Chapter Text
Jay has spent the last twenty four fixating on the gold gun hanging in his living room, right over the piano. His eyes were drawn to it every time he walked into the room, every time he played piano, every time he thought of Matt.
He pulls it off the frame, contemplates the weight in his hand, holding it up to his temple just to check it still feels the same. Cold and metallic, impersonal, not a bad way to go all things considered.
Jay remembers the day he found Matt hanging, it felt like all of life itself had been sucked out of the apartment with a vacuum. Matt was heavy in his arms, looking down upon Jay with his shark smile, Jay remembered thinking he looked beautiful. It was a strange inappropriate thought for the occasion that he blamed on the panic. Matt’s floppy, blonde hair had been hanging across his face, his face the picture of angelic youth, soft pink lips and thick eyelashes. He wouldn’t have looked out of place in an art gallery, painted with a glowing yellow halo on his head, bathed in warm light, the devil in his eyes.
He didn’t remember telling Matt where he lived or giving him a time, but he felt Matt would know, would have his ways. Jay longed for a drink, he places the gun down on the piano before playing ‘I Can’t Make You Love Me’. He always thought that song was sort of cheesy, but it felt fitting to this mood.
He’s considering whether taking a Xanax still counts as not being sober, after all the doctor did prescribe it, when the gate buzzer interrupts him. Jay trips over his own feet running to the front door, pressing the button a hundred times so the gate will open quickly. Matt strolls up the driveway, gawking at the extravagant cars.
Jay imagines the manic, borderline delusional boy in his memories, getting to live with him through this. They could have had all the games they wanted, a cinema room where they could watch movies together, cars they could race around the block, bothering the neighbours with the loud engines. Jay realised he had all those things, but he didn’t have his youth anymore, and he didn’t have Matt.
Matt’s knuckle barely connects with the front door before Jay has swung it open, drinking in the sight of him like he was the cold beer Jay was craving.
“Cool house, Bird.” says Matt in genuine awe.
“Uh come in.”
It feels weird to be treating Matt with so much formality. Matt should be barreling through the door like it was his home too.
Jay takes him for a tour through the house, Matt barely bothers to pop his eyes back in his head, openly ogling the chandeliers and marble floors. Jay leads him through the music studio, the games room, and all seven of the guest rooms for guests Jay never seemed to have. They stayed with pristine-made beds, little chocolates on the pillows that had long since expired.
Matt lays down on the bed, spreading starfish while Jay sits awkwardly on the end of the bed.
“Sorry Birdy, I’ll move over.” says Matt, like him taking up too much space was all that was stopping Jay from crawling into the spot next to him.
“No it’s okay. Shoes on the bed.” says Jay, motioning to his feet.
Matt seems totally unaware of the fact he’s got his beat up, muddy Jordans on the expensive silk sheets. Jay doesn’t actually care, he just doesn’t know what he’d do, what’d he say if he crawled onto the bed with Matt, like they were eighteen again dreaming of their future.
“Suit yourself, the beds are really comfortable. I sleep on a fucking bunk bed, I don’t really know how I found myself living with a bunch of nerds in a set of four bunk beds. It feels loserish, like shouldn’t a guy my age have a girlfriend? A life partner?” asks Matt, an edge in his voice. Jay wants him to shut up, maybe he could smother him with the pillow.
“You could have those things, Matt, but you don’t put yourself out there.” says Jay, twiddling with his thumbs.
“Oh, that’s my fault? Maybe I would feel more open to putting myself out there if the last person I gave myself to didn’t stomp my heart into a million pieces.” says Matt sitting up off the bed.
“You’re always saying gay stuff like that and then you wonder why people get freaked out.” snaps Jay, finally looking up at Matt.
Matt laughs darkly, and Jay realises he’s made a mistake. It was so easy to do that with Matt. Jay knew his sore spots and how to hit them. Unfortunately for Jay, he had forgotten about Matt’s seeming omnipotence. Matt knew everything, including how to flay Jay open with a couple of words. Being such good friends for so many years didn’t give Jay the upper hand, Matt knew Jay’s sore spots too.
“Calling me gay is rich! That’s rich coming from you. I heard from a little birdy that you moan my name when you come. You’ve spent the last fifteen years fucking guys and girls alike with floppy blonde hair and big brown eyes. Did you make the connection, Jay? Did you realise it when you were fucking Christie?” Matt is laughing like a super villain, and Jay feels ill.
The last fifteen years suddenly seem laid out in front of Jay in shocking clarity. He closes his eyes, tries to think of one brunette he’s had sex with. There was one but he had dark brown eyes and a pointy nose that reminded him of Matt, fuck, fuck, fuck.
He tries to land on top of Matt, but Matt has wiggled out from under him, he’s faster than Jay, hasn’t completely degraded his reflexes with years of drug and alcohol abuse. Jay is gasping for air as he barrels after Matt. How is Matt so fit? How is Jay so not? He should be able to afford the best personal trainer in the world.
Jay follows Matt into the loungeroom, where Matt is standing on the piano, golden gun in hand. He’s pointing it down at Jay, a manic look in his eye, grinning from ear to ear.
“Is this thing loaded?”
“Matt, just put the gun down.” Jay says hands on his knees, trying to catch hold of his breath.
“No, I don’t think so.
You think you have the upper hand because you’re rich and you’re famous and you abandoned me but you don’t. I’m not some lost puppy that’s been waiting around for you!” says Matt, crawling down from the piano, brandishing the gun in Jay’s face.
Jay’s heart is racing, his chest pounding. Trust Matt to be the only thing to really make him feel alive in the haze of fast cars, beautiful women and designer drugs.
“Nobody said I had the upper hand, Matt!” says Jay, moving slowly like Matt was a dog with something he shouldn’t have. Chasing him, fighting him, it was all part of the game, one Jay knew he had already lost.
“They didn’t have to, they didn’t have to, Bird! Why’d you get me to come here? To your home ground, where you’d be able to flex the life you built without me.” says Matt.
“Because I was drunk! I didn’t want to talk to you when I was like that, MJ.” says Jay.
“You’re drunk a hell of a lot.” scoffs Matt, bringing the gun to his side, he sounds sad, dejected. Jay knows it’s not wise to underestimate him, his finger is still itching the trigger.
“I know. I know.” says Jay, trying to cajole him. Why would he invite this maniac over? Nostalgia? Madness? Something unnamed beneath his rib cage?
“Tell me you love me.” Matt says suddenly, he’s clicked the safety off the gun, pointing it at Jay.
“What?” asks Jay incredulously.
“Tell me you love me! Tell me you’ve spent the last fifteen years regretting leaving, tell me you’re not happy, tell me you’ve tried everything to mask the pain and it hasn’t worked.”
“Why? Because you’re waving a gun at me?”
“No, because it’s true!” says Matt.
He’s itching at the trigger again. Jay couldn’t tell where Matt ended and the gun began, both gold-glinting machines of death, able to deliver acquittance to Jay’s suffering with a finality that felt dizzying.
“Fine! Is that what you want to hear? I regret leaving you!” yells Jay, and he realises he doesn’t care if Matt shoots him anymore. It would be a fitting end.
“Tell me you’re sorry.” says Matt, and he’s placing the gun between Jay’s eyes, Jay feels something hot in his stomach.
Matt’s eyes are wild, like dark black holes where Jay can see the mysteries of the universe laid out in front of him. He should ask, why am I not happy? Why was this not enough? Will it ever be enough? Matt blinks and the illusion is broken.
“I’m sorry, Matt, I’m sorry.”
Jay hears a click, he waits for the blinding pain, the emptiness, to explain to whatever is up there that he really didn’t mean to be such a shitty person. When he opens his eyes, he is staring into the red-rimmed eyes of his best friend. They are staring at each other, eye to eye, Matt has put the safety back on the gun, discarded it back to the side.
“You really think I’d actually shoot you, Jaybird?” asks Matt, and Jay shakes his head but his heart is hammering in his ears.
Matt is only inches from Jay’s face, he’s all sweaty from the running and the adrenaline, his hair starting to stick to his forehead, his hat long since lost in the scuffle. Jay pulls Matt in for a hug, pressing his body against his. Jay is now sober enough to register how the soft parts of Matt have turned to rock hard muscle, Jesus, has he spent all this time working out? Jay feels self conscious of his body, still scrawny and skinny, just like it was when he was twenty five.
Matt wraps his arms around Jay’s shoulders, and Jay feels all the adrenaline and tension leave his body. Matt nuzzles his head into Jay’s neck, his face wet from the tears. Matt is running his hands up Jay’s back, and Jay is letting him.
As Matt’s hands move into his hair, he realises Matt is kissing his neck. Jay instinctively leans back a little, let’s Matt continue until he’s kissing at his jaw.
“You need me, don’t you Jaybird?” Matt asks as Jay looks down at him.
“Mh.” agrees Jay, and Matt takes this as confirmation, he pulls Jay’s face in and kisses him.
Jay’s heart picks up, every part of his body sparks up with electricity. Jay wonders if Matt’s kissed anyone in the time they’ve been apart, he doubts it. Matt’s not bad at kissing, but he definitely seems inexperienced in a way that is somewhat endearing to Jay. He tangles his hands in Matt’s curls, grateful that he is not wearing the stupid hat. Matt drops down onto the couch, pulling Jay down so he’s straddling him. Matt grabs him aggressively by the collar, pulling him in, kissing him, working his hands up inside the back of his shirt.
Jay is embarrassed by how hard he’s getting, just from Matt pawing at him like a teenager. Jay had spent so many nights at BDSM clubs, letting beautiful, leather-clad women step on his chest and beat him with whips, but all he needed was Matt. It wasn’t the realisation Jay wanted to have, he should have shoved Matt off when he started on his neck. He was too deep into it now.
“Birdy, I want to… will you get off me… just a second.” says Matt, trying to pull his arms out of his blazer.
Jay leans back, letting Matt wriggle his blazer off. Jay almost passes off as Matt shrugs off the blazer, his biceps are huge, Jay immediately shifts up to grab them.
He kept needing to check this was real, that he wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating while dying of a drug overdose in some alley somewhere. This all seemed stranger than fiction, Matt was here, and he was kissing him, and he looked like he was in the running for a body building competition.
“Are you real, Matt?” Jay asks, squeezing at his arms so hard Matt winces a little.
“Are you on drugs? I told you to be sober-” Matt starts but Jay cuts him off, bringing a finger to his lips
“Be quiet for once.” Jay says, and is kissing Matt again, Matt seems to forget his misgivings and kisses Jay back, grinding his hips upwards to press into Jay’s.
Jay knows if he fucks this up, he’ll be chasing this feeling for the rest of his life, he’ll be chasing the ghost of Matt’s shadow again. He can’t do another fifteen years of that, he can’t go back to wandering his lonely house, jumping at his own shadow. He’d be happy to move back to their shitty little apartment, and spend the rest of his life as Matt’s dog if it meant he would stay.
He needed Matt to carry the hurt, to carry him, he couldn’t do it himself anymore.
“Don’t leave me, Matty.” Jay says, putting on his best whine, the one that used to get Matt to do anything he wanted. He could always use it to get Matt to buy him snacks, or let him use the best controller. He never really had to work very hard to get what he wanted with Matt, just play sad and Matt would run to him, ready to provide in any way he could for his Jaybird.
“I won’t, I’ll stay here tonight. I’ll stay here forever, I’ll move in. You won’t be without me again.” says Matt.
Jay kisses Matt again, and lets him carry him in his strong arms back up to Jay’s room, or really their room now. They would wake up tomorrow, and Jay would make up for the last fifteen years. Matt could choose what they started with, it was what he did best, made decisions. Jay would be okay, and Matt would fix this. He always did.