Matthew's knuckles throbbed.
He'd washed the blood off his hands, but no matter how hot the water ran, Tom's words clung to his skin like oil—refusing to be scrubbed away. He stared at himself in the mirror, jaw clenched tight, the faint bloom of a bruise beneath his eye just starting to rise.
Vinny.
That bastard talked about Vinny like he was disposable. Like he didn't matter.
And Matthew had lost it.
His phone buzzed. A message from Vinny, short and sweet:
"Where are you? Come over. I'm bored."
He didn't say please. He never did. And yet Matthew's stomach flipped in that infuriating way it always did when Vinny asked for him. Like his name alone was enough to make something inside Matthew melt and ache.
He didn't reply. Just grabbed his coat and left.
Vinny's apartment door cracked open before he even knocked.
Vinny stood there barefoot, hair messy, shirt oversized and hanging off one shoulder. He blinked at Matthew, taking in the tight line of his shoulders, the bruised eye, and the way he refused to meet his gaze.
Vinny's brow furrowed. "What the hell happened to your face?"
"Ran into a wall," Matthew muttered.
"Looks like the wall punched you back."
He stepped aside, letting him in, and Matthew brushed past him without a word. The living room was warm, too warm, like Vinny always kept it. Incense curling in the air, something soft playing in the background—some indie band Matthew would never admit he liked now too.
Vinny followed him, arms crossed. "You're tense."
"No shit."
"Want me to loosen you up?"
Matthew turned slowly, finally looking him in the eyes. Vinny was teasing, but something flickered behind those golden-brown eyes—concern, maybe. Or suspicion.
"Cut it out, Vin."
Vinny tilted his head. "Since when do you call me that when you're pissed?"
Matthew didn't answer. He just collapsed onto the couch, dragging a hand through his hair, wincing slightly when his fingers brushed his brow.
Vinny sat beside him, not touching, just… watching. Like he always did when he knew Matthew was hiding something.
"You're not gonna talk about it, are you?"
"No."
"You think I don't know when something's wrong?"
"I think you love pretending you don't."
Vinny let out a dry laugh. "Cute."
They sat in silence for a beat. The tension between them was thick, humming. And then Vinny shifted closer, his knee brushing Matthew's.
"Did someone say something?" Vinny asked softly.
Matthew said nothing.
"Was it about me?"
Still nothing.
Vinny leaned in, fingers brushing the hem of Matthew's sleeve. "You got into a fight, didn't you?"
Matthew clenched his jaw. "Drop it."
But Vinny's voice was quieter now, sharper. "Who was it?"
Matthew finally turned to face him, his voice low and cold. "Someone who thinks you're just a game."
Vinny blinked. "And you cared enough to beat the crap out of them?"
Matthew's hand twitched. "Don't start."
"I'm not starting anything. I just—" He broke off, then shifted away, standing up and pacing the room. "You get mad when I treat you like something I want. You get mad when I don't. Make up your mind, Matthew."
"Don't pretend you're confused."
"I'm not pretending," Vinny snapped. "I don't get you. One minute you're all over me, the next you're brooding like someone killed your cat."
Matthew stood too, towering over him now. "Because I don't want to lose what we have."
"What do we have?" Vinny asked, voice barely above a whisper. "Because I'm not sure if we're fucking or falling."
That hit something deep. And raw.
"I don't know either," Matthew admitted.
Vinny's lips parted, like he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words.
Matthew closed the distance between them in two steps, and the next second, Vinny was pinned to the wall, breath caught, heart racing.
"I'm not telling you what happened," Matthew whispered against his skin. "Not because I don't trust you. But because if you knew what was said… you'd burn down the world."
Vinny's breath hitched.
"And I can't let you do that. You're the only thing that keeps me sane."
Vinny's hands curled into Matthew's shirt. "And you… you make me insane."
Then their mouths met—desperate, bruising, hungry.
They crashed onto the bed, lips locked, clothes half-off, touches messy and sharp-edged. This wasn't sweet. This was need.
Vinny kissed him like he was trying to carve his name into Matthew's bones.
And Matthew kissed him back like he already belonged to him.
Hands tangled in hair. Teeth scraped lips. And under the moonlight, their shadows danced across the walls—two messy boys pretending they weren't breaking under each other.
After, when the world slowed down, Matthew lay there with Vinny sprawled half-asleep on his chest. Sweat cooling on skin. Fingers still laced together.
Vinny murmured, "You're gonna tell me someday."
Matthew didn't answer. Just kissed the top of his head and held him tighter.
Meanwhile…
Across the city, Tom was icing his split lip in the dark, hatred festering beneath the bruises.
He stared at the ceiling, eyes glinting.
"You think you won, Matthew?" he muttered. "You think this is over?"
And Kieran, sitting in his car outside Vinny's building, lit a cigarette he didn't even want.
He hadn't meant to see anything. But he'd seen enough.
"Eliza's gonna love this," he muttered. Then, after a pause—
"But I think I'm finally starting to see the real problem."
He flicked ash into the night and drove off.