3. Matty
Chapter three
S hit, shit. Xed’s definitely mad at me.
I hadn’t meant to stay out this long—really, I hadn’t. But Valerie gets pissed if I try to leave before she tells me I can, and an angry Val gets violent. So, I stayed. Watched some god-awful chick flick about notebooks or something. Couldn’t even tell you what the plot was about because the whole time, all I could think about was getting home to Xed.
Hopefully, what’s in my backpack will make up for it.
Adjusting the strap higher on my shoulder, I creep up the sidewalk to his aunt’s house, trying—and failing—to be stealthy. My feet feel too big and clunky against the pavement, each step louder than the last.
When I got home earlier and saw the bed empty, it hit me harder than I’d expected. I wanted to crawl in next to Xed, bury my face in his hair, and just be . It’s all I’ve thought about today. Hell, I almost did it after his track meet earlier, but Taylor and Christian were right there, and I didn’t want them to see.
No one’s business what Xed and I do in the dark.
Which is only cuddling , I tell my dick. The bastard’s been waking me up recently, hard as hell and pressed into Xed’s back. Luckily, he sleeps like the dead, or things would be fucking awkward. I blame it on needing to get lucky, which is why I went to Val tonight, despite how much she makes me feel like shit.
Swear I nearly threw my back out trying to make us both come, and she just...laid there. With her arms crossed. Even yawned at one point and said I was queer for losing my boner. And then when I got emotional after I came—which happens every damn time—she called me a pussy.
Cringing at the memory, I sneak around to the back of the cottage-style house, where a lattice fence covered in vines climbs up the siding. Xed’s window is on the second floor, but so is his aunt’s. Waking her up is the last thing I want. She’s elderly and ailing, sure, but she’s also downright vile.
If Xed weren’t stuck in her custody, I’d have moved him into my place ages ago. My parents wouldn’t mind. They love him like one of their own. Plus, they’re barely home anyway. As travel nurses, they’re always off somewhere, leaving Jenna and me with the house to ourselves.
Testing the fence, I place my weight on it cautiously. It’s been years since I’ve done this—probably not since I was twelve—but it seems to hold. Encouraged, I climb up, step by step until I reach a shutter near the kitchen window.
Then it happens.
A loud crack splits the night as the shutter drifts beneath my foot. My balance vanishes, and I slip, slamming into the side of the house.
“Shitfuck! Goddamn!”
Scrambling for purchase, I cling to the lattice like my life depends on it. Above me, a hinge groans, and I lift my head to see Xed leaning out of his window. His wide brown eyes are blazing with equal parts fury and disbelief .
“What the fuck are you doing?”
“I think I broke something. Help me up,” I grunt, reaching out as my muscles scream from the effort of hanging onto the fence.
Xed glares, then sighs in exasperation. “You really think I can pull you up, Sasquatch? You’re a fucking mountain, and I’m maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet.”
But he tries anyway, bless him. His slim hands grip my arm, and he heaves with all his might.
What ends up happening, though, is my dumbass yanking him straight out of the window. Xed’s shocked yelp mingles with mine as I let go to grab him, sending us both crashing into the hydrangeas.
“Ow, fuck.” Pain shoots up my back, and a wheeze escapes as Xed’s body slams into me, knocking the air clean out of my lungs.
“Why, Matty?” he growls, sitting up with his legs straddling my hips. “What did I do to deserve this?”
“God, I’m gonna hurt in the morning,” I groan, wincing.
Xed folds his arms, squinting down at me. “Are you bleeding?”
“Um.” I pause, doing a quick mental scan. “Not on the outside.”
“Then you’ll live,” he deadpans, blowing a stray strand out of his face. His hair is flat from sleep, falling in messy sheets over one side. “You could’ve just texted me instead of breaking shit. Who do you think’s gonna get blamed for the shutters and flowers, asshole?”
Guilt twists my stomach, making it churn. Sitting up quickly, I wrap my arms around him before he can squirm away. “Shit, Xed, I—I’m sorry. I didn’t think. You weren’t at home, and I just… I needed to see you. Is she… is s he gonna—"
“It’s fine,” he cuts me off, his gaze falling to the ground. “She took her pills, and they knocked her out. I’ll just make something up. Like… a gust of wind. Or the Hamburglar .”
But he’s still upset. I can feel it in the way his body stays rigid against mine, his arms folded tightly. And I know it’s not about the hydrangeas.
Reaching up, I tangle my fingers in his soft hair, pressing our foreheads together. “I’m sorry, Ducky. Val wanted me to stick around, and I’d feel like a dick if I just bounced.”
“Don’t call me that,” he snaps, pulling back to glare at me. “And it doesn’t matter. You can do what you want.”
“Got you something,” I say, shrugging off the crushed backpack. Unzipping it, I pull out the sign I stole off the side of the road. “Would’ve been home sooner, but this one took some effort. You’re less noticeable than me. I had to hide every time a car drove by.”
His brows furrow as he takes the sign from my hands.
“ No Dumping ? ”
I laugh, grinning widely. “Yeah. We can hang it in our bathroom.”
“Are you twelve?” His lips twitch, pulling down at the corners as he fights a smile.
Taking the sign back, I grab his hands to place them on my face. “I really am sorry. Forgive me?”
Xed watches me with those big brown eyes, flecks of gold flickering in the moonlight, his thumbs brushing gently over my cheekbones. After a moment, he shrugs, half-hearted.
“I guess.”
Relief floods through me as I stuff the sign into my bag before standing up with him still in my arms. “Let’s go home, baby duck. ”
“I’m not a fucking duck. Cut it out with that shit.” He wraps his legs around my waist to keep from falling, grumbling into my neck. “And I am home.”
I disagree with both statements but don’t say a word as I carry him down the street to my car.
His home is wherever I am. He’s known it since the day he followed me into my house in the fourth grade—like a lost little duck.
And he’s been mine ever since.
Once we’re both buckled in, I roll down the windows and blast " Are You Really Okay?" by Sleep Token. The music floods the car, but Xed sits with his arms folded, body angled away from me. With a sigh, I pry one of his hands free and thread our fingers together.
He rolls his eyes and huffs but doesn’t pull away. Instead, he gives my hand a small squeeze, and I don’t let go until we pull up in front of my parents’ house. They’re both away for work, and Jenna’s gone for the night, so the place is ours.
Xed says nothing as we walk through the front door, kicking off his boots in the living room like always. He disappears down the hall, and I hear the fridge door open before he calls out, “Want a soda?”
“No, but I want a sip of yours.”
Untying my sneakers, I line them neatly against the wall, fixing Xed’s boots next to them. My gaze drifts to the family photo hanging above the couch. Mom, Dad, Jenna, and I are all grinning in bright colors while Xed scowls in black, standing right next to me.
I fucking love that picture. We had it done last summer, and I keep meaning to get one printed for my wallet .
Xed reappears, soda in hand, and scoffs as he follows me downstairs to my room. “You say you just want a sip, but then you guzzle the whole thing.”
“I’m a thirsty boy. Sue me.”
Reaching up, I tug the string hanging from the ceiling, and the bare bulb in my basement room flickers on. I drop my backpack onto the unmade bed and pull out the sign I stole earlier. The walls are lined with others, nailed to exposed beams since the basement isn’t finished.
Mom and Dad bought the house when they had Jenna, but with only two bedrooms, this space became mine when I was old enough. Well, mine and Xed’s. I don’t mind the concrete floors or cobwebs—it’s ours.
“This was in the trash at my aunt’s,” Xed mutters, pulling a crumpled piece of paper from his jacket pocket. He shoves it into my hands without looking at me.
I smooth it out on my desk, my eyes immediately locking on the official seal at the top, followed by his name.
Alexander Velasco,
On behalf of the entire University of Utah community, we are pleased to offer you…
The first few words make my heart leap, and before I know it, I’m spinning around and lifting Xed into the air with a shout.
“See? I told you! Fuck yeah, Xed! We’re going to college together!”
“Put me down,” he grumbles, but there’s no hiding the way his lips twitch like he’s fighting a smile. “It’s not that big of a deal. ”
“What the hell?” I set him back on the floor, staring at him like he just said the dumbest shit imaginable—because he did. “Xed, this is huge . You just got accepted for a grant!”
Both he and our friend Salem have been taking college classes concurrently since last year, they’re both on track to graduate high school with their Associate’s Degrees. How is he not excited for this?
He shrugs, scratching at his arm under his sleeve. “Pearl didn’t seem to think so. She’s the one who threw it in the garbage. I’m sure she wishes she’d done the same to me.”
The words punch me in the gut, leaving me breathless.
Before he can retreat to bed, I grab his arm and drag him into the half-finished bathroom.
“What the hell, Matty?” he growls, spilling some of his soda on the floor as I push him onto the closed toilet lid.
Snatching the can from his hands, I take a long swig before pointing at him. “Show it to me.”
His expression shifts, features going blank as he drops his gaze, dark strands falling to hide one eye. Without a word, he rolls up his shirt sleeve, exposing a tiny, scarred wrist before offering it to me. My stomach churns as my eyes settle on the fresh burn—a circle of angry, raw flesh.
There are others, too, dotting his inner arm up to the crook of his elbow, each in various stages of healing. I know his other arm looks the same.
It’s not the first time I’ve seen his scars. I still remember the day in middle school when I saw them for the first time—the helplessness, the anguish. How he begged me not to tell my mom because he didn’t want to disappoint her .
I’ve learned to keep my visceral reactions buried, but even now, years later, those jagged marks still take the air out of my lungs. The more time he spends with his aunt, the worse it gets.
Gently, I take his hand, cradling it against my chest as I rest my forehead against his hair. It smells awful, like his aunt’s house, but I don’t care.
“I hate when you do this,” I whisper. “You know nothing she says is true. Don’t let her get to you.”
Xed makes a small noise, his palm flattening against my chest, over my racing heart. “Some of it is. My own mom fucked off back to the Philippines after she had me, and who even knows where my sperm donor is. I’m not… keepable.”
“Yes, you are.” I lean back slightly, frowning into his gold-flecked eyes. “You’re very keepable. Why do you think I came looking for you tonight?”
He shrugs, brushing his hair out of his face with a casualness that doesn’t match the pain in his eyes. “No one wants me, Matty. It’s fine. I’ve gotten used to it.”
“I want you.”
The words escape fiercely, hanging heavy in the air between us.
Xed’s lips part slightly, his eyes widening as he stares at me. The world falls away momentarily, leaving only a strange, electric hum between us. It’s alive, buzzing, making my skin prickle.
My throat tightens. I clear it awkwardly, stepping back quickly. “You need to take a shower.”
Blinking, he shakes his head to clear the moment before his familiar, annoyed expression creeps back. “I already showered today.”
“Yeah, but you smell like your aunt’s house. Not like…” Not like me. “Just get in. I’ll find your under-squares. ”
Xed rolls his eyes at my Spongebob reference but doesn’t argue. He strips off his clothes, and my gaze flicks briefly to his smooth chest and soft stomach before I turn toward the dresser, suddenly feeling awkward.
I don’t know why. It’s not like I’ve never seen him shirtless—we sleep in our underwear most nights—but tonight’s mood feels different. Heavy. I’m always more emotional when he hurts himself.
When I hear the water running, I grab a clean pair of briefs from his drawer and set them on the sink. Taking off my shirt and jeans, I climb into bed, the day’s weight settling into my bones.
I open the first-aid kit from my nightstand and wait. The water stops, and a few moments later, he shuts off the bathroom light, the room illuminated only by the soft glow of the LED strip running along the ceiling beams.
He climbs into bed next to me, flopping down with a sigh, his wrist landing on my lap.
Meticulously, I apply some burn cream, my movements gentle as I wrap his arm in gauze. Neither of us speaks—it’s a routine we’ve done too many times. Three nights a week, like clockwork. I hate it.
When I finish, I put the kit away and lie on my side, pulling him against my chest. Our legs tangle together perfectly, and I press my nose into his freshly washed hair, the woodsy scent of my body wash replacing the acrid smell of before.
“Better?” he whispers, holding onto me tightly.
I nod, a soft smile spreading across my face. “Better.”
Silence stretches between us, and sleep has almost claimed me when I feel his lips move against mine.
“Thank you for wanting me, Matty.”
Like I could ever want anyone else .
I kiss him back softly, a gesture we share only in the dark when we’re alone. It’s our secret, a rebellion against a world that believes two best friends kissing for comfort is wrong.
But how could it be wrong when it feels so right?
“I’ll always want you, Ducky,” I murmur against his lips. “Always.”