#House of Wildz | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

palmettoes · 6 years ago

Note

hi babe so have you ever considered neil and matt sharing an apartment? maybe they're on the same team or close enough to share one, and it's absolutely amazing because these boys love and support each other so much. but then.. they're also both absolute children when left alone together and the foxes get updates of whatever the most recent thing is with one completely ridiculous picture that never gets explained (like the Sofa Incident). basically love and fun and the brothers they never got!!

(em you already Know how much i love this prompt but like ,, in case you needed a reminder i LOVE this prompt im still crying thANK U anyway this took probably too long but i highkey poured my heart into this dumb little fic i hope u love it ur such an angel ily !!!)

read it on ao3! | prompts are closed :(

◊

Months from now, Neil will be grateful for this lifeline.It’s the offering of comfort and stability he needs long before he knows he’sallowed to want it, and Matt is holding it out to him without a second ofhesitation. Months from now, Neil will appreciate it for what it is. But fornow it feels bigger than he deserves.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he says, placing a neatly foldedshirt on top of the growing pile beside his suitcase and turning to look atMatt. “I can look after myself.”

Matt, to his credit, doesn’t roll his eyes but Neil watchesthe corners twitch and he knows it’s a near thing.

“I know you can. I’m not asking to be your babysitter. I’masking to be your roommate.”

“Why?”

Neil can’t help it. The question is itching under his skin,making him shifty and uncomfortable. He doesn’t understand Matt’s motives: hespent three years living in close quarters with Neil and half of the last twopractically glued to Neil’s couch at any given opportunity. Why he is willinglysigning up for another year of it, Neil cannot fathom.

“We’re playing for the same team. It just makes sense,” Mattsays and he makes it sound like it really does. Neil frowns and purses his lipsand can’t think of any good reason to dispute it.

“You don’t share an apartment with any of your otherteammates.”

Matt does roll his eyes this time, but it’s a gesturefilled with fondness and, for reasons Neil can’t explain, the rest of hiscomplaints stick in his throat.

“None of my other teammates are my best friend.”

◊

It’s surprisingly easy, Neil thinks, to fall into theroutine of living with Matt. The apartment is already full of Matt’sbelongings, from his two year head start, but bits and pieces of Neil slip intothe cracks—his running shoes by the door, two mugs by the coffee pot eachmorning, Andrew’s hoodie on the back of the couch. It becomes theirs intrinsicallyuntil the discomfiture ebbs away and the word home seeps through.

When Neil wakes up in his new apartment for the first time,the morning feels stretched and torpid. The absence of weight in the bed besidehim is a hollow ache in his chest, and he gets up just to avoid the immensityof it. The world is drowsy outside his window, dark and slow as it blinksitself back to life, but their apartment is already alight with the smell ofcoffee and the muffled sound of socked footsteps.

Neil finds Matt in the kitchen, one hand pouring milk into amug of coffee, the other stirring porridge on the stove. Matt looks up at hisarrival and grins, all teeth and dimples. He sets down the milk carton andhooks his fingers around the handle of the other mug, holding it out to Neil.

“Morning, princess,” he says. Neil wraps his stiff fingersaround the mug, letting the warmth seep through to his bones and wake himproperly.

“Your porridge is done,” he observes, because he can see itthickening around Matt’s spoon as he steps past. Matt yelps and flicks off thegas, transferring the pot to a cool hob and reaching for a bowl in the samemovement.

“There’s enough for two,” he says as he scrapes the gloopymixture into his bowl. Neil stands on his toes to open one of the cupboards andgrab a granola bar from the second shelf.

“I’m good, thanks.”

Neil holds the half-opened granola bar up in defence whenMatt shoots him the look he reserves for disapproval at Neil’s tendency to skipmeals. He doesn’t comment but the tilt of his mouth is displeased. Neil shrugsit off and sips his coffee.

“Excited to meet the team later?” Matt asks as he runs hotwater into the empty pot to soak. Neil waits until the gurgle of the tap shutsoff to reply.

“Not really. I don’t care what they’re like. It’s how theyplay that matters.”

Matt turns to lean against the kitchen bench, bowl in hand,and rolls his eyes fondly—something of a recurring action around Neil.

“Now you sound like Kevin.”

“Kevin sounds like me,” Neil corrects, just to be contrary.

Matt grins around a mouthful of porridge. “You’re both asbad as each other. Come on, you can have first shower. I want to show you thebest route to the supermarket before we’re due at the stadium.”

◊

The team, as it turns out, arefar more excited to meet Neil than he is to meet them. There are three new teammembers, including him; one other first year pro and a transfer from Denver,but Neil inadvertently steals most of the attention. It’s some mixture of hismemorable face gracing television far more than any college student has a rightto, and Matt singing his praises over the past two years, that gives him adegree of interest the Cannons gravitate towards. All Neil really wants to dois talk to the Denver recruit about a certain goalkeeper on his old team, butMatt squeezes his shoulder lightly and it is as much a warning as it is acomfort. Play nice.

Neil smiles and lets KatiLaskey—starting striker—hook her elbow around his neck and rub her other handlightly through his hair. If he closed his eyes, her weight against his bodywould almost feel like Dan. The thought is both reassuring and saddening, likea weight constricting his chest not quite enough to leave him breathless, butspiking discomfort through his ribcage all the same. He finds he cannot makeeye contact with any of his new teammates.

“They’re not Foxes,” he says,when Matt prompts him for an opinion as they ease into traffic on their wayhome. Matt hums assent because it’s true, they are not and never will be theshape of puzzle pieces cut from the same jigsaw. They are Cannons, equal partschaos and content, and they have dug a Neil-sized hole in their line-up, but itis a manufactured kind of welcoming, a family born of necessity rather thandesire.

“They’re good people,” Matt saysand Neil cannot find fault to disagree.

“They’re good as teammates,” hesays instead. Matt flicks him a look under the guise of checking his blind spotbefore signalling the turn-off. They turn down the side street connected totheir apartment complex and Neil traces the vaguely familiar shapes outside thewindow with his finger.

It is still warm yet, the airhumid and muggy with the weight of summer. He can see heat hanging heavy overthe pavement and pooling in pockets between the clouds. He hates days likethese, but this one feels less like a burden and more like a blanket, swathinghim in the absence of body heat. Not ideal, but somehow enough all the same.

“They’re good as teammates, but Ialready have all the family I need.”

When Matt looks at him this time,it is with blatant intent and his smile is blinding.

◊

mattyb: someone come collect neil he’s making me sad

gaynolds: what did he tell you this time??

mattyb: a story about his mom

gaynolds: fuck those are the worst

wildz: u all g josten?

jos10: I’m fine.

gaynolds: :/

mattyb: he let me pat his head

wildz: 4 his comfort or urs ???

mattyb: honestly mine but i like to think it’shelping him too

jos10: It’s nice. Thank you.

nickyminaj: omg neil :( u cant be sad when im too faraway to hug u

jos10: I’m not sad.

jos10: Matt is.

mattyb: I AM

nickyminaj: mattie no :(

nickyminaj: coming to hug u both rn

wildz: me 2

gaynolds: me three

wildz: group hug @ the b/j apt.

nickyminaj: the WHAT

wildz: boyd/josten but im just rlzing how bad thtsounds

mattyb: H

mattyb: NNNN OFJAJKM.VWQ3JFJEZ/.DS’’;XMLD

nickyminaj: uh

wildz: r u dyin ???

mattyb: might have to take a raincheck on the grouphug

mattyb: OH HOLY FUCK

wildz: ?????

gaynolds: omg

mattyb: NEIL JUST

mattyb: CHRIST

nickyminaj: what did he do now lmfao

gaynolds: b/j apartment is my favourite soap

nickyminaj: ^^^

wildz: r they actually ded ????

gaynolds: matt??

nickyminaj: 50 bucks says neil started a fire tryingto make dinner

gaynolds: you’re on

gaynolds: josten knows how to cook

nickyminaj: lmaooo

nickyminaj: u didn’t see him try to use the sandwichpress at the columbia house

nickyminaj: andrew banished him from the kitchen

gaynolds: fuck

wildz: can confirm, neil knos how 2 cook but nt how 2use tech

kevinday: What’s happening?

mattyb: [image attached]

kevinday: What the fuck.

gaynolds: what the fuck

nickyminaj: WHAT THE FUCK

wildz: wht hppnd???

nickyminaj: UR COUCH IM CRYING

kevinday: How did that happen?

gaynolds: is neil BLEEDING

nickyminaj: holy fuck yeah his face

wildz: shit

kevinday: Is that a bird?

gaynolds: IS THAT A BIRD

nickyminaj: oh my god

wildz: matt wtf is goin on?

jos10: We’re fine. Matt had to sit down because hewas laughing too much.

wildz: neil ????

nickyminaj: EXPLAIN

jos10: I have to go. It’s fine.

gaynolds: josten you’re bleeding out of your face andthere is a pigeon on your head

kevinday: Neil

nickyminaj: oh my god

nickyminaj: we’re pretending this is normal oh my god

aaminyard: what is going on?

aaminyard: oh that couch is in shreds lol

nickyminaj: AARON PLS

wildz: called matt but it went str8 2 vmail

gaynolds: the bird probably fucking murdered them

aaminyard: finally

nickyminaj: aaron pls

wildz: aaron pls

gaynolds: aaron pls

aminyard: aaron no

◊

(The bird is collected by an ABC volunteer.

They buy a new couch.)

◊

Integrating himself into an already functioning team is botheasier and harder than knitting together the torn edges of the Foxes. TheCannons are professionals—polite because they are paid to be and serious whereexy is concerned—but they are friends off the court as well. Three months intotheir season, Neil has grown used to one or another of their teammates crashingon the couch in his and Matt’s apartment, or showing up unannounced withtakeout on their days off. Kati takes him out for coffee twice a week at asugar-free café two blocks from his apartment (which Neil delights in tellingAndrew about) and fills him in on the details of her personal life. (Her longdistance girlfriend just moved over from Missouri. They’re adopting cats.) Inreturn, Neil shows her the latest picture Andrew has texted him (the curl ofsmoke against a city skyline, or the glint of a blade under sunlight, or theopen freeway above the Maserati dashboard). Neil is never very sure, but hethinks this makes them friends.

Somewhere along the way, the team become less likecolleagues and more like something personal, something that spreads like warmbutter inside Neil’s chest. He knows parts of their lives that go deeper thannecessity for survival, while they learn where he likes to go to eat and what hiscollege major was. He lets them scavenge through his life for the titbits thatshould not matter yet somehow do, but saves the intimate details to sharebetween Matt and Kati. It’s not that he and Andrew are a secret, but Neil isprivate by nature and the Cannons, for all their friendship, are still notfamily.

They seem content to take what they’re given and pry nofurther, so Neil isn’t concerned when their captain, Breanna Ramírez, asks himto spare a minute after practice. He detours past Matt on his way off the courtto let him know he’ll make his own way home. Matt swings an arm around Neil’sshoulders and leans down to knock their heads together.

“Nice work today, honey,” he says and lets go, waving asNeil heads to the locker room.

Breanna takes him to a patisserie ten minutes from thestadium where, she tells him, they sell petits fours that her husbandthinks are to-die-for. Neil texts a picture of the display cabinet followed bya question mark to Andrew while he waits for Breanna to order. They get theircoffees to-go and Breanna’s husband’s petits fours in a small paper bag,and walk the short distance to a nearby park.

They talk about the season, about the flaws in the startingline-up, and about the kids Breanna and her husband are currently fostering.Neil wants to tell her he and Matt almost adopted an injured bird that they letfly into their apartment, but decides she might not take it in her stride aseasily as the Foxes.

Instead he says, “Maybe I’ll stop by the patisserie again onthe way home. Matt loves pain au chocolat.”

Breanna looks at him, looks away, sighs, looks at him again.

“Josten.” She fiddles with the lid of her coffee cup. “Neil.I didn’t want to say anything, but I feel, I don’t know, morally obligated.”

Neil’s pulse jumps in his wrist and he blinks at Breanna,confused and apprehensive.

“Morally obligated to what?”

“Look, you and Boyd are both lovely and I know it isn’treally my business, but the team has been talking and— Well, I’m not trying topreach to you, but sometimes his fiancée comes to visit and I just want to beclear that none of us are comfortable covering for you. If it comes to that.”

She’s doing everything to avoid his gaze now and Neil hasnever seen her so unsure of herself. He frowns, turning her words over in hishead but no matter which way he pushes and pulls he can’t make sense of them.

“What does Dan have to do with this?”

“You know, because of your… thing with Boyd.”

“My—” Neil stares at her as the pieces click into place,forming a complete picture, albeit one that makes Neil’s head ache. “You thinkI’m having an affair with Matt?”

“You’re not?” Breanna finally makes eye contact, head tiltedand eyebrows knit. Neil almost laughs but something about the set of her jawstops him.

“What makes you think we’re having an affair?”

“You’re very affectionate,” she says, shrugging. “We’venoticed things.”

“He’s my best friend.” Neil’s tongue feels numb in his mouth.His words come slowly, as though his brain is still catching up to theconversation. “We’re just like that.”

“You’re close.”

“Yeah. He’s my best friend,” Neil says again, like she mighthave missed it the first time. Breanna bites her lip and glances down at whereher fingers have twisted in the paper bag.

“There’s really nothing going on there, is there?” she asksin a small voice, and Neil’s patience slips a little.

“He wouldn’t do that to Dan. I wouldn’t do that toDan.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“Didn’t mean to what? Imply that we’re both cheatingassholes? Yes, you did, otherwise you wouldn’t have said anything.”

He knows his temper is sparking, knows he should put a lidon it, but his mouth is running faster than he can catch it. He doesn’tunderstand how she can’t see that they’re the two least likely people to beunfaithful to their partners, or why she thinks it’s any of her concern anyway.

“But you can see how it seemed like that, right? I mean, hecalls you pet names all the time. You buy him pastries for no reason. Lastweek, he kissed you at practice.”

“On the forehead,” Neil feels the need to remind her. “Becausewe’re friends. Do you need a rundown of every interaction we’ve ever had toprove that? How about a timeline of the development of our friendship?”

“This really isn’t any of my business,” Breanna says andNeil’s mouth twists in scorn.

“You’re right, it isn’t. I should go. I still want to get tothe patisserie before it closes.” He stands up, forcibly releasing the tensionin his fists, and tells himself to walk away. “See you at practice tomorrow.”

“Neil, I’m sorry,” she starts to say but he waves her off.He only makes it three steps before he decides he’s not finished. He pivots onthe spot, clenches his fists, and inhales sharply.

“For the record, I have a boyfriend and we’re very happy,”he says and watches Breanna’s face go slack, her mouth opening on words thatdon’t come out. It takes her three tries to find them.

“You never said.”

“It was never any of your business.”

She bows her head little, then looks up to meet his eyes,her cheek dimpled where it’s caught between her teeth. Neil shrugs.

“Just so you know. He’s the only one I’m interested in.”

Breanna nods and looks like she wants to say something else,but she doesn’t protest when Neil turns again to walk away. He has a funnyfeeling the patisserie doesn’t open late and he really doesn’t want to missthem.

◊

“The team think we’re having an affair,” he tells Mattlater, perched on the kitchen workbench to the left of the stove. Matt iscooking pasta sauce in a large pot, which means he’s making enough to freezethe leftovers because he knows Neil will happily go hungry if it means hedoesn’t have to cook on days when he can’t find the energy.

“Our team?” Matt asks incredulously. Neil nods,absentmindedly popping the seal on a half-empty jar of olives.

“Ramírez told me it’s been team gossip for weeks.”

Matt laughs, reaching around Neil to lift another pot downfrom the shelf above his head. He puts it on one of the empty hobs and returnsto stirring his sauce, so Neil leans over to flick the switch on the kettle. Hesettles back into his earlier position and searches Matt’s face, but all hefinds are traces of amusement. It calms him a little, his temper over Breanna’saccusations dissipating.

“Fifty bucks says Pav started it,” Matt says, grinning.Aleksei Pavlov is one of their starting backliners and notorious for hisoutlandish but widely believed rumours. He and Matt have a friendly rivalrythat involves playful nicknames and good-natured trash talking at every turn.

“I don’t bet,” Neil reminds Matt unnecessarily. The kettlepings as the water reaches boiling point and he lifts it over to pour into theempty pot on the stovetop. “Allison would have a field day with this though.”

“Oh God, let’s not tell her. If she finds out, Dan findsout, and I’ll be trying to live it down until I’m old and grey,” Matt laughs.Neil hands him a pair of scissors to cut open the bag of pasta in his hand, andreplaces the now empty kettle on its outlet.

“She wouldn’t be mad?”

“Hardly. She’d think it was hilarious.” Matt pours pastainto the pot and flicks the gas on, before giving Neil a curious look. “WouldAndrew be mad?”

Neil hums, returning to pressing the lid of the olive jarand letting it pop back into place. He doesn’t know what Andrew wouldthink—they’ve never had cause to discuss it before—but he can count on one handthe amount of times Andrew has shown interest in things that don’t directlyconcern him.

“I don’t think he’d care.”

“What, he hears his boyfriend is off gallivanting with hishot roommate halfway across the country and he doesn’t even want to check up?”

“He knows we’re not. Andrew doesn’t care for rumours,” Neilsays, shrugging. Thinking of Andrew’s signature apathy dispels the remainder ofhis anger and he finds that he doesn’t care for the rumour either. Andrew’svoice in his head asks why he cares what other people think and Neil can’t finda reason.

“That’s true enough,” Matt agrees. He twists off the heatunder the sauce and gestures at Neil. “Pass me those olives, would you, mylove?”

Neil snorts, releases the seal on the jar, and hands itover. “This is why people think we’re having an affair.”

“Maybe we are.”

Matt’s tongue dips out to lick the corner of his smile andNeil rolls his eyes.

“If I was going to cheat, I think I could at least do betterthan you.”

Neil earns himself an olive pitted straight at his foreheadfor that one. He catches its rebound in his hand and pops it into his mouth,rubbing the stain off his skin and kicking half-heartedly in Matt’s direction.Matt takes an exaggerated step out of the way and returns to slicing olives andsprinkling them into the sauce.

“Do you really want to be insulting me when the fate of yourdinner rests in my hands?” Matt asks. Neil leans over to steal another olive.

“I’ll tell Kevin you’re intentionally depriving me of abalanced diet.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“I have him on speed dial,” Neil says, slipping his phoneout of his pocket and holding it up for emphasis. He pushes off the counterwith his hands, landing softly on the linoleum floor and using the momentum toslide on socked feet to the other side of the kitchen. He bends to take twobowls from the cupboard and leans over to the cutlery drawer as he hears Mattchecking on the pasta behind him.

“Hey, sweetheart?”

Neil turns to find Matt beckoning to him, a strand ofspaghetti dangling from his fingers. He steps over and holds out his hand whenprompted by Matt’s grabby motions. Matt loops the spaghetti around his ringfinger, twisting and squeezing the ends until they mush together, effectivelytying the pasta to Neil’s finger.

“Give the team something to talk about, hey,” he says,exaggerating the wink that accompanies it. Neil turns his hand around and holdsup his middle finger in response. Matt laughs and the sound is white horsesbreaking over Neil’s head. He lets himself be pulled under.

◊

mattyb: [image attached]

mattyb: he said yes!

wildz: what

gaynolds: what

renesbian: what

nickyminaj: what

aminyard: what.

nickyminaj: omg

◊

Andrew calls him two hours later while Matt is making hotchocolate and Neil is flicking through sports channels with the TV on mute.

“I let you do one thing on your own and you get engaged toBoyd,” he says by way of hello. Neil smiles, tipping his head against the backof the couch and tapping the remote against his thigh.

“Jealous, are we?”

Andrew huffs, just barely but Neil catches it. He bites downon a laugh and lets his eyes slip closed.

“I thought you at least had better taste than that.”

“I chose you, didn’t I?” Neil says. Warm honey oozes downhis spine and he melts into the cracks between the couch cushions, the wholeworld slipping away and zeroing in on the static crackling down the phone line.Andrew’s voice is sturdy and smooth, garbled by the distance but stillunmistakeably his. Neil relaxes into it.

“Is that an affirmation of your good taste or further proofof your idiocy?”

Neil hums around a grin but doesn’t reply. He knows Andrewknows what he means, even though neither of them will acknowledge it. Theylapse into steady silence, soft breaths and fleeting movements between them.Neil can hear the buzz of traffic from Andrew’s end and assumes he’s on thebalcony of his high-rise apartment, overlooking the bustling street. Neilremembers the city lights and cool breeze from his last visit, the smell ofsmoke and petrol mixing in the air, the way the railing felt digging into hisback when Andrew kissed him up against it. He lets out a half-sigh, abortedbefore Andrew can make anything of it, and swallows the whiskey-flavouredmemory.

“My team knows about you,” he says, just to have somethingto say. It’s a lot like that with Andrew now—they no longer deal in weightedtruths and bleeding secrets. Neil finds that he doesn’t mind half as much as hethought he would, back when he used to worry they would run out of things tosay one day. Sometimes they have conversations without substance; after all,Andrew has always been good at making something out of nothing.

“I would hope so. They’ve played me twice,” Andrew says onan exhale. With his eyes pressed shut and his lips parted on a breath, Neil canalmost taste the smoke leaking from Andrew’s mouth.

“Funny,” he deadpans. Neither of them laugh. “I mean aboutus.”

He half expects Andrew to be difficult for the sake of it,but Andrew has long since stopped denying they are two parts of the same whole.He fiddles with his cigarette instead; Neil can hear his fingers tap away theash.

“Is that a problem?” he asks and Neil hears the part hedoesn’t say, the I don’t mind if you don’t, the this was never secretto anyone who was looking.

“No.”

“Okay.”

Neil breathes. Andrew smokes. The silence fills spacesbetween them.

Neil cracks an eye open when Matt taps him on the shoulder,holding out a steaming mug. From the smell, it’s a fruity blend from the packof herbal teas Kati had given him as thanks for helping out with hergirlfriend’s move. The mug is hot beneath his fingers so he balances it on hisknee while he resituates his grip to the handle, and raises it to his lips.

Andrew? Matt mouths as he settles onto the other sideof the couch, his own mug of hot chocolate warming his palms. Neil nods,nestling the phone between his ear and his shoulder so he can tap the ringfinger of his opposite hand, an explanation of Andrew’s call. Matt grins aroundthe lip of his mug before taking a sip.

“Tell him if he likes it then he should have put a ring onit.”

Neil frowns, glances down at his hand, and then back up atMatt. He mouths what in return but Matt just flaps his hand at thephone.

“Matt says,” Neil looks at him again and Matt gives him athumbs up, “if you like it then you should have put a ring on it?”

There’s a shuffling sound as Andrew shifts around, thesqueak of a screen door sliding open and closed, before the city noises cut offand the silence takes on a new shape.

“Tell Boyd if he likes his tongue he should keep it in hismouth.”

Neil relays the threat and Matt laughs aloud, his hotchocolate sloshing dangerously close to the rim of his mug. Neil watches him inshock—it’s the first time he can remember seeing Matt find genuine humour inanything one of Andrew’s lot have said.

“Did you just make a joke?” he asks Andrew. He’s not surewhich he’s more caught off guard by: that Andrew made a joke or that Matt foundit funny.

“It wasn’t a joke. It was a warning.”

A cupboard door clips shut from Andrew’s end and Neil hearsthe chink of crockery. He makes eye contact with Matt, who raises his eyebrowsand sips his hot chocolate, before shrugging off his surprise.

“I have to make dinner,” Andrew says. It isn’t a dismissalbut Neil can tell by his voice Andrew doesn’t feel like talking.

“Okay,” he agrees, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Andrew grunts, which is an affirmation in its own way, andhangs up without saying goodbye. Neil drops his phone between his thighs forsafekeeping and takes another drink of his tea. Matt nudges Neil’s shin withhis toe, nodding at the TV.

“You watching that?”

There’s a replay of an Exy match from the previous week, butNeil’s already seen it and it isn’t Andrew or Kevin’s team. He hands Matt theremote in lieu of a response and lets his eyes drift shut on the snippets ofsoaps flashing by as Matt switches channels.

◊

gaynolds: it’s been 8 days since our last b/jnonsense

nickyminaj: is that a record?

gaynolds: i think so

wildz: wild

wildz: get it haha

jos10: What’s b/j nonsense?

gaynolds: it’s you honey

aaminyard: aka every time you message this chateveryone has a stroke

nickyminaj: lmfao tru

jos10: Why?

wildz: u n matt r disasters

wildz: always gttin up 2 crzy shit

nickyminaj: u send the most concerning messages andnever elaborate

jos10: No, we don’t?

gaynolds: NO WE DON’T HE SAYS

nickyminaj: remember when matt and neil’s couch gotripped to shreds by a bird

nickyminaj: and they never explained how

gaynolds: remember when matt and neil got married

renesbian: remember when Neil texted the group chat‘cowabunga’ followed by three hashtags

renesbian: then ten seconds later said he rememberedMatt was visiting Dan and not to worry

wildz: rmbr wen m drank 3L of mntn dew at once

wildz: & n sent a pic of him passed out w ac.board cutout of dolly parton

wildz: y do they hav a c.board cutout of dolly parton

jos10: We can’t recycle her without concerning theneighbours.

renesbian: I think the question is why do you haveher in the first place

jos10: Oh.

jos10: We got her from Dollar Tree.

gaynolds: dollar tree sells cardboard cutouts ofdolly parton ???

jos10: I don’t think she was for sale.

nickyminaj: u STOLE dolly parton from dollar tree

aaminyard: you sound surprised

nickyminaj: i mean yeah

nickyminaj: aren’t u ??

aaminyard: no

gaynolds: no

wildz: no

renesbian: no

nickyminaj: good point

jos10: [image attached]

jos10: She lives in the shower.

gaynolds: that is quite literally the most terrifyingcombination of information/image i’ve ever seen

wildz: 1 time i stayed @ b/j apt & she slept inth bed w me n matt

aaminyard: what the fuck

gaynolds: why did we ever let those two live together

nickyminaj: yeah this has gone too far

wildz: m can move in w me if andrew will take n ??

aminyard: deal.

jos10: Who gets Dolly?

aminyard: never mind I don’t want him.

◊

When Neil wakes up in his and Matt’s apartment on what Mattdubs their ‘roommate-iversary’, the morning feels like a wave, hugging the bayit crashes into and guiding Neil’s breaths through the ebb and flow. A yearstretches across the floorboards, worn smooth under their tread, and laps atthe walls, where they’ve taken to sticking photographs and reminders andsmiley-face messages from one to the other. The world is quiet around him, butfor the buzz of the radio and the familiar pattern of footfalls againstlinoleum floor.

Neil finds Matt in the kitchen, two mugs on the worktop anda pancake flipping through the air towards the pan in his outstretched hand.

“Morning, princess,” Matt says, holding up one of the mugswithout turning. Neil loops his fingers through the handle and around theceramic curve, bringing it to his lips to blow the billow of steam away fromthe rim.

“Morning, sunshine,” he says, leaning against the corner ofthe fridge. The way Matt freezes is almost comedic, like each muscle isolatingand tensing one by one. When he looks up, his gigawatt smile is alreadyplastered over his face, bright enough to dissolve the dreary heaviness of themorning, and Neil’s returning grin bites into his cheeks before he can hold itback. Matt returns to his breakfast with crinkles by his eyes. Neil blowslightly on his coffee and takes a sip.

◊

mattyb has changed their name to sunshine.

jos10 has changed their name to princess.

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#maz.dox #mdb #naj #andreil #fic #remussloopin #answered

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