laurie's gaze had found matty earlier and he'd smiled to himself while watching him toss playful challenges at the children of wicklow ridge. game after game, matty moved with an easy charm, fierce and light all at once. by the end, only a few brave children remained, and laurie, sneaking more glances, couldn’t help but laugh to himself. there was something so deeply endearing about matty — how effortlessly he moved through the world, unbothered, yet never too proud to lose himself in childlike joy. he was certainly a different breed of englishman than laurie was.
quietly, laurie had pleaded with the skies above for matty to stop by the truck. he was far too shy to strike up a conversation with matty, but if the other came to order something then at least laurie would be able to interact with him — albeit, likely in the most flustered of ways. when he'd heard rhythmic tapping upon the glass, laurie had hurried towards the front counter and his jaw dropped. laurie’s breath caught in his throat, his jaw going slack. had he summoned matty with a wish? doe-eyed, he could only stare, heart pounding like a drum. “h-hello,” he stammered, elbow resting on the counter, chin cradled in his palm, as though caught in a waking dream. but, his brows furrowed upon hearing matty's words and he cursed himself for not wiping his face before coming to the window. "do i have...," he trailed off, rubbing his hands on his cheeks, "where?" this was not the way to make an impression. "heavens, i'm sorry...i probably look like a fool," a pause, and for once he was grateful for the flour on his face because it hid the red that flooded his cheeks.
in the end, he'd conceded to the few kids left. or so he would say. unlike them, matty was incorrectly fuelled for all of the unplanned exercise that had filled the last hour or so. strangely, a quarter of a bottle of tequila did not stave off the low blood sugar-induced stars popping into his vision. the goodies on offer were sweet, but the man behind them even more so. so much so that sometimes matty had the overwhelming urge to poke or tap laurie just to make sure he was real. and there he was, cartoonishly wide-eyed and covered in flour. what else could he have possibly expected?
"yes," responded simply. matty figured laurie was probably well aware of his current... decoration. "there's a picture of me from about... fifteen years ago coming out of a club in soho at five in the morning sporting a suspiciously similar look," he made a vague gesture to the other's smeared face and then tapped the side of his nose, a dark brow arching. somehow, matty got the feeling the reference might just go over laurie's head, but it didn't matter. "did you fall into a sack of flour? here," typically, he wasn't much one for helping people out -- even if they'd asked exceedingly politely, but there was something about laurie's good nature that subconsciously made him want to replicate it. or try to, anyway. plucking a handful of napkins from the counter, he ushered the other closer with a gesture. "take off your glasses."
closed starter for : @hardwiick
location : the midsummer jubilee
the initial rush at the sugar & cream food truck had ebbed, and laurie was wearing a happy grin on his lips. he took a deep breath, inhaling the sugared air that wrapped around him like an embrace. he glanced up at the crowd at the midsummer jubilee, sunlight spilling like gold over the trees surrounding them and laurie couldn’t help but smile. glad to be in wicklow ridge, glad to live somewhere where laughter echoed contagiously, and glad for new beginnings.
the espresso machine behind him whirred as laurie began to whip up his next batch of chocolate éclairs, humming to himself. he heard someone at the window, so he quickly wiped his cheeks and pushed his glasses — that had fallen — back up the bridge of his nose, unknowingly spreading flour all over his face. and he spotted him. all blue eyed, pierced, and tattooed up. laurie believed his name was matty. no, he was certain his name was matty — laurie was embarrassingly good with names. his heart had forgotten the tempo it typically beat at and had risen into a crescendo. “h-hi,” he managed a sheepish smile, though he was far too timid to look directly into matty’s eyes, “what can i do for you today?”
the novelty of terrorising people ( many of who were about half his age ) in the games section was beginning to wear off despite being the most fun he'd ever had at a jubilee. after nine years though, it wasn't exactly surprising that the town, its people, and its ways had started to rub off on the englishman. not that he would admit to enjoying the celebration, let alone being positively influenced by his surroundings out loud free. not without being under serious duress, anyway.
all that running around had conjured an appetite and for one of only a few times in his life, matty decided to respond appropriately to it. well, partially appropriately. he'd spotted the sugar & cream truck on the way and stuck a pin in a visit. something presumably sickly sweet to eat and a chance to take in the bumbling but undeniably attractive owner? well. some things weren't meant to be resisted. fingers tapped impatiently ( but not too harshly ) upon the glass, head tilting to one side in silent curiosity as said owner came into view. in what matty could only describe as an absolute state. he emitted a breathy laugh despite himself. "hello," came his deep, cool response, one corner of his lips twitching in amusement. "trying to start a new fashion trend?" matty pressed, plainly ignoring the question aimed at him.
jumping into the water in only a pair of black underwear had been a reckless choice, perhaps even dumb after a few bottles of beer. " fuck, please don't look! " maika pleaded, attempting to cover herself with both hands, desperately seeking that pile of clothes left on her way in. " have you seen a dress and sneakers out here? " left a couple meters away from the lake, she hoped it still be there after such a dumb decision. " i could swear i left it in a pile... " the long, curly hair hung over her shoulders, dripping wet. " bet you think i look real stupid. "
"uh oh," he can't help the moderated glee punctuating his sing-song exclamation, hands in the air in surrender at maika's insistence. "i'm not looking, don't panic." matty heaved an over-dramatic sigh, as if inconvenienced by his boss' unfortunate position. if it had been anyone else, he might simply have left, but he had undoubtedly developed a soft spot for the norwegian. only because she kept him in a job, though. "here," leather jacket shrugged off, he turned slowly back towards her and offered it out. "s'pose we're gonna have to go on a shitty treasure hunt for your stuff now, right? somebody's probably nicked it." a pause at her question, lips pouted in careful consideration. "oh, no more than usual," he grinned, mischief glinting in bright blues.
the pier creaks under her boots , boards warm from the day but cooling fast with the night air coming off the lake. lanterns bob on the water , each one carrying someone’s secret scrawl into the dark. lola lingers at the edge , elbows on the railing , cigarette smoke curling past her face and dissolving into the breeze. she hears him before she sees him . . the low clink of glass bottles in a crate , the easy shuffle of boots on wood.
“i hope you come bearing my favorite.” she says without looking up , flicking ash over the side. when she finally glances his way , the firelight from shore throws just enough glow to catch his eyes. “finally granted a day off to enjoy the occasion?” the words are dry, but there’s that familiar spark under them - the one that’s kept her coming back to the stags nest more nights than she’d admit ; banter with matty with easy . . and needed most days.
the midsummer jubilee is precisely the kind of twee nonsense that would typically have matty looking for any excuse to leave town. even after a decade of living in the town and witnessing the event, the harder part of his soul scoffs and rolls its eyes at the idea. the softer ( and readily denied ) part, however, has him stalking along the pier with drinks in search of a friend. an almost alien concept in itself.
"i don't know what you could possibly mean. in fact, who are you?" comes the plainly disinterested reply, crate swinging recklessly at his side and causing a racket as if to warn of his approach. "i tried my hardest to work it, honest. practically begged -- shame you missed seeing it," wicked smile sent her way, drinks plopped onto the railing between them as he settles. "think there are any deep dark secrets out there that make trying to snatch a lantern worthwhile?" head tilts towards the stragglers on the lake, eyebrows raised.
★ ‧₊˚ ⋆ tom sturridge. cis man. he/him … now playing: knee socks by arctic monkeys — oh , that ? might be matthew hardwick , a thirty-seven year old bartender @ the stag’s rest & delivery driver for wicklow general who’s been hanging around wicklow ridge for nine years , just long enough to stir up some trouble if you ask me. they’re a regular at everwood café , always going on about “where’s the fun in doing what you’re told?” like it’s gospel. around town , folks say they’re genial & attentive — but when they think no one’s listening ? it’s more like impatient & guarded. are the rumors true ? maybe not … but it sure makes life around here a little more interesting. ( penny. she/her. 26. gmt+1. )
full name: matthew james archibald hardwick.
nickname(s): matty, matt.
birthday: 20th december.
gender / pronouns: cis man , he / him.
orientation: bisexual / biromantic.
personality: quick-witted, argumentative, restless, ebullient.
languages spoken: english. bits of french, spanish and latin from school.
height: 182cm / 5'11.
build: slim.
piercings: double lobe piercings, left ear.
tattoos: all black patchwork sleeves semi-in-progress. not cohesive at all, gets what he feels like in the moment. a lit match on his left shin, above the ankle.
matthew was born in islington, london. he and his two older sisters were the product of a marriage between two people who couldn't really have cared less for one another. his mother the daughter of a viscount and his father a wealthy businessman in his own right.
safe to say, they were not lacking in money. the house in islington was modest enough -- one of many like it on the street. the house in buckinghamshire ( or more accurately, the estate, courtesy of the viscount ) on the other hand was comically large and devoid of warmth ; a sentiment echoed by the family.
while his sisters were at least sometimes willing to be dressed up and paraded around like prized possessions, it was clear from a very young age that matthew was not. he was trouble from day dot and siblings and parents alike made it abundantly clear they had no time nor care for him. which was just fine by him.
he had all of london and the lands around the buckinghamshire house as his playground and by god he made use of it. he would disappear for hours, returning home having ruined yet another pointlessly expensive outfit or "less problematically", a broken bone or other injury from misadventure.
in prep school, teachers would take the few opportunities they had to discuss with matthew's parents to inform them he was cleverer than he let on and simply refused to apply himself. instead, he spent his time stirring up trouble ( running away was a big go-to ) and just generally being something of a nuisance in the classroom.
when it came to secondary school then, the hardwicks did what any other disinterested parents of means would do and shipped him to boarding school in scotland. even matty himself is not quite sure how, but he managed to finish his a levels ( with mediocre grades to show for it ) despite pouring most of his energy into disruption and being a nuisance. he was almost kicked out in year ten for smoking weed, but he promised not to smoke anymore and to never distribute it ( something he'd already been doing, naturally ) and was simply never caught again.
looking back, matty would say at the very least having the structure of school was a grounding force. returning to london at eighteen without it, well... he was ripe for going off the rails, and that he did.
by twenty he'd featured in several tabloid newspapers for attending and hosting ragers, making a fool of himself in clubs and bars, and generally being associated with ingesting more illegal and 'legal' substances and alcohol than someone of his lanky stature should even be capable of surviving. all in the innocent pursuit of a good time, of course.
shortly after matty turned twenty-three, his parents decided they'd finally had enough of their good name and reputation being dragged through the mud ; if only their son had had the good sense to be a mess in private. they paid for two months of private impatient rehab and for a year or so of follow up outpatient. dropped matty off at the clinic and that was the extent of their input.
he would at least concede to his parents that it was a good move. he fell off the wagon here and there, especially within the first year -- bored out of his mind, hired and fired from various minimum wage jobs -- but settled down well after that by moving out of london to manchester. funded by his parents, of course. matty was rarely able to keep more than two pennies to rub together.
a counter-intuitive move, perhaps, for someone who had been to rehab for substance abuse to get a job as a bartender... but he'd managed to work his way into a ( relatively, not perfectly ) healthy place regarding his relationship to alcohol and it seemed like a good fit job for him. he liked to be busy, talking to different people -- hearing about their lives and experiences. to his own surprise more than anyone's, he was actually quite good at it.
at twenty-seven, matty was as settled as he'd been since he was in school. this of course meant he was itching for something else, somewhere new, maybe. chatting as he often did with a tourist in the bar one evening, he came to learn about wicklow ridge, a town in vermont. it didn't seem like a natural fit for someone used to the hustle and bustle of a major city ( and who frequently found himself bored there ) but something about it struck him. not two weeks later, a one way flight and a stay at hollow rock inn were booked.
he spent a few weeks in town as a tourist, exploring like one does before deciding to stay. chances were he wouldn't stay that long, but it didn't matter. the job at the stag's rest came first -- a natural fit for his experience. but with nothing to fill the rest of his days, his characteristic restlessness and tendency towards trouble. well, let's just say it didn't take long for trouble to find him.
not wanting to ruin the good thing he'd started for himself completely though, matty sought out a second job and landed himself one as a delivery driver for the general store. another thing to keep his hands busy.
'probably a year or two' somehow turned into nine years in the town recently. matty is probably more shook than anyone he's managed to last this long. he's still in and out of trouble -- less so than he's ever been in his life. it seems like something has finally switched in his brain and he is consciously trying not to ruin a good thing.
headcanons.
thirty-seven going on twenty-three. matty has always been... immature, but he's done the most growth and maturing in his life since arriving in wicklow ridge and hopes to continue. baby steps.
goes pretty much exclusively by matty. he'll accept 'matt' too, but only begrudgingly. frankly will not answer to matthew -- his parents refused to call him by anything but that full name so the associations are largely negative. if he hears matthew, he assumes he's in trouble ( usually correct anyway lbr ) and it just generally rubs him the wrong way to hear it.
has a horrendously posh accent and it has not changed one bit since he moved. plays it up sometimes, and also finds it funny when the more ignorant americans say it reminds them of the royals because he's brushed shoulders with a fair few minor royals in his time. and he is technically nobility, though he's not one to bring that up -- he's managed to put the atlantic ocean between himself and his family and even that isn't far enough.
after two years in town, he rescued a grey/blue italian greyhound he dubbed monty who is a little goofball. he takes monty for walks mostly around town and the lake and they goof off together. it's two idiots telling each other exactly but one of them is literally a dog.
sporadically attends an NA/substance abuse support group in town and has a sponsor. he didn't in manchester and does feel it's made a massive difference with his ability to cope. remains, however, in denial of his alcoholism to an extent. he's much better at keeping things in moderation now, but slips up more often than he should and when he overindulges, he doesn't do shit by halves. this is where a lot of trouble 'finds him' -- stupid shit, like picking fights with folk twice his size, running his mouth, generally making stupid decisions and lacking in self-preservation.
predictably, he doesn't earn very much. enough to get by, just about, definitely. money continues to come in from his parents -- they largely funded the move itself, seeing it as mutually beneficial -- and sits in a savings account. matty dips into it every now and then as it's handy for emergencies or unexpected charges, but he feels very conflicted about it. just as he does with anything that ties him to his parents, really.
has somehow managed to go his entire life undiagnosed with adhd, but he absolutely has it. he vaguely recalls someone ( maybe a friend, maybe a teacher ) mentioning it to him when he was still in school, but nothing was ever actioned and he's not given it a thought since. he was, however, diagnosed with dyslexia at nine when teachers noticed his consistent struggles with reading and spelling in particular. matty still harbours a kind of negative attitude towards reading -- every now and then he'll say he's going to properly get into it, start reading like everybody else... then gives up before he can really give it a proper go out of frustration.
a cheeky chappy ! absolutely terrible at holding his tongue, says the first thing that pops into his mind far too often. matty is, however, generally harmless. he has a kind heart and a good soul -- really cares about other people even if sometimes he's not the best ( read: horrendous ) at showing it. loves a bit of banter, which he finds works well in the bar most of the time. not great with authority / authority figures ; bossing him around tends to irk him, but given how long he's been able to hold two jobs down now -- and no one is more surprised than matty himself -- he has got significantly better. growth.
much more sensitive than he'd ever let on. he's guarded with his emotions, having learnt it's best not to show them but can be good at making it seem like he's opened up or let someone in. matty is terrified of the idea of actually being known, let alone loved. he doesn't necessarily view himself as impossible to love -- but difficult to? absolutely. at times undeserving? for sure.
absurdly good with kids. presumably because he basically still is one himself. he hasn't got very much experience with them at all, which is why it's generally shocking that he's a natural. that being said, he panics when babies are involved -- too delicate and tiny for his liking. adorable,for sure, but terrifying to be at all responsible for.
very bad at anything adult and / or involving looking after himself. frequently forgets to eat and drink and generally lives off eating out or takeaway and more widely has the poor diet of a student. sleeping schedule... what is a schedule? matty wouldn't know.
general ; unlikely friends, drinking buddies, fellow brits esp those who may recognise him, flirtationships, crushes ( unrequited or mutual ), neighbours, close friend / confidant, informal drink tester, sibling-like relationship, running buddies, fellow dog owners / walkers, one night stands, his saviour -- maybe they patch him up after yet another fight or pick him up when he's over indulged or got himself into trouble, casual hookups, dates, fellow support group attendees, exes, failed relationships, gaming friends, someone who calls him out, general friends, the closest thing to a real parental figure he's ever had.
the person from wicklow ridge he met in manchester ; the person responsible ( for better or for worse ) for matty moving to the town after they told him about it. maybe they acted as tour guide when he first arrived. they could have developed a friendship of some sort, or just remained casual acquaintances.
a sponsor ; pretty self-explanatory. matty is mostly a decent enough sponsee, but he also has a tendency to drop off the face of the earth only to reappear and act like nothing's happened. his relationship with alcohol could be a serious point of contention between them.
the good influence ; the angel on matty's shoulder. bless them, they've a serious job on their hands. but he is ( for the most part ) trying and probably largely thanks to their influence. HEATH EATON.
of course, the equally bad influence ; someone he knows he can go to when the desire to fuck shit up arises. hijinks will undoubtedly ensue. TAEIL 'ROOK' YOO.
antagonistic ; someone matty really just rubs the wrong way. they're not the first, the last, or the only, that's for sure. maybe it's completely mean-spirited and they just don't get along at all, or there's a slightly playful element to it. either way, matty pisses them off -- and he knows it.
the stag's rest regulars ; as a bartender, he's got to know a lot of the bar's regulars over the past nine years. he's the type to engage anyone in conversation about anything and is a better listening ear than he might initially come across. he's also a bloody good bartender and remembers anyone who comes in often enough's likes and dislikes. LOLA FOX,
delivery regulars ; those who order deliveries from wicklow general store receive their goods from matty… mostly on time.
flatmate ; they have the misfortune of sharing a 2-bed apartment with matty. he often keeps strange hours -- says it's because of his jobs, but really it's just him anyway. probably isn't the ideal apartment sharer being disorganised, but he tries to be respectful and probably loves having the company. NESRIN ORMAN.
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dailybridgerton
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