And tell me some things last
AKA the fic in which I address Matteoās depression as personally and I hope as gently as possible because I too am a Depressed GayTM (pansexual, but like semantics)Ā
And also there is David content because of course there is
for Mika,Ā @detroitdavid because he is a real gemĀ
Sometimes Matteo canāt even tell when it begins. It just creeps up to him, slowly and makes life so much harder to balance like the books on his shelf that are just tethered there by sheer will.
But sometimes, like today, there is just a weight on top of him, a heavy blanket that muffles the world, drowns out all the noises, all the feelings. When he woke up, he already knew that something was different.
He has difficulties with getting out of bed most mornings but this morning, he has to force himself to open his eyes in order to look up at the ceiling. He canāt move, canāt speak and it is not even sadness that brings him down, it is the hollowness in his chest, the emptiness of his room. It is cluttered, clothes strewn around, beer bottles on the table and his nightstand but it is empty at the same time. A true reflection of how he feels.
His phone buzzes on the nightstand and as much as he wants to look, he cannot physically bring his body to move in any direction. It is as if he is stuck, trapped. He didnāt want to just cry like a child but there is nothing he can do about the pillow getting wet.
There is nothing he can do about the fact that he is late for school even if it is only spirit week. Jonas, Abdi and Carlos are waiting for him, he knows that. They wanted to come as a team, as the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. But today they will have to make do without Michelangelo. He just canāt. Sara is waiting for him as well and he is not willing to pretend for another day but she was so sad when he rejected her.
Why canāt you tell her? Are you scared?
And yes, he is scared. Terrified of all of his masks crumbling to dust once they know. Panicking at the prospect of his parents knowing. Jonas finding out what he did. Not being able to hang out with the boys anymore because they might be disgusted by him.
Not knowing what David might think of him.
His phone buzzes again and this time it stubbornly carries on buzzing. A call.
It takes such an effort to move his hand, it is as if he is navigating through fog but then finally he is able to pick up his phone.
Jonas. Of course.
āHey, bro. Abdi, Carlos and I are here in front of the school, man, where are you?ā he asks and Matteo swallows. It takes several tries to speak and when he does, his voice is raspy, as if he hasnāt used it in years.
āItās not good today, dude,ā he manages and swallows again. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth and he is forcing himself to hold his phone. He cannot force himself to smile or sound positive though and Jonas notices, of course he does. He is his best friend. And he went through a phase like this himself, after Hanna and him broke up.
Your fucking fault, Matteo a voice whispers in the back of his mind but Jonas interrupts it. āIāll tell the teachers that you arenāt feeling well, okay? We shouldnāt even have classes anyway but hey, the system doesnāt care. Do you want me to come over?ā
Matteo is so grateful that he could cry but there is nothing but numbness right now, so he shakes his head, belatedly realising that Jonas canāt see him so he whispers a āNo. And can you tell Amira? I justā¦ā
āSure. No problem. I am busy later but I can ask my study partner in maths to bring you your stuff, okay? He is pretty cool, let me even copy his homework once,ā Jonas says and he sounds cheerful. āDonāt worry, I wouldnāt just give out your address out to anyone.ā
Matteo just hums his acknowledgement and closes his eyes again as Jonas ends the call. Blessed, cursed silence. Faintly he can hear music and laughter down the hall, Mia seems to have a visitor. At least one of them is happy and he envies her for a moment.
The hours seem to stagnate and rush all at once, he hears voices in the kitchen, one moment in all of those hours Hans sticks his head into Matteoās room to bring him piece of bread with cheese and a glass of tea. He doesnāt say anything, he just carefully kisses Matteoās forehead as he leaves and again, there are tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. It is such a simple sign of affection and still, it hits Matteo harder than he wanted it to.
The bread and the tea almost taste of nothing but he manages to eat and drink.
Something is better than nothing.
And then the doorbell rings. There is a voice.
āJonas asked me to bring over Matteoās stuff for him, soā¦ uhā¦ hi.ā
Fuck. Itās David.
David is Jonas bench partner in maths. Why was Matteo never privy to this piece of information?! And why is he here? He shouldnāt see Matteo like this.
āMatteo, my little butterfly, you have a visitor!ā Hans calls out and he sighs, rolling over to face the door of his room (his own room. He has his own room). It truly is a mess.
A knock. It is soft and careful, so different from what he has gotten to know David. āCan I come in? Or are you contagious? Jonas told me that you arenāt doing well. I can also just put your stuff in front of your door andā¦ leave.ā
Is it just Matteoās imagination or did David hesitate on that last word?
It is your eyelash. You should know what to wish for.
āNoā¦ Iā¦ come in. Please.ā Matteoās voice wavers on the last word and he flops back into the pillows, looking up at the pattern of the ceiling as the door opens and David steps in. He waits for a comment, for a derisive scoff, for the door to immediately close again but then the mattress dips and his heart lurches, picks up again in double time. Shit, he is right here. On his bed. Sitting so close that they almost touch but far away enough that Matteoās heart isnāt in full escalation mode. But he wants. He wants to touch so badly.
For a couple of moments neither of them say anything but then David moves, fumbles in his black backpack (of course it is black) and Matteo just observes him, the line of his neck, the way his black hair curls, his skin that looks as if it would be soft underneath Matteoās fingertips. Stop. Stop right there.
David makes a triumphant little sound and holds up a headphone splitter and two pairs of headphones, a smile on his face and now there is something underneath all the numbness, the smallest tendril of curiosity, the smallest hint of fondness.
Is he really doing this? Listening to music with someone he is utterly drawn to?
Is he really this stupid?
To answer all of those questions: yes.
āCan Iā¦?ā David indicates and there is a brief moment of awkward shuffling until they are both situated on Matteoās bed, their legs almost touching and this time it is not Sara sitting opposite him, it is David sitting right next to him, here on his bed, holy fuck.
But itās not Spotify or iTunes or any other music app David opens. Instead he indicates towards Matteoās laptop that is teetering dangerously close to sliding off the bed, hanging on by force of gravity and dumb luck alone. Much like Matteo is sometimes.
And it is incredibly private to just hand over a laptop, who knows what might be hidden there. Maybe his google search which would really just add to the awkwardness of the situation. But he does. He hands over the thing he spends most of his afternoon on and lets David type away, searching for whatever it is he wants to watch with Matteo.
āNo peeking, this is supposed to be surprise,ā David gently chides him as Matteo tries to catch a glimpse of the computer screen, a small smile playing on his face and it takes everything Matteo has in him not to stare so blatantly. They are so close that he would be able to count each one of his almost ridiculously long eyelashes. The emptiness is not as noticeable anymore and how can it when the guy he spent nights (and days) thinking of is right here next to him?
āThere we go. Found it. Itās live,ā David says and hands one pair of headphones over to Matteo. Their fingers brush and his skin begins to tingle, he begins to notice that he has a body, that he isnāt just existing but that he is alive.Ā
Of course he knows that feelings arenāt the all-heal cure for him, that feelings can be too much in some moments, can drag him down to the bottom where he is currently floating aimlessly while listening to something called Motown with David but they can sit with each other in silence and Matteo doesnāt feel like he has to do anything but be.
āDoes this happen often?ā David finally asks, his voice careful, as if he is scared to shatter the bubble that has built around them, the comfort. āThat you are like this?ā
Matteo wants to shrug because that is basically his default mode but he thinks twice. David deserves better than a noncommittal shrug. āYeah, Iā¦ā (be stupid, deflect, make a joke out of it, I am so tired of making it a joke). āItās the depression,ā he finally answers and can feel the corners of his lips struggling to tick up into a smile. Doesnāt work that well. āMy dad divorced himself from the situation, my mum isā¦ (crazy, off her rocker, psycho) not doing well and I just. I had to leave. I couldnāt live as a caretaker of my mum when she is supposed to be the adult. I am so tired of feeling lonely and rejected and out of the loop, Iā¦ā
He trails off with a sigh, closing his eyes, feeling wrung out and empty, sorry for himself and for David, that he has to witness him being a massively whiny bitch. āSorry,ā he finally says and feels a gentle tug at his sleeve (at his heartstrings) and David looks at him with so much understanding that it almost hurts.
āHey, no, donāt worry. I get it. You can leave all your word vomit with me, I am good at keeping secrets. The last time someone spilled any secret was the time I had to kill them and move states,ā David calms him and there is something in his eyes that speaks of more than just a simple joke. āLetās just listen to music and not think of anything. Not that that is hard for you.ā
A surprised laugh bubbles out of Matteo and shoves David gently.
Outside, the clouds disperse slowly and a ray of sunshine carefully creeps its way into the room where two boys are sitting on a bed, sides pressed together like two magnets, listening to music, occasionally smiling at each other.
And it feels easier than anything Matteo has ever done.
