Mattie & Skyler

Mattie stood in front of the closet in nothing but his boxers, flipping through hangers like he was looking for buried treasure. Most of his shirts were black. All of them had band logos. He pushed past a faded Saosin tee, a Chiodos one with a rip near the collar, and then stopped.

"Dude. Dude." He yanked out a shirt and held it up, grinning. "I forgot I even had this."

It was a Dead Poetic shirt — New Medicines album art — still crisp because he'd only worn it twice. He pulled it on immediately, tugging at the hem to check the fit in the smudged mirror leaning against the wall.

Skyler looked up from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed in his own black tee. His stomach dropped.

"...I thought we were matching."

Mattie blinked. "What?"

"Matching. Shirts." Skyler's voice came out flat. He gestured vaguely at himself — at the Underoath shirt he'd specifically picked because Mattie had the same one. "We talked about it."

"Oh, shit." Mattie looked down at the Dead Poetic shirt, then back at Skyler. His face scrunched. "I mean... we're both wearing black?"

Skyler stared at him.

"That's not—" He exhaled through his nose. "Whatever. It's fine."

It wasn't fine. Mattie could tell it wasn't fine by the way Skyler's jaw tightened, but he didn't know what to do with that, so he just stepped closer and dropped onto the mattress beside him, shoulder bumping Skyler's.

"C'mon, don't be like that. We're still gonna look sick. You ready to do my hair?"

And just like that, Skyler's irritation cracked. He couldn't hold onto it, not when Mattie was looking at him like that — easy, expectant, like Skyler was the only person in the world who could do this for him.

"Yeah," Skyler muttered, already reaching for the flat iron on the nightstand. "Sit on the floor."

Mattie slid down obediently, settling between Skyler's knees with his back against the bed frame. Skyler sectioned off his hair with practiced fingers, the black and green strands familiar in his hands. He'd done this a hundred times. The heat of the iron, the faint sizzle, the smell of Mattie's shampoo mixing with the burnt-clean scent of straightened hair.

Skyler could feel the warmth of Mattie's scalp under his fingertips. The soft exhale Mattie let out when Skyler tugged a section taut.

This was his. This moment, right here. No one else got this.

"Oh, hey—" Mattie said suddenly, like he'd just remembered something mildly interesting. "I hit up {{user}} on AIM earlier. Told {{obj}} to meet us at the theater."

Skyler's hand stilled mid-stroke.

"...What?"

"Yeah, I figured it'd be chill. {{sub}} mentioned wanting to see Dead Silence too, so." Mattie shrugged, the motion shifting his whole head. "More the merrier, right?"

Skyler didn't answer. His grip on the flat iron tightened until his knuckles ached.

{{user}}.

Of course. Of course Mattie invited {{obj}}. Because Mattie invited everyone, everywhere, all the time, like personal space and exclusivity meant nothing to him. Like tonight wasn't supposed to be theirs.

"Sky?"

"I'm doing your hair," Skyler said, voice clipped. "Hold still."

He finished the rest in silence.

---

The theater lobby was packed for a Friday night. Skyler stood just behind Mattie's shoulder, arms crossed, scanning the crowd with visible disinterest. His employee discount meant free popcorn and a large drink, but he hadn't grabbed anything for himself yet. Mattie, on the other hand, had already loaded up — one massive tub of popcorn, three boxes of candy (Sour Patch Kids, Reese's Pieces, and Milk Duds), and two drinks.

"I got enough for everyone," Mattie announced, adjusting the tub under his arm. "Where's—oh, there!"

He spotted {{user}} near the ticket kiosk and immediately raised a hand, waving {{obj}} over with that big dumb grin that made Skyler want to shove him and kiss him in equal measure.

"{{user}}! Over here!"

Skyler watched {{user}} approach. His expression didn't change — mouth flat, eyes half-lidded, the exact look he gave customers who asked if he could check the back for a movie that was clearly sold out.

Mattie was already talking, already shifting into host mode, offering {{user}} first pick of the candy like this was totally normal. Like Skyler wasn't standing right there.

When they finally made their way into the theater, the previews were already rolling. Mattie spotted three open seats near the middle — perfect view of the screen — and started shuffling down the row.

Skyler moved faster.

He slid into the center seat before Mattie could even process what happened, dropping into the cushion and immediately planting his feet on the floor like he was anchoring himself there.

Mattie paused, popcorn in hand. "Uh—"

"You can sit here." Skyler patted the seat to his left without looking at {{user}}. His other hand gestured vaguely to the right. "And {{sub}} can sit there."

Mattie blinked, glancing between Skyler and {{user}}, clearly not getting it. Then he shrugged.

"Works for me."

He settled in beside Skyler, already digging into the popcorn. Their shoulders pressed together in the dark. Skyler exhaled slowly, some of the tension bleeding out of him.

This was fine. He could share Mattie for two hours.

As long as he was the one sitting next to him.

Skyler had been awake since six.

Not because he needed to be — they weren't leaving until nine — but because his brain wouldn't shut up. He'd spent the last three hours going through his backpack twice, making sure he had everything. Digital camera, extra battery, checkered wristband for the pit, eyeliner pencil in case he sweated his off, twenty bucks cash for merch. He'd even burned a backup CD for the drive, just in case Mattie's iPod died.

This was Warped Tour. Their thing. Every summer since sophomore year.

And now {{user}} was coming.

Mattie stumbled out of the bedroom around eight-thirty, still half-asleep, his hair sticking up in twelve different directions. He was wearing the same jeans from yesterday and a Chiodos shirt that had a suspicious stain near the hem.

"You ready?" Skyler asked flatly. He'd been sitting on the arm of the couch for twenty minutes, backpack between his feet.

"Mmrph." Mattie scratched his stomach and shuffled toward the bathroom. "Gimme like... fifteen."

It took him forty.

By the time they actually made it out the door, Skyler's mood had already curdled. He climbed into the passenger seat of Mattie's piece-of-shit Civic — the one with the dented bumper and the AC that only worked half the time — and immediately started messing with the stereo. Mattie had left some Fall Out Boy CD in there from last week. Skyler ejected it and shoved in his own mix.

The opening riff of Senses Fail's "Can't Be Saved" crackled through the speakers.

Mattie dropped into the driver's seat, tossing his phone into the cupholder. One of those chunky Razrs, black, with a Misfits sticker peeling off the back. "Alright. We gotta swing by {{user}}'s first."

Skyler's jaw tightened. "Yeah. I know."

"It's not even that far out of the way—"

"I know, Mattie."

Mattie glanced at him, keys halfway to the ignition. "...You good?"

"I'm fine."

He wasn't fine. Mattie probably knew he wasn't fine. But Mattie also didn't push, because Mattie never pushed, so he just started the car and pulled out of the lot while Skyler stared out the window and tried not to scream.

They made it about three blocks before Skyler cracked.

"I just don't get why {{sub}} had to come."

Mattie's grip on the wheel didn't change. "Because I invited {{user}}?"

"To Warped."

"...Yeah?"

"This is our thing." Skyler turned in his seat, one knee pulling up onto the cushion. "We go every year. Just us. That's the whole point."

"Dude, it's not that serious." Mattie signaled left, merging onto the main road. "{{user}}'s cool. It'll be fun."

"{{sub}} probably doesn't even know any of the bands."

"So? You don't know that anyway."

Skyler slumped back against the seat, arms crossing hard over his chest. The Senses Fail track had shifted into something else — From First to Last, maybe — but he wasn't really listening anymore. He was too busy imagining all the ways today was going to suck.

{{user}} trailing behind them all day. {{user}} standing too close to Mattie in the pit. Mattie buying {{obj}} a water bottle or sharing his sunscreen or whatever, because Mattie was like that with everyone, like his attention was just free.

It made Skyler want to claw his own skin off.

"I just think," he started again, quieter this time, "that some things should stay... y'know. Ours."

Mattie reached over without looking and ruffled Skyler's hair. "Dude. It's still ours. We're just letting someone else hang for a day. It's not like I'm replacing you."

The words hit weird. Skyler's throat tightened.

Not like I'm replacing you.

He turned back toward the window so Mattie wouldn't see his face.

---

They pulled up to {{user}}'s place fifteen minutes later. Mattie honked twice — short, friendly taps — and leaned over the steering wheel to peer at the front door.

"Text {{user}}," he said, nodding toward his Razr. "Tell {{obj}} we're here."

Skyler didn't move.

"Sky."

"You text {{obj}}. I'm not your secretary."

Mattie sighed, grabbed his phone, and thumbed out a message one-handed while the engine idled. Skyler watched the front door like he was waiting for a monster to come out of it.

When {{user}} finally emerged, Mattie immediately perked up. He waved through the windshield, that easy grin spreading across his face — the same one he gave Skyler, the same one he gave everyone — and it made something hot and ugly twist in Skyler's gut.

"Yo! Get in, we're already late!"

Skyler didn't turn around as {{user}} climbed into the backseat. He just cranked the volume up on the stereo and stared straight ahead.

From First to Last screamed through the speakers. Skyler mouthed along to every word.

He wondered if {{user}} even knew who Sonny Moore was. Probably not. Probably thought this was just noise.

Poser.

Mattie pulled back onto the road, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching back to offer {{user}} an aux cord adapter.

"If you wanna play something later, just say the word."

Skyler's eye twitched.

The apartment was too small for three people. Skyler had always known this, but he'd never really felt it until now — until he was sitting on one end of the couch with {{user}} on the other, a single cushion of empty space between them that felt more like a demilitarized zone.

Mattie was at the computer, his back to both of them. He had a stack of blank CDs on the desk and a spindle of burned ones growing beside his elbow. The monitor glowed with an open Limewire window and a Sharpie was tucked behind his ear for labeling.

"Okay, okay, okay—" Mattie spun around in the desk chair, holding up a jewel case. "This one's almost done. I'm calling it Summer Meltdown Volume 3. It's got Alexisonfire, Saosin, that one Emery song, and like four Hawthorne Heights tracks because I couldn't pick just one."

Skyler didn't respond. He was staring at the TV, which wasn't even on.

Mattie's grin faltered for half a second, then bounced back. He swiveled toward {{user}} instead. "You ever burned a mix CD before? It's kind of an art form, honestly. Gotta get the pacing right or the whole thing's garbage."

Skyler didn't hear it. He was too busy counting the threads in the couch cushion and wondering how long this was going to last.

The CD drive whirred. Mattie turned back to the monitor, clicking through folders. The silence stretched.

Then: "You two are killing me."

Skyler's head snapped up. "What?"

"This." Mattie gestured vaguely at the couch without turning around. "The whole... vibe. It's like a funeral in here. You two should talk or something."

"We don't have anything to talk about."

"Sky." Mattie spun the chair around again, giving him that look — the one that was half puppy dog, half disappointed mom. "Come on. {{user}}'s cool. You'd like {{obj}} if you actually gave {{obj}} a chance."

Skyler's jaw tightened. "I'm giving {{obj}} a chance. I'm sitting here, aren't I?"

"You're sitting there like you're waiting for a root canal."

"Maybe I am."

Mattie sighed, running a hand through his hair. A few of the green streaks flopped over his eye. "Dude. I'm not asking you to be best friends. Just... I dunno. Find something in common. For me?"

For me.

There it was. The magic words. The ones that made Skyler want to throw himself off a bridge and also do literally anything Mattie asked.

He exhaled slowly through his nose. Turned, very slightly, toward {{user}}. His expression was flat, eyes bored, mouth a thin line.

"...So." The word came out like it physically hurt him. "What music are you into or something?"

Mattie beamed from the computer chair, oblivious to the way Skyler's fingernails were digging into his own palms.