Rating: PG-13 now for language, adult situations, will lean more to R (or possibly NC-17) in later chapters
POV: Matt’s and occasionally the 3rd person
Pairing: implied Derek x Travis, Matt x Sonny
Summary: Matt is 18 and his brother Evan (http://community.livejournal.com/fftlo
Disclaimer: NOT true. Happened in my head, obviously…
Author’s Note: THANK YOU so fucking much to anybody (and everybody) who reads/comments my stories!! I appreciate it SO much!!! ^_^
Chapter 1: http://mcr-blue-canary.livejournal.c
Chapter 2: http://mcr-blue-canary.livejournal.c
Chapter 3: http://mcr-blue-canary.livejournal.c
Chapter 4: http://mcr-blue-canary.livejournal.c
So Sonny was ‘in;’ we still tease him more than we do each other, but he doesn’t care. He mocks us as well. We quickly discovered what really sets him off though: comments about his short-ness, his ‘blemishes’ and his nose. Accordingly, we gave him the nickname “Nosy,” which he doesn’t respond to. Overall, things have been going well as summer nears to a close—which means I should’ve expected something to go awry.
The other day I had went to the mall with the guys and got a new (mildly expensive—I could tell when Sonny’s eyes bulged out of his head) pair of pants at Hot Topic. When we hung out the next day, I wore them. During that time I managed to get a nice little hole in the knee. I also royally pissed off Sonny by calling him “Nosy” and not letting up on the short jokes.
When Sonny and I came home from that escapade, mom saw me.
“Matt are those your new pants?!” she yells.
“Yeah, kinda…” I say.
“What the hell?” she continues. Sonny makes himself invisible; he doesn’t want to be involved in this.
“Shut up, I bought them.” I affirm, hoping to end this soon.
“With what money, huh? Money from me!” she berates.
“I worked for it.”
“Like hell you did! You don’t do shit around this house!”
“Bullshit!” I scream, “I fuckin’ did the damn dishes, mowed the damn lawn, and vacuumed the damn place!”
“Evan did that.”
This angers me to no end. Everything good I do she always says it’s Evan! And everything bad is always me!
“He did fucking not!” I yell
“All you do is ruin shit!”
“I bought the damn pants, mom!”
“Not just the pants, moron, you ruin everything and you try to blame your brother!”
“Sometimes St. Evan does shit, too, you dumb bitch!”
“It’s never your fault, Matt, you’re such a brat!”
“Oh, fuck off,” I’m tired of this shit.
“I wish you were never born!” she shrieks.
“Your fault.” I mutter.
“I wanted to get an abortion; hell, I planned on it!”
“Great planning.” I mumble.
“I had all the money; I went to the clinic and the damn doctor said it would be an extra hundred bucks! By the time I got the cash, it was too late in the pregnancy!”
“Then why didn’t you put me up for adoption?” I ask.
“And put that burden on someone else?! You really are selfish. You’re a curse, a mistake—that’s all you’ve ever been! You’ve ruined my life! I hate you!” Tears of anger flow down her face, as she clenches her teeth.
My eyes are wide as the depth of the words sink in. I turn in silence and head upstairs. I go to my room; Sonny is there, but I ignore him and flop on my bed.
So my whole life I’ve been nothing but a burden. There wasn’t ever a moment that my mother loved me—that explains the lack of pictures of me when I was little. $100: that’s all my life is worth, that’s all that kept me alive, all that allowed me to exist. I can hardly remember mother being happy, although I heard stories from the family of how she always used to smile genuinely. I was the plague of her life. She would be happy if I died or disappeared. I start to recall the little things that made it oh-so-obvious.
I remember the times when I wouldn’t come home for days; she was never worried. She never was protective; she didn’t give me giant lectures about how dangerous strangers were. She never hung up the pictures I drew when I was a kid—the fridge was always too full of Evan’s pictures. She let me trick-or-treat alone whereas she always went with Evan. She never defended me; she readily blamed me. She never read me bedtime stories and if she did tuck me in, it was always too tight. She didn’t want Evan to ever have my hand-me-downs. I don’t even remember the last time she hugged me. Hell, I don’t ever remember her kissing me. I was never loved.
Suddenly I feel so alone.
I haven’t been lying there long, and feel Sonny crawl into bed next to me, my back towards him. He hugs me.
“Oh, fuck you,” I mumble. Part of me wants to be alone and the other part is almost glad he’s there. He hugs me a little tighter, his head on my shoulder.
“Fuck off,” I repeat. He brushes the hair out of my face, but makes no other attempts to move.
“C’mon, go away,” I whisper. I don’t want him to see me cry. He moves away and I immediately miss the contact. I feel him shifting, one hand on the bed, the other on my side. Soon he flops down beside me again—this time he’s facing me. I didn’t think there would have been enough room, but he fit fine. He looked me in the eyes.
“You heard,” I mutter. He gives me a sad smile and kisses my nose.
“I’ll be here for you,” he says quietly.
I feel the hot tears welling in my eyes. I try to hold them back, but to no avail. A single tear falls from my eye and I instantly hope he won’t notice.
Without a word, he leans in and kisses my tear away. I hug him tightly and I let go. I cry as I hold him. He hugs me and pets my back, occasionally running his hands through my hair.
“One hundred dollars,” I sob, “that’s all that kept me alive. That’s all my life is worth.”
“I’m worthless!” I squeeze him tighter.
“No, you’re not. Just because you have a bad family doesn’t make you bad.”
“I’m a curse, why do you care?”
“You’re destined to be great.”
“Yeah, there’s a saying in my country that all great leaders come from bad family. Like you call ‘broke house.’”
“‘Broken home,’” I correct.
“Yes, that’s it!”
“What does coming from a broken home have to do with being great?”
“Because of the bad family, they take things on their own; they make themselves great.”
“Or they could just be criminals.” I sigh, my tears subsiding.
He thinks about this, “But not you. You be great.”
“Ah, yeah, ok.”
“No really; you will”
“Bet you a hundred bucks I won’t.”
“I bet you your first boy kiss.”
“Huh?” I question. As soon as that word leaves my mouth, Sonny’s lips are on mine, giving me a sweet, tender kiss, his hands on my cheeks. My eyes widen as he has taken me off guard.
He pulls back and says; “Now you have obligation.”
“I…I...you…just…ah…” I stutter.
“I kissed you.” He says matter-of-factly.
“You be best guitar player in the world,” He spreads his hands out to signify ‘world.’
“And you’ll be my groupie.” I smile a little, starting to feel a bit better.
“You pay me?” he jokes.
I frown, “You work free.”
“Well, then you feed me?” He pouts.
“If you’re good.”
“I’m always good.”
“Oh yeah, we’ll just hafta see about that…” I lean in and kiss him again, my hands cupping his face. His lips are soft and the metal piercings make the kiss all the more exciting. His lips part slightly to allow my tongue entrance. As our tongues touch I unconsciously pull him closer. His kisses are simple yet passionate—I could spend hours just like this. It was enough to make me forget about the pain and rejection…
I don’t know exactly how long we spent just kissing on my bed, but eventually we had to come up for air. When we do, we look into each other’s eyes and smile. I pull him as close as possible, cuddling into him. We lay in silence for a moment.
“Hey, Sonny,” I whisper, embarrassed, “I’m sorry about being an ass before…”
“It’s ok. Just American man thing: must act bad in front of your friends. Got to look like a ‘man,’ right?”
“Uh…um…I guess…” I look away. I feel like less of a man now. He caught on right away, just like he did with our original plan. One thing’s for sure: he’s definitely not stupid. But I didn’t want to look like a sap in front of the guys…
“So, why do you kiss me when you say I am short with big nose and ugly face?” he asks with a sly smile.
I blush, “Okay,” I admit, “I thought you were hot went I first saw you, but I thought you’d be one of those guys whose pretty and knows it…”
He bursts out laughing.
“Don’t worry,” he giggles, “I’m not into myself…”
“Well, I know that now.”
He smiles, “Cutie.” He pokes my nose. “Um, Matt, do you really think I’m pretty?”
I put my hand under his chin and lift his chin upwards so as to kiss him again.
“Does that answer your question?” I ask, cuddling him. He smiles. I hold him for a while like that before I break the silence.
“Um, so how’d you know that was my first…um…‘boy kiss?’”
“Well, I saw your reaction to me kissing Travis. From that look, I could tell…was I right?”
“Good,” He smiles.
“Y’know, one a these days, you're gonna be wrong…”
“About you? Never!” He jokes
“Yep,” I try to think of something to do to catch him off guard. I bite his hair. He laughs.
“What are you doing?”
“You tell me,” I say, his hair still in my mouth. He giggles, pulls his hair from my mouth and cuddles against me. For a few minutes, we lay in a comfortable silence again, and again, it is me that breaks it.
“Tomorrow is the first day of school.”
“Yes,” He replies sleepily.
I decide to let him sleep. It’s siesta time for Sonnys. I like having him lying against me, using me as a pillow. I’m perfectly comfortable with him; I feel like I can be myself—I’ve never had a relationship before like that…
Oh, well, I move to set the alarm clock, making sure not to disturb him. Already I dread the morning…