It began the way all dangerous things do; it crept in on silent feet, tested its claws on small, unseen corners, and briefly reveled in its strength before it sought out larger prey.
It ended the way a tree falls--with a sigh, a hush, and the distant ache of uprooting your bones from the earth.
The way a tree falls--if no one is around to hear it, did it make a sound?
For all the jokes made at his expense, Freddy was more than capable of loading chains on his tires and bulldozing his way through snow-laden streets.
(Or so he claimed: either way, this car was a rental from the airport and the roads had been cleared.)
“Fucking Manitoba,” he said bleakly, squinting out into the dark as he took a turn a little too sharply. “Fucking Canada.”
He thought wistfully of his brother’s cabin and its central heating and its goddamn beds where he could be horizontal for the first time in what felt like fucking centuries--and it was, of course, in the outskirts on the other fucking side of the city.
“Fucking Winnipeg,” he muttered, drumming his fingertips against the steering wheel as he stared up at the traffic light’s angry red eye.
It’d been a while since he’d graced his older brother with his presence for the holiday season--too long to really excuse with any degree of dignity, but running a nation--being a nation was never an easy task. They understood that. Understood each other. So the final warning signs that Freddy had let his absence stretch too long was an unfamiliar pang in his back, one that usually meant Matthew was overextending himself (too) and Freddy had to go step in to be the voice of reason. The stolen vacation time was never a bad trade-off.
Then again, love was a much more vicious motivator.
He spent the rest of the drive thinking very pointedly of nothing, taking the route by rote muscle memory until he was pulling down a lane lined with familiar night silhouettes of rangy firs. He idled in front of the driveway, glancing up at his brother’s cabin contemplatively before pulling the rental forward and backing in at just the right angle to make Matthew’s next commute really fucking difficult.
Freddy-1, Mattie-nil point.
He turned the car off and rested his forehead on the wheel, letting his eyes drift shut in fatigue for a brief moment.
The exhaustion was seeping in bone-deep, like he’d always been promised it would, like he always swore he’d never let happen.
So he sighed and opened the car door, his traveling duffel slung over one shoulder. No--no matter how much they aged, he was never going to let them get that old. That resolution firmly in place, he whistled a few jaunty bars as he took the steps up to the front door two at a time, his stolen-without-necessarily-express-permission house key already in hand.
The foyer was dark as he forced the door open with a shove of his hip.
“Matt?” Freddy called out absently, letting the bag drop to the floor. “Your stupid door’s sticking again--”
He glance sideways to catch sight of a pair of acid-green eyes watching him calmly from the darkened den and did not (did not!) scream like a little bitch.
“Goddamn fucking bear, Jesus fucking Christ, I swear to God you almost gave me a heart attack---what the fuck are you doing, you fat ass, you know you can’t be on the couch--chesterfield, couch, sofa, whatever, beat it.”
The polar bear (Freddy was also pointedly not examining how weird his daily life was that running into his older brother’s miniature polar bear or whatever the fuck it was was a normal occasion) leveled Freddy with a look that could only be labeled as “unimpressed”, but lumbered off the sofa obediently enough before disappearing...somewhere else.
“Matt? Mattie! Yo!” he called again, halfway up the creaking stairs already. “C’mon dipshit, you asleep?”
Winter had a way of swallowing a person whole. It stole the warmth from your bones, affected the body quite differently. Though Matthieu was quite literally built different, exhaustion had indeed set in, so much so that Matt had resorted to just sleeping it off once winter hit every year.
It had become easier to let the stifling stillness of the snow-covered mountains and firs consume him than to fight against it anymore. He'd make time to talk to Freddy, of course, but not much else needed to be done. He didn't have much in the way of a day job, but the whispers and cries of an entire nation making up one's entire being did tend to drag on one's spirit after a while. You could only take so many nature photos and write for blogs before you just hated thinking about anything but sleeping.
Somehow... Folks never suspected it would be the elder of the two of them, off his meds, sitting on a stepladder in the kitchen, wearing only his boxers, fast asleep with an open jar of peanut butter dangling from one hand and his phone from the other.
A loud noise from the front of his cabin startled Matthieu awake, making him reach for a baseball bat clothed in a single, (bright pink!) fluffy sock. Without even having much time to register what the noise could have been, he was already out of bed and halfway down the hallway- clad only in his boxers and holding the bat aloft.
"Who-Qui est là?" He called out groggily, resorting to his more comfortable tongue when his brain wasn't yet firing on all cylinders. His head swept from side to side, starting to head toward the front door to see if there had, in fact, been anyone there.
Maybe it was just Jòlie, trying to get at the Christmas tree again. Jar of peanut butter and phone already forgotten, he began to awaken further, shaking his head to try and clear it. Hair falling in his eyes as he peered out the darkened window, he noticed a car parked in his driveway, an unfamiliar one. Who could that be, at this hour? But Jòlie couldn't drive, and she certainly couldn't talk, so... Who the hell was in his house?
It was then that he noticed a duffel bag in the floor of the foyer, an oddly-shaped mass mislaying what would otherwise be a pristinely clean front entrance. That could only mean one thing- Freddy had actually made the drive and let himself in. But where did he even go...??
WHAT? I’m sorry, I don’t sit around watching films! Did we just watch it together and I don’t remember? mon dieu. you’d think I smacked a baby or something!
Are you- are you seriously making fun of me for that again, bro?
Arguing with you is no fun. Just come over and steal the use of my grill, I know you want to. (it misses you.)
I don’t know what you’re talking about, this has to be some film you saw but I didn’t. Right?
(okay, got matthieu’s sheet up, it’s linked on my page now. I’ll be setting up the mobile navigation shortly for you mobile-leaning babes in just a few minutes. prepare for the onslaught of aesthetic posts and similar as I build out my page so it looks pretty. perhaps send me some asks if you’re interested in talking to my boy?)
areudirty
turnnoffyourmind
stormborns
titsay
ellievsbear
andulkaphoto
discoholicmusic
