#peakingpeake

[theamazingspooleo]

Thirty is the New Twenty||Sean & Matt P.

Spoole’s green eyes slowly open, the edges of a soft fluffy dream fading away as morning sunlight streams through the light curtains, the black out drapes pushed apart already. Spoole figures he forgot to close them last night before he fell asleep. He languidly stretches his entire body, pressing the flat of his hand against the headboard and arching his back to reset all the vertebrae.

“Morning baby,” he mumbles as he rolls over in their mussed blankets, ready to start his birthday off with a good morning kiss from the greatest boyfriend in the history of men. 

Sean finds Matt’s side of the bed empty, the sheets already pushed aside and their bedroom door cracked open. He huffs and pouts at no one in particular, patting the void next to him with sad green eyes. The tips of his soft fingers trace over the sheets, feeling the dunes shift underneath the slightest pressure. Spoole sits up and his blankets fall off his bare chest, skin pale and soft, a blank canvas. 

His nose immediately sniffs and Sean quickly pushes the rest of the blankets off of him, standing from the bed. He throws on one of Matt’s old shirts, shrinking himself a few inches so the hem brushes just below his naval. Spoole quickly shuffles out of the room, curiously rounding the corner of the hallway before his heart melts.

Matt is standing the kitchen, spots of flour dotting his body and the smell of baking pastries flowing from the oven. Sean takes a deep whiff and licks his chapped lips. Cinnamon, sugar, handmade dough, glaze on the stove. His boyfriend is making cinnamon buns.

“What’s the occasion?” Spoole teases as he approaches the breakfast bar, leaning against it and giving Matt a bright smile. “Good morning. I missed you in bed.” Sean takes his first good morning kiss and can’t help the grin he has. 

[theamazingspooleo]

It’s Quiet Uptown||Matt P. & Sean

Spoole has settled in on the couch for the rest of the night, earbuds plugged in and drowning the raining Austin afternoon with a French podcast he had found, the hosts discussing current events happening in the streets of his heritage. There’s been another strike, one of the hosts frustratingly calling the government “lazy” and “stubborn.”

Before, when Sean was still a child trapped in an adult body, he would spend these afternoons with Matt’s head on his lap, fingers trapped in Peake’s beautiful curls and they’re laughing at a Let’s Play some other group has put out. But that was before.

When Spoole sucked on candy every second of the day and Matt smiled at him, kissing him on the kitchen counter and calling him adorable.

When Matt slept with Sean at night, pressed up against each other as Peake found heat in his lover’s body and Sean found solace in Peake’s. 

When Spoole made a face at politics.

When Matt could groom himself without removing the cloth covering the mirror every morning.

Sean glances at the window as droplets streak down it, still unaccustomed to the Austin storms. Unlike LA, where it was mostly sunny and a cloud would pass every other week, Austin had storms that scared Spoole when he slept, the bed cold and lonely. 

He glances at Matt, planted on a seat away from him. Sean wishes Matt was on his lap, or at least close enough where he can reach out for his boyfriend, his handsome, tired, exhausted looking boyfriend. With his pillow and a spare blanket folded away on a square of the couch. 

This doesn’t feel right, like the spark they had is nothing now. Not even a weak ember, because then there would be hope. Between them, it was like they were strangers again, unsure of what the other likes anymore. Did Matt still like kissing ginger locks when Sean steps out of the steamy bathroom? Did Spoole still like making shy little innuendos and letting Peake guide him away from the living room?

Sean tugs out the earbuds and pushes his Mac away, standing up from his spot and letting the podcast wander. He’s not interested, hasn’t been since he started. France is so far away, but Matt feels even farther. Like no matter how hard Spoole tries, he’ll never be able to graze his love again. 

The cupboards are popped open and closed, Sean making yet another smoothie. He bypasses the oven, the poor thing cold and neglected. The office hasn’t seen fluffy pastries or warm cookies since this change overtook Spoole. In fact, the kitchen smells only of nutrition, not sweet vanilla and warm chocolate chips. The little cheats Matt would take just to see that sweet smile grace Sean’s beautiful soft face. 

When was the last time either of them had smiled? 

“Matt?” Spoole whispers, back to his boyfriend. “Do you want something to drink?”

[theamazingspooleo]

text: oatman||what did we need again? the supermarket lady is staring at me, sos.

text: oatman||matt she’s giving me the stink eye >m<

text: oatman||i’ve been staring at quaker oats...