Chapter Text
Matthew laced up the shoes, took a deep breath, and stepped out of the dressing room.
"Oh my god," Lovino shot up from where he'd been lounging on the fitting area couch. Matthew desperately hoped that Lovino was more impressed with this outfit then he had been with others. "This is the look, this is definitely it. Gwen?"
Guinevere looked up from her phone (it had been difficult to get the salesperson to let her on men's side, to say the least, but money spoke to people) and gasped, "Oh, it's perfect. I want to buy him galaxy-patterned things and scarves and shirts that ironically reference things that he hasn't even heard of."
"I feel like he's about to tell me about some indie band that literally no one cares about. Go get someone to scan this so he can wear it out."
Matthew glanced down at himself, at the flannel and the tee and the jeans and the plain Converse. He blinked. "This looks exactly like what I usually wear. I mean, the shirt's a v-neck and the jeans are skinny, but otherwise."
Lovino waved a hand. "What you usually wear is like, 'colorblind teen lumberjack'. This is hipster chic."
Matthew waited for Lovino to elaborate. Lovino didn't.
"What's the difference?"
Lovino grinned and pulled out a silver card from his wallet as Guinevere came back with a salesperson.
"Hipster chic is much, much more expensive."
"This outfit probably costs more than my arm," Matthew whined when they were in the car, tugging at his new 'hipster chic' clothes.
"Hmm, yeah, but just barely; human arms only go for like $350 each on the black market."
"Do I want to know how you know that?"
Lovino smirked at Matthew. "Probably not."
Matthew nodded, switching gears, "So what's the plan?"
"There honestly isn't one besides throwing you and Julchen together. We'll all 'get separated' from you two, and you have it from there."
"Wait, really?" Matthew paled, "But, how do I-"
Lovino rolled his eyes, "Look, I'm not like, a Hallmark movie style matchmaker. Like, the reason I don't take everyone who asks me for 'matchmaking'? It's not like I have some sort of magic potion that I can slip into the drinks of some chick's crush, you know? I just sort of shove people at each other and hope for the best. It's a lot of finger crossing and 'subtle' hints and just looking to see if people are compatible."
"I don't know, Lovino, that sounds a lot like Hallmark movie matchmaking to me."
"Have I mentioned that I liked you better when you were afraid of me?" Lovino took his eyes off the road for one (mildly terrifying) second to toss Matthew an unamused look. "The point is I can't make Julchen like you. I can't wave my hand and make sure that she'll think you're amazing and perfect and all she's ever wanted. But I can read people, and I think that she likes you too. So I'm not just throwing you to the Potato and leaving, I'm throwing you to the Potato and hoping that everything will work out. And believe me, I think that it will. Do you trust me?"
Matthew swallowed thickly. Julchen liked him? She didn't think he was too quiet or too boring or too plain? Matthew looked up at Lovino, whose smile had a nervous edge to it. He's not magic, Matthew reminded himself, He's just really good at reading people. And he thinks that Julchen likes you. "Yeah. I-I think I can do this, if you think she really likes me."
"Good," Lovino slid (literally slid, there were probably skidmarks on the ground, oh lord) into a parking spot and clicked off his seatbelt. "Because we're here."
With a nervous glance at the amusement park, Matthew took a deep breath. "I'm ready."