#look at my driver dawg he’s down horrendous

[valyrfia]

sometimes i like to think about what it would be like to show a picture like this to teenage charles and sit back and slowly watch a resolve form behind his eyes to murder max verstappen before it’s too late

[s1ater]

boy in the rain.

pairings. matt sturniolo x fem!reader

about. one simple offer of a ride home in the rain turns into an unforgettable relationship and sad ending.

warnings. death, swearing, and unedited

ricky rocks. this might be a hit or miss, so don't dawg on me too hard.

pictures of him were plastered everywhere.

your heart was buried deep in your stomach from the moment you saw it and it only sunk deeper and deeper the more the hours past, the voices that rung through your ears, and the solumn feeling that colored the hallways.

dead. he's dead.

believe it, don't believe it, you still searched for his face as each person passed you, in each class that you entered; looked for any sign of him.

but he was dead.

**

you stood beneath the awning of the gas station, gazing out at the summer rain looking to pour itself onto anything and everything unprotected. you frowned hard as you observed, not expecting your walk for a slushy to be intruded on, especially this abruptly. it was a humid night and therefore even more horrendous that such heavy rainfall came to clash.

you sighed, making a move to go back into the grimy gas station when he called out.

“hey, you need a ride?”

you stopped, turning toward the direction of the only car inhabiting the gas stations parking lot, squinting, and indicating a boy in the front driver's seat. he wore a black sweatshirt with the hood pulled up over his head, squinting back at you due to the rain spitting in his face from his rolled down window.

you knew him.

"are you serious?"

you can barely hear his laugh, but it was there, and you almost melted right there to the cement, "yes. c'mon, I won't leave you stranded."

the ten feet you had to walk to his car was horrible, so you were immediately thankful for the offer the moment you slung yourself into his car. he must have been able to tell too by the way his laugh once again rung through your ears, watching you attempt to catch your breath in his passenger seat.

"I'm matt," he smiled from ear to ear in amusement, offering his hand to you as you clutched your sopping wet body.

"I know," you chattered through your teeth, no longer suffering from the everlasting summer heat from outside, but the air conditioner blasting in matt's car. "sturniolo."

"oh, you know," he was still highly entertained by whatever this situation he put himself in, especially by the way you side eyed his hand still waiting for yours. "you cold?"

"no," you lied through your teeth, still shaking.

he smiles, turning the ac off and switching the heat on low, "right. what's your name?"

you felt a sudden chest pain at the question. you had been going to school with matt since the 7th grade. you had classes with him, had seen him outside of school at parties, hangouts. you knew who he was, so why didn't he know who you were?

your frown was obvious, and he couldn't help but have felt that he fucked up, like his question was preposterous and insulting, "moe."

a lie, again. and just like the first, he could tell it was one, once again.

"you go to mountainview, right?"

"yeah."

he nods, and the previous amused smile is gone and a narrowed stare is there to replace it. he's unsure why you lied and why you were suddenly so upset.

"shit, I'm getting your seats wet," you suddenly became hyperaware of your drenched self pressed into his leather seats.

"you're good," he glanced to your lap suddenly, watching you squirm, as if attempting to reposition yourself in some way where you weren't soaking his seats, but you only made yourself look like a fool. "I wouldn't have asked you in the car if I cared so much about my seats."

you smiled sympathetically.

"so, moe, where to?"

**

his locker was heavily decorated. flowers, hearts, cards, pictures of him with friends, pictures of just him. you stood across from it, staring at each individual item that was taped down to show love and sympathy and hope. you glanced down to the palm of your hand, clutching the necklace you held tightly before bringing it right in front of you.

the necklace, or rather locket, swayed back and forth with the golden heart weighing it down.

it was no longer meant to be yours.

"how'd you get that?"

your head cranked to the left where a boy stared you down, his cheeks flushed but vision narrowed down on you, "huh?" you quickly dropped your arm down, shoving the piece into your pocket.

"where'd you get that?"

your eyes widen, realizing this was an exact replica of matt storming toward you, but with longer hair; chris. you felt your heart push up into your throat, feeling yourself backing on your feet the closer he got.

"answer me."

"I'm not sure what you're talking about," you swing around, marching away from him the best you could as he still tried to trail behind you.

"that's matty's."

**

"this rain is going to kill me," you watch his knuckles flex over the railing as he grasped it tightly, leaning over the edge, gazing into the pitch dark. it had been weeks since matt had first picked you up in a rain storm at that gas station, and ironically, once again he had found you.

the two of you now sat in a watchtower in the middle of town that you had taken him to the first night, gazing out at the building lights being blurred by the rain that hadn’t let up in days. matt was impatient by this, you didn’t have to know him well or see him more than a minute to know this.

“why don’t you like the rain?” you laughed silently at him as you watched him grit his teeth, turning back around to face you.

he suddenly looks sad.

you regret asking the question.

"I just lost someone really special to me," his eyes strayed from yours, meeting the wall of rain behind you, "and the day it happened... all it did was rain."

you watch him carefully. his tone was steady but you could tell it took a lot in him to keep it that way.

"I-" his hand reaches for the chain around his neck out of sudden instinct, wrapping his fingers around the golden material. "I can't stand rain, not after that. it makes me feel sick to my stomach. it's all I think about and it's like it's following me."

you feel a sudden push on your body, like a force guiding you to him, "oh, matt-"

"y/n-"

"I'm sorry," you ignore the short sound of protest, finding yourself attaching to him with your arms wrapped around his neck. "I'm sorry."

his body is stiff and cold and you can tell that everything in him is trying to resist the warmth of your own. he wants to not want it, but he fails the resistance and every voice in his head telling him he was fine and the hug was a ridiculous gesture. he fails, allowing the barrier of your warmth to immerse into him, accepting the hug that was really far from ridiculous, but needed.

**

you weren't going to go.

after your small encounter with chris, you were practically setting yourself up by attending matt's funeral. but you couldn't not go, not after everything.

that morning it had rained.

that had been a first since one of the last days of summer. the rain had glistened everything, made everything seem so renewed and bright and so fresh for a november evening.

it took a lot for you to walk through those doors, walk up those stairs, and even sit down to watch the service. you could barely sit there for a second before walking right back out onto the front steps.

you feel suffocated. you claw at your chest, digging your fingers against your skin before they find the locket--looping your fingers against the golden chain out of instinct—like he did. you dip your head backwards, inhaling strongly, trying to breathe the images of matt away from your mind.

bad idea.

especially when you realize you're not the only one on the front steps.

“you’re moe, aren’t you?”

you look down and the feeling in your chest becomes worse.

chris stares up at you from where he sits on the cement steps. you can't tell what the look in his eyes are, but it's nothing you find enjoyment in--especially when they mirror matt's exact pupils, his exact iris', his exact color...

you feel deeply disturbed that he looks at you with something that matt never did.

“yeah…”

he scoffs, running his hand down his mouth, "yeah... great."

"how'd you know?"

"that's our mother's chain, y/n," he looks back around and ahead of him, but still mindlessly points back at the golden locket around your neck. "she gave it to matt before she passed."

oh.

oh. oh. oh god.

"but I'm sure he told you if he gave it to you."

no, he didn't.

"how'd you know I was moe?"

he laughs a little, genuine as he digs the heel of his palm into his eyes, "moe; 'heaven', 'rain', and 'sky' from burmese origins. he knew you were lying the moment you told him that, but he didn't know why or even why 'moe'?" you smiled to yourself. "had us up all night looking up the meaning of 'moe' and decided it had to be that. met in the rain, name means rain."

"clever," you whispered, slowly taking a seat next to chris. "couldn't keep anything anyway from him."

"yeah or you're just shit at lying," he scoffs, glancing at you. "but it's funny you tried."

"funny I tried," you mumbled to yourself, shaking your head, as if laughing at yourself.

you knew about chris and you knew about nick, just like you had known matt before you actually knew him. but getting to know matt, was also like getting to know his two other triplets. he told you everything.

and because of that, he told you about chris.

"I should give this to you," you find yourself reaching behind your neck, unclasping the locket from your neck. "it belongs to you."

he told you how chris never took anything seriously, he told you how chris was really good at brightening a room because of it, and he told you how angry chris was when matt was the one given the locket and not him.

it made a lot more sense now that that friend was actually their mother.

chris glanced at you before doing a double take, realizing what you were doing. his eyes softened fast at the sight of the heart swinging back and forth between the two of you. he didn't take it. you were both sitting there, watching the priceless piece hold there for the taking, and he still didn't take it.

"y/n," his voice is soft and almost sympathetic, but his eyes are still trained tightly on the piece of jewelry. "that's-that's, I can't take that."

but no matter how angry chris was about the locket, he accepted it wasn't his. and what wasn't his, he wouldn't take.

"what do you mean?"

"matty gave that to you. it's yours."

"but I don't deserve it."

"y/n," he shakes his head, pushing the necklace back to you. "it's yours now, okay? there's a reason matt was given that locket and there's a reason it was given to you, okay? I don't need it," he shakes his head, his eyes wide and red. "I don't need it."

you feel your eyes burn. the desperate sound of chris' voice makes you want to burst out into tears. you don't know what to do, and he can tell. he takes the locket, but not for reasons you want.

"here," you watch chris dig into his suit before pulling out an envelope. "before... everything," he coughs a little, beginning to feel his throat closing up. "matt wrote you something."

all icy provision from before has melted. his whole body is turned all the way to face you now, no longer to you as a stranger, but someone he understands.

"take it," he paired the envelope with the necklace before pushing it to you. "read it when it rains."

**

"you ever get sick of me?"

it was a month and half into the school year and what you thought was only going to be a summer friendship, blossomed into something else.

your question made matt arch a brow, questioning if you were being serious, "what?"

"I mean day and night, we're the only people that see each other. how do your friends not hate you?"

it was true. you rarely ever saw matt at school unless in the halls or even on small occasions of going to lunch together, but it was like every time after that, he was at your house. matt valued his time and when it was open and free, he always spent it with you.

you had had this conversation before, multiple times. you were always the one who started them.

"I could never get sick of you."

the only reason you questioned it so often was because of how different you and matt were. the two of you becoming friends and being as close as you were was the most unlikely thing you could ever think of. the two of you had no connections what so ever in friends, hobbies, or even classes. your lives rarely ever crossed beyond in the hallways or parties.

"you act like we're not friends," he crashes onto your living room couch, slightly amused. "you're my best friend."

you feel your face burn at the comment. it paralyzes you more than it should. you also considered matt to be your best friend, but it still catches you off guard hearing the words aloud. you're not sure what to say.

"im not yours?"

"you are."

"I figured," he's grinning now, "just making sure."

it's silent.

"I value our time a lot, you know that," you've heard this a million times, but you could never get sick of it. "we don't know how much time we get with someone, so it's important to me to fill my time with someone I care about."

you finally take a seat next to him, watching him with a ghost of a smile on your face as he speaks.

we don't know how much time we get with someone.

"I want to give you this."

you watch as matt brings his hands behind his neck, unclasping the chain that you had became so accustomed to seeing around his neck.

your mouth slightly opens, "what?"

"I want you to-"

"matt, that's-" you shake your head, cutting yourself off. you couldn't even process this gesture. "I can't take that from you."

"you can."

you really couldn't. the first time you had seen the locket was the first time he had told you about why he didn't like the rain. he had clutched onto it like a safety net. after that, that necklace was all you could see on him half the time. it took him two months for him to tell you what it was and that was exactly why you couldn't take it from him.

"I can't, matty."

"why?"

"because it's yours and I can't take something that was given to you--especially if it was by someone who mattered a lot to you."

he looks as if he thinks about it, his eyes lowering down, looking to the gold heart, before back up to you, "yeah..."

even if you were right, he didn't care. the piece was always significant to him, but there was a point in time where he was ready to let it go--hence why he left it on your kitchen counter without your knowledge.

**

moe,

I know you're already laughing at me, wondering why you're reading something I could easily say over the phone. but I know you’ll eat this up, even if you like to think it's corny.

you were never someone I thought I needed. from the moment I received that locket from my mother, was the moment I was ready to give up. my mother was my best friend and someone who taught me everything that matters.

you remind me of her--in the least weirdest way possible. you made me what I missed, you were exactly what I needed and wanted.

you keep me sane and well structured. I used to hate getting up in the morning, but after that moment, in the watch tower, when you hugged me even as we were strangers, I couldn't wait to wake up to see your face again.

I felt like a fool. I felt like how chris probably feels everyday. it's a feeling I hope I never forget or never leaves me.

you are special. you are worth all the time in the world. the day I forget that or the day I forget my priorities is a day i'm dead.

I hope to never lose you or whatever it is we have, and if I do, moe, my sweet, sweet moe, I'll find you in the rain.

matty.