips to hover against his for a second longer before pushing into him, pulling the collar of his shirt towards me at the same time. He inhales deeply with his nose attempting to catch his newly lost breath, shaky, but air nonetheless.

The kiss is so slow, neither of us moving, comfortable in the safety of stillness. I drag my tongue against the smoothness of his bottom lip, his mouth ever so slightly opening to allow me to enter.

I’ve kissed a handful of guys, enough to know that this is one of the best I’ve had. I don’t know if it’s due to the knowledge that I’m not going to be pressured to carry it further or if it’s because I’m with the familiarity of Matt. The sweetness of his love, and the tenderness of his touch.

I’m the first to pull away, his lips attempting to follow my fleeing ones. Eyes still closed, he presses his forehead back against the safety of my chest, hands drawing against the skin underneath my shirt.

“Thanks, Nick”.

Chapter 7: I want to worship you

Chapter Text

Chris X Matt

Chris’s p.o.v

I awake, alone in my bed, my sheets covered in sweat and a sticky mess of precum residing in my shorts.

It almost feels more shameful to wake up alone after dreaming of intimacy than it does knowing that that dream was about my own brother. My dick is uncomfortably hard now, the stimulation from dazed thrusting against the blankets not enough to finish the job. It feels tedious to complete the job alone, knowing it would be so much better with a helping hand. I’d be so compliant with anything he wanted to do to me, if only he loved me the way I do him. Yet, here I am, an embarrassed flush against my skin despite no one having known what I had dreamt of, with a hard-on that refuses to soften on its own.

I rake my fingers up and down my face with a sigh and let my hand trail down my bare chest, down my stomach and underneath the waste-band of my shorts allowing my thoughts to drift back to Matt.

He reminds me of an art piece of a god that has been worshipped by those who love him. Oh, to worship him the way that I crave to. I would paint his features with my lips, sculpt his body with my fingertips. I would form the masterpiece beneath my hands until they were raw attempting to show my adoration to him, praying he could see just how much I would sacrifice for his presence. Maybe then, he would bless me with his heart, his love, his touch. But with a God, comes doubt. Could I have the faith that it would take to get him to love me the way that I want? Could I have enough faith to get him to see me through rose colored glasses, seeing the good in me where I am lacking. Seeing how good the intimacy that I crave from him would be. Together we could make our own artwork. Our sweat, spit, and tears coinciding to make a beautiful scenery. The deep, scarlet scratches I would leave on his back could be the mountains, the hickeys I would bite against his neck could be the lilac sky.

I inhale sharply when I make contact with my dick, it far more sensitive than I had previously thought. How long had I been ignoring it? With every stroke I think of a different piece of Matt. His soft pink lips, his freckled chest and creamy skin. His arms that are stronger than my own, able to pin me down so easily.

I think of his lips against my skin, his wet tongue drawing across my neck, teeth scraping along my collar bones. I crave the sensation of his hands, his cold fingers. His body would lay over mine, legs intertwining with my own, and I just know that his knee would fit perfectly between my thighs, enticing the flesh.

It may be a sinful thought that plagues my mind, but what is sin without repentance? His tongue in my mouth would serve that repentance, cleansing the lust and rather transforming it into love.

I come into my fist all the while thinking of him.

He is a god to be worshipped indeed, and I can pray every night for him to hear me, but the heavens are empty with no one to answer.