Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It’s powerful, to piece someone’s life together.

That’s what Jonas says, anyway, but Jonas takes everything too seriously. Matteo does too, but he doesn’t talk much, and he shares even less. Someone as thoughtful as Jonas couldn’t survive the severity of Matteo’s thoughts.

Matteo, at least, knows how to escape them.

He’s not in high school anymore, thank whatever the fuck is out there, so his habits are healthier now. He still drinks sometimes, and he still smokes more than he drinks, but mostly, he works. Ten, twelve, fourteen hours at a computer every day, editing other people’s lives.

Today, it’s Kiki’s Get Ready with Me. Matteo can already predict the comments:

when you know Capture’s run out of ideas

no one:
Kiki: Coconut oil is the elixir of life

uhh is anyone going to point out that Kiki used an eyeshadow brush instead of a concealer brush?

(Matteo does not know the difference between different make-up brushes, but it comes up enough in the comments for him to make an educated guess).

Kiki will pretend not to read the comments, then she’ll pretend that she doesn’t care, then she’ll vow that her next video will be perfect as she sends it to Matteo to edit.

But, Matteo doesn’t work for perfection, success, or even a promotion. Kiki’s busted her ass to become a producer, and for what? More stress and more bullshit. Matteo’s work is predictable, and more importantly, never-ending. There’s always another video to edit. There’s always someone else’s thoughts to drown out his own.

As he sends Kiki the first cut for her notes, Matteo notices his phone light up.

Jonas: Luigi
Let’s-a go

Matteo: ?

Jonas: Drinks?
We’re waiting for you

We changes every day, something Matteo doesn’t know how to be ok with. He glances at Jonas’s desk, with Hanna, Mia, Abdi, and Sam hanging around him. It’s an ok crowd, but Matteo checks his inbox first.

Scrolling past reminders to enter his timesheet and invitations to networking events he never attends, Matteo clicks on an email with the subject line: New Assignment.

And it’s from David Schreibner.

---

Matteo was not always a hard worker.

He barely graduated high school. He barely got into university. He barely cared about either of those facts.

It was Hanna who got him the job at Capture, though everyone assumes it was Jonas. After all, he’d worked there longer, was higher up in the company, and, by title, was Matteo’s best friend. But, as Jonas told Matteo one night after enough beers to become brutally honest, he couldn’t fuck with his own career to help the guy who ghosted his last part-time job.

It was fair. Matteo didn’t blame Jonas for it. He can’t blame Jonas for anything, given how much Jonas could blame him for. Thing is, he kind of broke up Jonas’s relationship with Hanna in high school because he was into Jonas. Except there’s no kind of: his brain just like to pretends the situation had some nuance so he’s not an asshole. Maybe they would’ve broken up without Matteo’s intervention, but he can’t know that, which means the years they spent missing each other are his fault.

Jonas still has no idea. Hanna knows everything.

Hanna blamed him. Hanna blamed the fuck out of him, with an anger that was so deserved it was almost cathartic. It was a relief to be hated. He’d earned it.

And then she forgave him, with the kind of grace that belongs in religions he doesn’t believe in. Matteo still can’t really process that, but Lena, his therapist, says he doesn’t have to. He can just accept it.

Some days, he can, so it must’ve been a good day when Hanna offered to get him an interview. She got her job on her own, a fact she’s quick to remind people of when they learn that she and Jonas are dating and have known each other since adolescence. At Capture, Hanna’s an assistant to everybody, frequently seen with her phone in one hand, someone’s lunch order in another, and a variety of ridiculous props under her arm. She could have moved up by now, but she claims she’s happy just to help people.

She’s the only person Matteo believes that sentiment from.

Matteo started doing similar things: setting up lights, going on coffee runs. It was fine, but when Jonas asked him for help on an edit, Matteo realized there could be a career for him that’s more than fine. He just liked the focus it required, the precision that forced him to get out of his head. And the creativity, too. He’d forgotten that he was creative.

He works hard because everything else is either 1. unbearable or 2. will kill him.

That’s the other thing about editing, the choices. They’re minor ones, sometimes hardly noticeable. Zoom in here, cut this scene short. Play this soundbite over this section of B-roll. Use this font for this caption. It’s just nice to have them.

As Jonas and Hanna hang out without him, as it probably should be, Matteo reads his assignment from David.

Hi Matteo,

I’ve assigned you my 30 Days of Weightlifting video. Can you get a first cut to me by next Friday?

Thanks,
David

Matteo’s had exactly three interactions with David.

The first was on Matteo’s first day, as Hanna introduced him to everyone in the office. He recognized David from his videos, of course, but he was still caught off guard by how sweet his smile was in person. Matteo looked at him a second too long, but David did the same. When they shook hands, it was hot—literally, physically hot. Matteo thought that kind of shit happened in books, and not very good ones, but no. His hand became home to a thousand little sparks.

The second was in the kitchen, on a night both of them stayed late. Matteo was heating up pasta he’d brought for dinner. David was waiting for the microwave. Matteo said, “Late night.” David said, “Mm.” And then he gave Matteo another one of those sweet smiles. Matteo replayed the moments for weeks.

The third time, Matteo was at his desk. Amira was usually the lead editor on David’s videos, and she always asked for Matteo’s help with the more tedious, technical elements because he’s quick. But Amira was out sick and David’s video was due, so Matteo had to ask him a question. When he approached David, there was some kind of software Matteo wasn’t familiar with on his screen—an animation program, it looked like. And it was full of characters that weren’t quite animals, and weren’t quite creatures, but were clearly something unique. It was cool.

“What’s that?” Matteo had asked.

“A video,” David answered.

But he smiled again.

Matteo can’t sense the smile in David’s email, and it annoys him. As is procedure, he replies: Hey. Do you want to meet to discuss the creative?

David’s reply comes as quickly as Matteo sent his: No. It’s straightforward. I lifted weights and got stronger, mentally and physically. It’s shocking and revolutionary. No one before me has discovered that exercise is good for you. I will win a Nobel Prize. Or a fucking Streamy.

Sorry for the extra work. Amira’s off next week, but you come highly recommended, so blame her.

David’s a producer, but more importantly to the internet, he’s the best on-screen personality at Capture. He became popular after doing a series on gender identity. And Matteo gets his appeal: he really, really gets it. David’s tone will shift from thoughtful to mischievous in a way that’s so fucking endearing, so fucking likeable. And that smile, it cuts through the screen. Matteo hates to agree with commenters, but he understands the audience’s investment in David.

Matteo wants to meet about this video. He wants to make this straightforward video into something subversive, which he knows is too ambitious for Capture. Really, he wants to learn more about the characters he saw on David’s screen so he can help David make that video instead.

Mostly, he wants to have a fourth interaction with David, but Matteo does not pay much mind to what he wants.

So, he sends a quick Cool, and gets to work.

---

Matteo wishes he’d chosen the couch.

Lena’s office is out of her basement. Matteo walks into her house without knocking for his appointments, where her wife is supposed to greet him and offer him water. Most of the time, he’s so quiet that her wife doesn’t hear him come in, and Matteo goes downstairs for his appointment without knowing how to ask for the water he wants. He also doesn’t remember her wife’s name, so. It’s just a lot.

Lena’s basement has a couch and a chair. At Matteo’s first appointment, he did not want to be the stereotypical patient on the couch, so he sat in the chair. Lena assumed that was his preference, so he sits in the chair at every appointment, wanting to sprawl out on the couch instead.

He could tell her, that his throat is so fucking dry that he feels like can’t talk. That this chair has a spring loose that digs into his back. That he doesn’t know how to ask for what he needs from her.

But wherever she starts a session, Matteo just goes with it. He doesn’t have the energy to do much else.

Today’s easy, because they’re talking about progress. He’s cooking. He’s talking to his mom. He has a doctor’s appointment to get a referral to a psychiatrist to get a diagnosis that Lena can’t give him as a social worker, something he didn’t know when his work referred him to her. Matteo doesn’t know why, but he often feels the need to brag in therapy, for Lena to acknowledge how good he’s doing. That’s another thing he should probably bring up with her.

He drifts off as he talks, focusing instead on Lena’s cat. His name is Dobby, a reminder of how young Lena is compared to how old he expected her to be. Matteo fucking loves Dobby. He’s an asshole who will swat at you if you pet him a second too long, only to head-butt you minutes later for not giving him the attention he insisted he didn’t want. When Matteo doesn’t want to go to therapy, he goes for Dobby. He wonders if that’s why Lena has him.

“Matteo?” Lena says with a glance at her phone, a sign their time is almost up. “Is there anything you wanted to bring up this session? Something we haven’t talked about?”

I’m thirsty, Matteo thinks. I’m thirsty, and I don’t know how to ask for water.

“No.”

---

Matteo lives alone, against the recommendation of everyone. He tries not to spend much time there.

His saving grace is that he can work from home. He sends David the first cut of his weightlifting video, finished less than forty-eight hours after it was assigned to him. It’s fast, even for him, but that’s because it was fun to watch the footage. He’s edited similar challenges for Kiki, and they always follow the formula David alluded to in his email. Motivation, struggle, second wind, shock and awe at the results.

Matteo saw moments where David tried to stick to the formula, especially when Leonie nagged him from behind the camera. Mostly, though, he did his own thing. He mentioned that he’s been lifting weights since he was a teenager, and therefore framing this as a challenge is a bit disingenuous. He went on a nine minute and twenty-eight second rant about gym etiquette, reserving a specific kind of vitriol for people who don’t re-rack their weights. He recited Coach Gaines’ speech on being perfect from Friday Night Lights, fully in character; Matteo only knew the reference because David deadpanned it to the camera once he finished.

And still, David delivered a thoughtful monologue on the concept of strength, on how you don’t really have it until you try to use it. “Whatever strength you’re missing,” David said. “You can build it. I promise. Even if it feels like you can’t. Even if you need help from therapy, or medication, or your friends—that’s ok. We all need help with different things. But, you do need to try.”

Lena’s called Matteo strong because he asked for help through Capture’s employee assistance program. Because he goes to therapy once a week, even if it’s mostly for Dobby. Because he gets out of bed like every other person he interacts with.

Matteo does not believe her, nor does he believe David. It’s still nice, though. To see that David has that kind of optimism in him.

Within the hour, David’s replied to Matteo’s edit. Matteo’s surprised; he even knows that it’s too late to be working.

Hi Matteo,

You’re quick. Thanks. I like your edit, but it’s too long. Cut some of the stuff with me just fucking around—that stuff’s more suited for a cold open or a button. Also cut the part about this challenge being disingenuous. If people learn that people lie on the internet, the entire institution crumbles. I’m not going to bother with more detailed notes on this video—you get the idea.

Thanks,
David

Matteo does not want to make those changes, but hey. What the fuck does he know anyway? He sends an Ok, receiving a reply moments later.

And go to sleep, Matteo. This job is not that important.

Matteo feels something like a smile on his face, strange and not as sweet as David’s.

But it is to you? Matteo writes.

No, David replies. Just a vampire.

I can’t believe you haven’t turned that into content yet. Are you even a creator?

No. Again: vampire.

Matteo wants to keep up the bit, but he doesn’t think he’s as funny as David is, and he feels a bit of a guilty thrill at the idea of David staying up late to talk to him. He’s surprised when he gets another email from David anyway.

I have a bunch of videos I’m trying to get out so I can focus on another project. I know you have your own workload, but if you have time, could you help me with them?

I don’t think it would be smart for me to say no to a vampire, Matteo writes. He waits five minutes for a reply before concluding that he’s annoyed David by taking the joke past where David stopped it. Quickly, he sends: I can do it. No problem.

Matteo closes his laptop and throws his phone further than arm’s reach away. He is suddenly exhausted, because he feels like, maybe—

He’s starting to piece his own life together.

Chapter Text

Matteo made a promise to Lena.

He has to make at least one plan every weekend. It has to get him outside. It has to take at least an hour. It has to be around other people, even if he doesn’t interact with them. It can’t be working overtime.

Sometimes, he sees a movie. Or he takes a walk in the park. Or he spends an absurdly long time at the grocery store. On good days, he tries to meet the spirit of the assignment instead of the criteria of it.

He thought today was a good day, so he’s at Jonas and Hanna’s apartment. And he’s only been here forty-two minutes, but it’s hit him suddenly, the way his exhaustion always does. He wants to go home. He wants to go to bed. He feels like he could cry, if he were a person who did that.

But they’d worry about him if he left, and they’d be right to, so he stays. He can’t have that fucking conversation again. He remembers the day Hanna invited him to walk on their break, then casually mentioned Capture’s employee assistance program to him. “It’s completely confidential,” she said. “And I’ve used it. It helped.”

Nothing about Matteo’s illness was confidential, though. By policy, sure, but he took two fucking weeks off work. When he’d never taken a day off before. When it wasn’t flu season, and there’d been no accident, and everyone knew that he was fine. When they all speculated about how fucked up his brain must be, and Matteo knew it, because Hanna’s next words were, “Matteo. I think you’re worse than you think you are.”

She was right, but it was mortifying, to know she’d thought of him like that.

That sentence, I think you’re worse than you think you are, is stuck in Matteo’s brain like glitter. His roommate, Hans, wore it, and just when Matteo thought he’d vacuumed it all up, something shiny would catch his eye. Just when he thinks he’s recovering, he remembers that he can’t trust in his own perception of himself, that he has more work to do than even he understands. Hanna did not say it for Matteo to obsess over it like this, he knows that, but Hans didn’t wear glitter to turn their apartment into a disco ball either. Some things are just fucking persistent.

Sometimes when Hanna looks at him, Matteo worries she’ll say it again. Like he hasn’t made any progress at all, like he’s not going to therapy and following through on his promises to Lena. Like he’s backslid, and really, how the fuck is he supposed to know if he has? Depression’s a fucking liar, so if Matteo has depression, what can he trust in?

So, he just avoids the conversation. Jonas is better at that than Hanna is. He just doesn’t ask. He expressed concern when Hanna did, but when Matteo assured him that he’d go to therapy, that was the end of it. Like ok, he’s magically better now, nothing to worry about anymore.

It’s not fair for Matteo to be angry at Jonas for not following up with him and annoyed with Hanna for checking in too much. He knows that. He’s just tired.

Alone with Hanna while Jonas picks up pizza for them, she says, “I heard you’re working with David now. He’s sweet.”

“Yeah,” Matteo says. “He’s cool.”

“There was one day where I was helping with like, three different shoots. One with him, one with Sam, and one with Kiki. When I was on set with him, Kiki was texting me about how I’d gotten all the ‘wrong’ props and needed to fix it before her shoot, which was in an hour—I was just really, really stressed. So, David got me lunch. No one’s ever done a lunch run for me before. Not even Jonas, the asshole.”

Matteo’s not sure what he’s supposed to say. He feels bad that he doesn’t help Hanna more. He knows that wasn’t the point of her story, but there’s still a pit in his stomach.

“Nice.”

“Uh, yeah. It was.”

Hanna checks her phone, but not long enough to read anything. She looks up at Matteo and says, “How’s therapy going?

She saw it in him again. Matteo really wants to leave.

“Fine.”

“Matteo—”

She’s cut off by the door opening. Jonas comes on with more pizza than the three of them can eat, and Matteo quickly realizes why.

“Found these guys on the street,” Jonas says as Abdi and Carlos follow him in.

“Famished,” Carlos says.

“Freezing,” Abdi adds.

“And following me home no matter what once they learned I had pizza,” Jonas says.

And then Abdi’s saying he’s going to text Sam, that tonight’s going to be when he asks out. Which means that Carlos has to invite Kiki, otherwise she’ll feel left out. And if Sam and Kiki are coming over, Mia and Amira may as well too. Maybe even Sara, Leonie, and David, to put an end to mumbling about cliques at the office.

Matteo barely even registers David’s name. There’s too many others, and he overhears Hanna pull Jonas aside and say the same, because it’s still his instinct to eavesdrop on their conversations.

“I thought it was just going to be us tonight,” Hanna says.

“What do you mean?” Jonas says. “Matteo was already here.”

Hanna rolls her eyes, and Matteo feels guilty again, for being the extra person. And he doesn’t want to stay anyway--he doesn't have to stay. It’s already been an hour. It’s fine.

He’s fine, and he tells Hanna that as he leaves.

---

Maybe it counts, watching footage of David.

No, Matteo is not literally, physically around him, but he feels like he is. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible, the way David’s energy transfers through the screen. Matteo barely knows how to transfer his own energy to himself.

Most of the videos are about exercise: ten, fifteen, and thirty day challenges, some of which must’ve occurred concurrently. He runs, takes a spin class, tries yoga. He’s good at everything but a dance class, but Matteo likes that footage the most, because David’s stumbles bring out his laugh. It’s just a nice sound.

Matteo doesn’t want to edit any of it, which is unusual. Other people ramble, or they speak too slowly, or they spend ten minutes on a bit that isn’t funny, but every moment that David’s on screen feels meaningful. He only says what he needs to, and sometimes not even that. He can talk slowly, but there’s a strange life to his pauses--like Matteo really is listening to him speak. And he’s never not funny, even when he’s fucking around, even when Matteo knows it’s a stupid joke--he’s funny.

He needs direction. Matteo knows that David won’t want to meet about any of the videos. That David will insist they’re all formulaic, but fuck that, David’s not formulaic. People are missing out on him.

It’s Saturday night. It’s late, and Matteo knows that David’s with Jonas, Hanna, and all the other people Matteo still doesn’t know how to call friends. Still, he opens his inbox to compose a new email, because he can’t think about where he’s not right now.

Hi David,

Your footage is so good that I don’t know how to edit it. Can we meet next week?

Thanks,
Matteo

Matteo hesitates before sending, because it’s not enough of a message for the boy in the videos. It needs energy, life--just some fucking humour. So, Matteo searches Google for bad dancing gifs, using the third result so it looks like he tried. He attaches it to the email because he doesn’t have David’s number to text him, and adds a line: P.S. Nice moves. 

He hits send and regrets it. Because he just attached a fucking gif to an email.

As Matteo continues to watch the footage, David’s voice is interrupted by the ding notifying him that he’s received an email. His eyes drift to the message preview in the corner of the screen, catching David’s name.

Matteo promptly closes his laptop. He wasn’t expecting a response tonight. His brain doesn’t know how to shift from work into a social space, not now, not when he just left that. He’s worried David will say no. That he’ll tell Matteo not to email him on a fucking Saturday night. That he knows the way everyone knows, and he’ll tell Matteo the truth about himself: I think you’re worse than you think you are.

Matteo closed his laptop, but he has a phone, so he picks that up instead. It’s not like he could sleep thinking like that, anyway.

Matteo,

Are you trying to get a promotion? Because I have no klout at Capture beyond my name. Corporate does not like me.

Or do you actually believe that I’m a vampire and that’s why you only email me in the middle of the night? In which case, that’s very respectful of you.

We can meet. One hour in the alley outside of the office. I don’t know if you’re religious, but don’t wear a cross. Or garlic. Or bring a stake. You know, normal things.

Or you can find me at work next week and we’ll talk.

Your choice,
David

P.S. Nice gif

David’s attached a gif of an old man using a computer, which makes Matteo smile as he writes his reply.

I’d meet you tonight, but I do wear a garlic necklace everywhere I go. And carry a stake. Honestly, I’m more likely to do either of those things than wear a cross. Next week’s fine.

I thought you’d be at Jonas and Hanna’s with everyone else?

David’s reply takes longer than his first one. Matteo worries that he’s come off creepy, for knowing where David’s been invited, for intruding on an aspect of his life that’s not work.

But the reply still comes.

No. I drain people. I thought you’d be there too.

“You don’t,” Matteo says, out loud to no one. But of course he doesn’t. There are literally millions of people that watch his videos because he gives them something. That’s a fucking feat.

But Matteo doesn’t write that, because that’s not the kind of relationship they have, even if Matteo desires that. He’s not Hanna; he’s not the helper.

He’s the one who needs help.

---

Monday morning, Jonas stays at Matteo’s desk too long.

He does it a lot, fucking around to procrastinate actually getting to work. Matteo wants to tell him that he’s behind, that he’s stressed, that he needs to focus, but Jonas will know all three of those things are a lie. He just doesn’t want to talk about the fucking weekend anymore.

“Something changed between Abdi and Sam last night,” Jonas says, in the middle of a story Matteo’s already forgotten the beginning of. “He didn’t ask her out, but according to him, they ‘connected.’ Let me stress the according to him . But she’s at his desk right now, and it’s all smiles, lots of conversation--bro, we might have to find you a suit.”

“What?”

“To be a groomsman?”

Matteo shakes the idea off. Abdi wouldn’t actually consider him a friend.

“It’s probably good you left on Saturday,” Jonas continues. “Hanna was pissed at me.”

Matteo’s starting to feel like there’s always a pit in his stomach. He doesn’t understand how it can keep getting deeper. It’s just--it’s his fault. Again and always.

“And I had a wicked hangover in the morning. I swear, I can’t party anymore. I miss my youth.”

Matteo smirks. “When you’d throw up after two beers?”

“Exactly.”

They’re interrupted by David approaching them--which, holy shit, David’s approaching them. Matteo did not anticipate next week beginning on Monday morning, but it’s here, and David’s here--

And he looks really fucking good. Everything that’s beautiful about him on screen is brighter in person. It’s enough to make Matteo gawk, just a little.

While he does that, Jonas has an actual conversation with David like an actual human. Something about how they missed him on Saturday, then about one of his videos, then about the weather, because why not? Jonas knows how to talk to people. Matteo’s tuning out, until he hears, “Good morning, Matteo.”

It’s the first time David’s said his name. Matteo didn’t know it could sound as nice as that.

And then, David’s handing him a coffee: large, from the pretentious cafe around the corner. It’s fucking good coffee, but Matteo never buys it for himself.

“Here,” David says, “Figured you didn’t rest much this weekend.”

Matteo should’ve thought to buy one for David; he was up late too. He should’ve known the nice thing to do.

Jonas raises his eyebrows at the interaction. “Out saving princes, Luigi?”

Matteo can’t meet David’s eyes at that, but he feels David’s on him. “Just working,” Matteo says.

“Shit. You’re going to make me look bad for spending half an hour at your desk.”

“I think you’ve managed that on your own.”

Jonas takes that as a cue to leave, but David lingers. “I don’t even know if you like coffee,” he says, almost like an apology.

“No, I do. This is uh, really nice. Thanks.”

Matteo remembers Hanna’s story, the fact that David is someone who does nice things for people when they’re stressed. He’s grateful, but this doesn’t make him special.

“So we can see if one of the boardrooms is free,” Matteo says to break their silence. “If you want to meet now?”

David looks surprised. “Shit--sorry. I’m shooting all day. Just find me sometime this week when you’re free, ok?”

Matteo agrees, even though the idea of just finding him sometime stresses him out. David will always be busier than he is; Matteo will always be imposing on his schedule.

Once David’s gone, Matteo tries the coffee. He hasn’t had it since Hanna treated him on his first day. It is really fucking good, far superior to the McDonalds coffee he buys every morning. As a gift, he’ll enjoy it.

But he won’t buy it again.

Chapter Text

Matteo doesn’t know where he’s going.

In the most literal sense, he’s lost. He could muse about the symbolism of that, about how he’s unable to find his way to the place that will help him help himself, but he’s too tired. It’s early, he hasn’t had coffee, and he’s going to be late for his appointment. And if he’s late for his appointment, if Dr. Fischer even agrees to see him, he’s going to be late for work. And if he’s late for work, people are not going to assume he got stuck in traffic, or that his alarm didn’t go off. They’re going to see it as a symptom of apathy, which is a symptom of depression, which is a signal that he’s not ok enough to get help by himself.

Matteo hasn’t been to the doctor in four years. The last time was a last resort for wicked, wicked pain that left him bedridden, at a time when he was in a good place mentally. That was so fucking frustrating, that his body had to be sick when his mind wasn’t, that he kept losing time to the universe insisting sorry, Matteo, but you’re still not well.

He went to his doctor first, the one he saw as a kid, the one that almost dropped him as a patient because his mom would forget about his appointments. Matteo always resented him for that threat, because how the fuck can a doctor punish someone for being sick, but he was all Matteo knew. He was convinced it was a sinus headache, even when Matteo said he was convinced it wasn’t. Matteo thanked the doctor when he left, then he thanked the receptionist, then he went outside and threw his phone on the ground because his anger had to go somewhere.

He tried a walk-in clinic next. The duty doctor said it was just stress and seemed annoyed that Mateo had wasted her time with it when there were twentysomething sick patients in line after him. Matteo had already given his anger to his doctor, so he absorbed the guilt from the duty doctor instead.

Finally, he went to the medical centre at his university, where the doctor said she didn’t know what it was, but they’d run through the options together until they figured it out. It felt like the nicest thing anyone had ever done him. 

(It was his wisdom teeth, in the end. Beyond the pain of them coming in, they were full of cavities. But Matteo hadn’t been to the dentist in longer than he hadn’t been to the doctor).

If Matteo were still a student, he would’ve gone back to the medical centre, but nothing about his treatment can be that easy. When Lena asked him if he had a doctor, he lied and said he didn’t, because he couldn’t imagine that his doctor would understand that his symptoms are more than grogginess from a fucking sinus infection. He told her he wasn’t comfortable with walk-ins either, so she referred him to Dr. Fischer. He just can’t find her fucking office, even as he follows the blue dot on his phone.

He was told to be ten minutes early fill out paperwork, and that’s already impossible given there’s only eight until his appointment. Maybe it’s a sign, he thinks, that he’s not ready for this appointment today. That he should just go to work, and he’s walking back to the bus stop when he considers what he’ll tell Lena. Sorry, I bailed on the appointment because I didn’t really look at the directions ahead of time and got lost enough to be late. Never mind that I could’ve just ask someone for help. Never mind that doctors are always behind anyway. Never mind that I gave up before I was actually late—

He can’t. Lena won’t judge him; she’s promised him that and stuck to it. But, he’s supposed to be doing better. She has to know that he’s doing better.

Matteo turns back around, flags someone down, and asks them for directions. The clinic is where Google Maps said it would be, but its signage is hidden behind another building. If Matteo had just walked closer to it, he would’ve found it.

In the end, he’s on time—kind of, with only three minutes to full out lengthy paperwork. Matteo expects the receptionist to make a smart comment to him, but he doesn’t. When Dr. Fischer calls him for his appointment, remarkably on time herself, she notices the clipboard in Matteo’s hand and says, “Oh, I’ll take that,” with a smile that’s too bright for eight in the morning.

He doesn’t know how to tell her that he wasn’t finished, so he doesn’t say anything.

“So, Matteo,” Dr. Fischer says once he’s in her office. “What brings you in today?”

Matteo freezes. He just assumed Lena would’ve told her, and he says as much.

“She can’t speak for you without your consent,” Dr. Fischer says. “There are forms you can fill out so she and I can talk directly. Is that something you’d be interested in?”

Matteo nods. He has a vague memory of Lena telling him the same, but it was framed differently. Like, if you need me to talk to Dr. Fischer, let me know. Like maybe he should learn how to fucking speak for himself like every other adult can.

“I can sense that you’re uncomfortable, Matteo,” Dr. Fischer says. “Let me remind you that you have full agency here. If you don’t want to tell me anything, you don’t need to tell me anything. But if there’s something you need help with, and you’re comfortable sharing that with me, I’ll do everything I can for you.”

It’s like his first conversation with Lena, and Matteo can’t shake the sense that he’s already fucking done this. It took him a long time to get comfortable with Lena. He didn’t tell her that his mom had depression until the last five minutes of their first session. He didn’t tell her that he was gay until their third session, and when she asked why, he just shrugged and said it hadn’t come up.

“But it’s part of who you are, Matteo,” she’d said. “How does that not come up in your life?”

Which was a whole other thing, and that’s the thing. There are so many things to Matteo, so many parts of him, all of which are affected by his depression. It’s not like he broke his right arm but can still use his left one. It’s his brain, and it controls every other piece of him.

He has weekly, hour-long sessions with Lena to sort through it all, and now he’s supposed to condense it into ten-minute cliff notes for a person he just met? Who isn’t even a therapist? And Matteo hates doctors. He really fucking hates them.

He wishes Dr. Fischer had a cat.

“I don’t know where to start, really,” he says. “I have symptoms of depression, but uh. Lena can’t diagnose me, so it’s not, you know, official—”

“Low energy?” Dr. Fischer asks.

Matteo nods.

She runs through the checklist Lena’s already done with him: loss of appetite, loss of enjoyment, loss of giving a shit. “But it’s not all the time,” Matteo says. “I’m doing better than I was, but some days are just—shit.”

“Ok, here’s where I’d like to start,” Dr. Fischer says. “I’m not going to diagnose you after just meeting you, but you already know that you show signs of depression. I want to send you for bloodwork to see if there’s anything physical going on that’s contributing to your symptoms. We’ll call you when the results come in and go from there. Sound good?”

Matteo agrees because Dr. Fischer is remarkably on time and there are patients behind him. Because it seems like an objectively good idea to get some bloodwork done because it’s not like he’s been going for yearly check-ups. Because he still can’t speak for himself.

But the whole fucking point of going to Dr. Fischer was to get a referral to a psychiatrist. He knew he’d have to open up to the psychiatrist, but he didn’t realize he’d have to go through everything with the doctor too. She was supposed to be the messenger, but she feels like a dead-end.

He somehow failed a doctor’s appointment.

---

When Matteo gets to work after his appointment, he’s late, irritable, and flustered. He needs to find David, but he tells himself not to worry about it today; he’s in no state for a meeting. It’s only Tuesday, anyway.

---

On Wednesday, Matteo goes to David’s desk three times.

The first time he’s not there, Matteo does an awkward pivot back towards his desk.

The second time, he pretends he’s looking for some recording equipment that’s stashed near David’s desk, even though Matteo hasn’t helped with a shoot in months.

The third time, Leonie eyes him from her desk and says, “Do you need something?”

Leonie tends to blame Hanna for everything that goes wrong with her shoots. Matteo can’t stand her.

“No,” he says. “I’m good.”

He’s lost again. The map indicates that David should be here, but he isn’t, and Matteo doesn’t know what to do. He’s embarrassed that he’s looking for David because David won’t take the initiative to look for him. He’s embarrassed that he asked for the meeting at all and didn’t just figure shit out on his own like it’s his fucking job to do. He’s embarrassed that he’s worked up over this; Leonie wouldn’t get worked up over something like this.

He can’t ask her for help like he did the stranger outside the doctor’s office, so he bails instead.

---

On Thursday, Matteo doesn’t look for David at all. Let David try to find him if he fucking cares about his videos. Matteo tried, and he’s tired.

---

On Friday, Matteo panics.

Amira will back on Monday. He’s going to lose the assignment. She has standing meetings with David because she demands people’s time if she’s going to work with them; Matteo knows that from having a couple of classes with her in university. If he was late or unprepared for one of their study sessions, she’d pack up and go home. I won’t respect your time if you can’t respect mine.

Amira knows how to speak for herself.

And that’s the kind of person David should work with, but fuck. What impression will David have of Matteo if he just drops this? David asked for Matteo’s help, and Matteo said he could do it, so if he doesn’t—

He imagines David complaining about him to Jonas: Matteo’s irresponsible, he procrastinates, he’s a slacker. Jonas, thinking he was coming to Matteo’s defense, would say not to be too hard on him because he’s going through some shit.

David would stop seeing him as a person and start seeing him as an illness.

Sure, David could’ve looked for him, but that’s not what they agreed on. Matteo was to find him; it was part of the assignment. If he can’t even do that, he can’t do shit.

So, Matteo gets up and goes to David’s desk, where he finds David watching footage. It’s so easy that it’s almost infuriating.

Matteo clears his throat to let David know he’s there, but David doesn’t hear him through his headphones. Improvising, Matteo grabs a letter opener from David’s desk and taps his shoulder with the blunt end of it. After he’s done it, Matteo regrets it; that kind of interaction lives in their e-mails, not reality.

But David turns to him with a smile that damn near knocks Matteo out. He snatches the letter opener from Matteo’s hands, twirling it between his fingers. “Not quite a stake, slayer,” he says. “And you missed my heart.”

Matteo grabs the letter opener back. “Clearly, you haven’t kept up with advancements in slaying technology.”

“Oh?”

“Stakes are out. Too gothic. Too inaccessible. Too many splinters.”

“A big concern when you’re fighting vampires.”

“Letter openers are just the practical choice. And the heart’s too symbolic. Many a slayer has failed because they spent too long waxing poetic instead of just, you know, slaying. No one waxes poetic about shoulders.”

“Or they waste time making witty remarks. It’s all Buffy’s fault.”

They’re laughing, causing Leonie to send them a death glare. Matteo rolls his eyes, smiling when he realizes David’s doing the same.

“Leonie!” David yells, and she raises her eyebrows at him. “Are you jealous because I’m laughing with someone else?”

“Why should I be when you’ve never made me laugh?”

David puts his hand to his heart as though he’s wounded, and Leonie smiles. Matteo deflates, just a little, because David’s like this with everyone.

“Do you have time to meet?” Matteo asks, and David turns his attention back to him. It’s safest if they just talk about work. “I tried to find you earlier this week, but—”

“Yeah, sorry, it’s been hectic. But sure, I have some time now.”

Matteo freezes because he wasn’t expecting a yes. David rescues him and says, “Should we go to the boardroom?”

Matteo follows him to it without saying anything. He realizes he doesn’t have his laptop with him because he assumed this meeting wouldn’t happen. Or even a pen and paper. He could just go back to his desk to get his stuff, but he doesn’t want David to think he’s unprofessional, and he has a sneaking feeling that David will get pulled away if he leaves him alone.

So, like a true professional, he begins the meeting without any plan or method of taking notes.

David starts for the both of them. “It was nice what you said. About the footage being good.”

Matteo shrugs. “You’re fun to watch.”

“But you know the formula, Matteo. You know how to make videos that get views. What do you need my input for?”

“Because these videos could be better than that. Fuck the formula. You’re more interesting than it.”

David sighs, leaning back in his chair. “To be honest, I don’t really care how good these videos are. I just want to finish them to please corporate so they’ll let me focus on my own project.”

“Which is?”

“You saw it. The animation?”

Matteo had no idea David remembered that moment.

“What’s it about?” Matteo asks.

“Oh, see that’s how I know you’re not a creator. I have no fucking clue what it’s about. I just have characters and vague themes, like all the greats.”

“Your characters—those are the monsters?”

“They’re not monsters, they’re just—honest. Like, if I’ve done it right, they show the absolute ugliness and the absolute beauty someone can have. I like animation because bodies can’t be that truthful.”

David says all of that to the table, like he’s embarrassed, but Matteo knows now that he’s thoughtful too. He had his suspicions. “That’s cool.”

“You think?”

Matteo nods.

“It’s why I exercise all the time, too,” David says, a bit louder than he was talking before. “For a long time, my body felt antithetical to who I am.”

David’s looking at Matteo now, like he’s watching for his reaction. Matteo learned that David was transgender when he started his gender identity series, which was also when Matteo realized how ignorant he was about that kind of thing. He did some of his own research, but he learned the most from listening to David talk about his own experience.

So, he doesn’t have much of a reaction now, just another nod, encouragement for David to continue. Which David does, saying, “Working out gives me agency over my own body. I can understand it, build its strength, stretch it, rest it—I can love it.”

Matteo gets an idea.

“If you’re comfortable with it,” Matteo says. “What if your videos were just honest about that stuff?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Matteo says, figuring it out as he talks. “We can make the formulaic videos with the footage you have now, but then cut them together with animation of you doing the same things. And in the animation, you’re honest. Your feelings don’t always have to be inspirational. You can make stupid jokes—”

“Rude of you to assume I’m not always hilarious.”

“You are, though. It’s in the footage. People just haven’t seen it.”

David studies him, and Matteo’s nervous that he overstepped. All of his creative choices at Capture have been small, stylistic ones. This is how to tell someone’s story, with David doing the actual telling of it, and—

“Only if you’re ok with it,” Matteo says.

“You already said that.”

“It matters. It’s your life.”

“It’ll be a lot of work.”

“I work all the fucking time.”

“Me too.”

Matteo shrugs because there’s nothing left for him to say. It’s David’s choice now.

Before David can respond, Hanna comes into the boardroom. “Sorry for interrupting,” she says, and it feels like she should be. “But David, you’re supposed to be shooting a taste test with Abdi right now?”

“Fuck, I forgot,” David says, already standing up. Turning his attention to Matteo, he says, “I’ll think about your idea. We’ll talk later?”

Matteo’s already stressed about when later will be, but he agrees because that’s his only option. Once David’s left the room, Hanna says, “He’s nice, right?”

Nice is not enough of a word for David, but Matteo’s not ready to tell Hanna the words he would use for him. “Yeah.”

“So,” Hanna says after a beat of silence. “Any plans for the weekend?”

That question is the office small-talk Matteo dreads most, especially when he hasn’t considered how he’ll fulfill his promise to Lena. It’s supposed to rain, there are no good movies out, he’s well-stocked grocery wise, and he can’t put Hanna and Jonas out again.

Maybe he’ll go to the gym.

Chapter Text

Matteo has a gym membership because he had a good day.

Other things he has because he had a good day: a nice blender. A houseplant. A button-down shirt that fits properly.

“I’m not saying there are magic cures,” is something Lena would say on a good day. “You’ve been working through this long enough to know that. But, there’s a reason you hear about the importance of nutrition and exercise your entire life. They make a difference.”

And Matteo would be motivated, because that was an easy change. Throw a handful of spinach in a smoothie because you care about your health. Water a plant because you can take care of things. Wear a nice shirt because you value yourself.

Join a gym because you are strong—really, you are.

He got the membership months ago, but hasn’t used it. Through Capture, he has a corporate discount at Fitness World, a franchise of big box gyms with convenient locations, high-end cardio equipment, and more! He assumed he’d sign-up online, go in to pick up his pass, and that would be it. Instead, he got multiple voicemails from a personal trainer/sales associate, informing him that he needed to call her back to set-up an appointment for an orientation. Matteo deleted the messages until she gave up like he did.

It’s frustrating, that something like that can stop him from following through on an easy change. It’s other words like shameful, lazy, and pathetic, but Lena tells him to use frustrating. It’s the food he couldn’t scrub out of the blender when he took too long to rinse it out. It’s how long he took to throw out the houseplant after its premature death. It’s the stain on the shirt that won’t come with a simple wash. It’s fucking frustrating.

Lena would also tell him there’s no such thing as an easy change, but. Even on good days, Matteo needs to believe in them.

And fuck, Matteo is going to force today to be a good day, because he’s overdue for one. He calls the gym’s main line and asks if he can come in today for orientation. He expects them to ask why he’s waited so long to make an appointment, but they don’t. He makes a half-decent, if simple, breakfast: eggs and spinach on toast. He texts his mom and wishes her a good day because she deserves one too.

He expects to sleep for at least ten hours tonight.

At the gym, Matteo meets Finn, who gives him a tour while trying to sell him personal training packages Matteo’s not interested in. He could just tell Finn that and save them both the breath, but instead he mumbles the occasional oh and yeah to indicate that he’s listening.

When Finn asks him about his goals, Matteo blanks. It’s not like he’s interested in bulking up. “I just think it’ll be good for me,” he says. “Mentally.”

It’s always easier to tell strangers.

Finn leaves him to workout after that, but he asks Matteo to check in with him before leaving to get his pass. Matteo wants to ask for it now because Finn could be giving someone else a tour by the time he’s done, but he just nods and says, “Ok.”

And then he doesn’t know what the fuck to do.

He didn’t bring a lock for his backpack, so he lugs it around as he checks out the machines, earning a few glares as he nearly bumps people with headphones on and focused eyes. He reads the instructions on the weight training machines, but he doesn’t know what his starting weight should be, nor is he able to adjust the machines the way the diagram shows. He could ask for help, but—

Matteo doesn’t know why he bothers with hypotheticals about what he could do. It’s not like he’s going to.

He has no desire to run, but at least he knows how to walk, so he goes for the treadmill. Even with that, he doesn’t know which program to select, so he presses Manual and begins.

Within two minutes, as he knows from the treadmill’s timer, he is bored out of his mind. He’s listening to music, which usually helps, but now it feels like it's pushing him to go to some exhausting, elevated place, chase that runner’s high he knows about from David’s videos. Matteo is pretty sure that place isn’t for him, so he keeps a slow pace, and wonders why he didn’t go for a fucking walk like he usually does.

He makes himself go for ten minutes because anything less feels shameful, lazy, and pathetic. So does ten minutes, really, but at least he can frame it as a goal he achieved. His life’s become about hitting the easiest milestones.

As he gets off the treadmill, Matteo glances at the weight section, where he sees David. His heart-rate goes up the way it should’ve in his workout. Matteo looks around for someone filming, but David is alone.

And so is Matteo. He could go over, and then neither of them would be alone, and that could be nice.

Matteo hesitates because he’s unsure if he should interrupt David’s workout, though it went ok when he interrupted David on Friday. Well, partially because of that, but also because David’s currently lifting a barbell over his head and it looks…good. Matteo watches the muscles in his shoulder work, the sweat that illuminates him as though he wasn’t bright enough before. He remembers what David said in his video, about how you don’t really have strength until you use it. He thinks David might be the strongest person he’s ever met.

Matteo realizes that he is waxing poetic about shoulders. 

David puts the barbell down with a force that shakes the floor, though Matteo may be the only one feeling that. Chugging his water, David turns around and catches Matteo’s gaze. Matteo feels a hot flush in his cheeks that he’ll blame on the workout he didn’t do.

He goes over to David because it’s weirder if he doesn’t. And because he wants to.

“Nice timing,” David says. “I just finished my superset.”

“I don’t know the language you’re speaking.”

“Oh, it’s gym bro. I picked it up through immersion. Use words like macros and gains, but also throw your weights down and grunt every now and then.”

“What are you training for?” Matteo asks due to the lack of camera crew. It can’t be for a video.

“World domination, of course.”

“Good luck with that.”

“Thank you, but I will be successful.”

What Matteo wants to say next is something he shouldn’t say, something that borders on flirting, something he hasn’t done since Jonas. But being around David, he feels like he can say it anyway.

“What will you do with me?” Matteo asks. “When you take over the world?”

David smirks, studying him. He doesn’t seem put off or embarrassed. He seems game, and it boosts Matteo’s confidence.

“I’ll appoint you to my counsel.”

“Really?”

“You have good ideas, like with my videos. And I’d like having you around.”

There is too much for Matteo to process in those two sentences, so he focuses on the part he understands. “You thought about it?”

David nods. “I like it. It’s creative, and I can showcase some other skills. If it does well, corporate might give us more freedom in the future.”

Something sparks in Matteo at David’s use of us.

“And you’re ok with it?”

“Because you’ve now asked me that three times, yes. I trust you with it.”

Matteo can’t be trusted with a blender, a houseplant, or a shirt. He still wants to try for David.

David asks Matteo about his workout after that, and Matteo admits that he doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing. “Just pick up something heavy and put it back down again,” David says. “And once you can do that, pick up something heavier.”

“That’s it?” Matteo says.

“That’s it.”

So, he tries. He goes for the barbell David just put down, but David laughs and says, “Maybe start with lighter plates.”

“Maybe start with lighter plates,” Matteo repeats, mocking. “How do you know that I’m not training for a strongman competition?”

“Because it’s not on the internet. Nothing’s real that’s not on the internet.”

Matteo takes David’s advice and swaps the plates out for lighter ones. He grabs the bar and lifts, a bit surprised by the weight, but he’s doing it, he’s getting it off the fucking ground.

Matteo remembers his first morning back at work after he took two weeks of sick leave. The night before, he was as certain as he’s been of anything that he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t get up, shower, eat, and get on a bus. He couldn’t talk to people—not his supervisor about the time he missed, not Jonas about the texts he ignored, not Hanna about the day she showed up at his apartment with McDonalds and said, “We don’t have to talk, but you don’t have to be alone either.” He couldn’t work and pretend any of it fucking mattered. He couldn’t do shit.

But he did, in the end. He got out of bed. He got off the fucking ground.

Maybe he does have something to be proud of.

David guides Matteo through different exercises, correcting his form along the way, but mostly, they laugh. They laugh when Matteo narrates the workout as though he’s a vlogger. They laugh when David uses Matteo’s backpack as a weight to do the exercises alongside Matteo. They laugh because they’re laughing, especially once they realize the glares they’re receiving from the serious gym-goers around them. It’s just fun, to be the one in on the joke.

When they finish and David asks Matteo if he wants to grab something to eat, Matteo’s laughing too much to consider saying no.

---

They end up at an Indian place, with bowls of curry that feel endless and fresh naan on the side.

Matteo loves food. He loves restaurants that serve meals he’s never heard of. He loves to adapt recipes to his whims. He loves sharing dishes with other people. He’s a fast eater, and a messy one, but that does not mean he’s unappreciative.

That was when he knew something was wrong. When he couldn’t taste food anymore.

He’s grateful to be here with David now.

They talk shit, mostly. They rip on the Wellness Wednesdays emails from Capture’s CEO, which stress the value of taking breaks despite the company’s demanding deadlines. They speculate about Abdi and Sam’s relationship. They rank all the lunch options within walking distance from the office, which ends in a heated debate that has Matteo laughing too loudly again.

Eventually, they’ve talked enough shit that all that’s left is to talk about something real. David, thankfully, takes the lead on that. “Can I show you something?” he asks Matteo, pulling a sketchbook out of his backpack.

Matteo nods as David hands it to him, opened to a portrait of…well, Matteo thinks it’s David, but it doesn’t look like him at all. “Is this you?”

“Yeah. For the animation.”

“It’s not right.”

“Thanks for that.”

“No, it’s good. Really fucking good, but it’s not you.”

“What do you mean?”

Matteo points to the portrait as he explains. “Your eyes are, I don’t know, more alive than that. Your smile, too. And—fuck, did you seriously give yourself fangs?”

“The vampire thing.”

“Yeah, the vampire thing is a fucking bit. It’s not who you are.”

“You barely know me.”

“Fuck that. I know that you don’t drain me. And everything drains me.”

It is so much more than Matteo expected to say, and David seems surprised by it too. With an eye on Matteo, he flips to another page in his sketchbook, wearing something like a blush on his cheeks.

It’s Matteo, but it’s that weird thing, like when you see yourself in an old picture and it doesn’t quite register as you. It’s him, but it’s not how Matteo would draw himself.

There is also the fact that he’s in a plumber’s outfit with a green cap on his head. “Luigi?” he asks.

“I heard Jonas call you it,” David says. “And I thought it was cute.”

Matteo understands then, what’s happening here.

He likes David, but he already knew that. He is used to having background crushes, boys who make the day a bit more interesting. He rarely talks to them. He doesn’t laugh with them.

They never flirt with him.

David asks Matteo if he’s free after this and he is, of course he fucking is, but he says no. He can’t date someone, because then that person would have to date him. And Matteo is a person who considers it a fucking accomplishment when he gets out of bed.

He is a person who ignores texts. He is a person who has never dated. He is a person whose life revolves around his next therapy appointment. He is a person who either doesn’t feel shit or gets too angry to function. He is a person who broke up his best friend’s relationship and still hasn’t told him the truth. He is a person who ignored his mom for a year, a whole fucking year, because she was sick the same way he is now. He is a person who gets so irritable that he can’t even stand to be around himself, and he really can’t, he can’t stand himself.

He is a person who can’t clean a blender, or water a plant, or wash a shirt.

He hardly feels like a person at all.

“Too bad,” David says. “I had a good day with you.”

Matteo did too, but he can’t trust in his good days.

Chapter Text

Matteo,

You are my trusted and faithful editor, but I can’t take your notes. (If you tell Amira this, she’ll roll her eyes and say, “Of course.” She says that I’m too stubborn to reach my full potential. I think she’s right).

I have to keep the fangs. I know you think that’s not who I am, which is a nice thing for you to say, but you don’t really know me.

You don’t know that I run away sometimes, like a kid who’s mad they can’t have cake for dinner. I don’t know why I do it—sorry, that’s bullshit. Of course I know. I’m usually angry at something because I’m scared of a bigger thing, and my fight or flight is firmly set to flight. I don’t tell my sister where I’m going, even though she literally gets sick with worry. Seriously, I came home to her throwing up once, and I felt like the biggest piece of shit. I drain her.

You don’t know that I never broke up with my ex. I ghosted him, and it wasn’t some casual thing. He texted me to say the only reason he knew I was still alive was because I’m still posting fucking videos, then he called me every name that I deserve to be called. I drained him.

You don’t know that I’ve screwed Leonie over by missing deadlines to work on my own projects. You don’t know that Amira’s the only editor who will work with me because she’ll call me on my shit. You don’t know that I’m on a “performance improvement plan,” and the only reason I still have a job is because a video will get views if I’m in the thumbnail. I’m draining everyone.

I guess you know now. I’m glad that I don’t drain you, but I will. This email will probably do it—sorry, by the way. Note the timestamp and forgive me for whatever I say at whatever time this is.

Amira will be back on Monday. This is your get-out-of-jail-free card. I don’t think you’ll take it, so:

If we’re going to make videos that tell my story, I need to be honest with you about what it is. And in my story, I have fangs.

Hope you’re sleeping well, Luigi,
David

It’s Monday morning, when Matteo gets the email.

It is not a time that Matteo should be awake, but if he is, Lena said that he should focus on his breathing. Meditate, as though that’s a thing he’s capable of. And he should definitely, definitely not check his phone.

It’s like she’s never even heard of reverse psychology.

And Lena doesn’t know the kind of thoughts Matteo has at times he shouldn’t be awake, similar to the ones David expressed in his email. They’re fucking brutal, but it’s worse for David, that he has to experience them when he doesn’t deserve them. 

Dracula/Edward Cullen/Spike,

Ok. It’s your story. Just remember that you might be an unreliable narrator.

Sorry that I’m not sleeping well. Note the timestamp.

See you tomorrow,
Matteo

---

Matteo buys David the nice coffee.

He’s early for work anyway, as he never managed to fall back asleep. David’s not at his desk when Matteo arrives, but Amira is.

Matteo welcomes her back with a fist-bump and asks the mandatory question, how was your vacation, even though he doesn’t particularly care and hates when people ask the same of him. Yeah, it was nice to have a week off. A week not to work becomes a week not to leave the apartment, becomes a week not to shower, becomes a week not to talk to another person, becomes weeks and weeks of patterns if you’re not really fucking careful.

Amira doesn’t say any of that. She talks about her brother, friends Matteo doesn’t know, then says, “You stole my favourite producer.”

Matteo’s surprised; by David’s email, it seemed like Amira worked with David because she was capable of it, not because she enjoyed it. Then again, he can’t imagine spending time with David and not enjoying it.

And then he feels bad, even though Amira is teasing. She is very obviously teasing, but it’s easier to feel guilty than to meet her in a playful place. “Yeah. Sorry, he asked me to help out.”

Amira rolls her eyes. “I’m kidding, Matteo. I love David, but you just freed me up to work on pitches.”

“You want to be a producer?” Matteo had always assumed that Amira enjoyed the technical, somewhat tedious work of editing the way he did.

“No, but I want to be a manager. That’s how I get there.”

“David said,” Matteo begins, instantly regretting it because he feels like he’s talking about David too much. “That you think he’s stubborn.”

Amira snorts. “When he actually gives a shit about a project? Absolutely. I like it, though. It’s harder to work with producers who don’t know what they want.”

Of course David and Amira are a good team. They can both speak for themselves and ask for what they want. Matteo’s intrusion has ended a strong partnership.

(He briefly considers if it’s narcissistic, to think about himself so much).

Matteo’s brought out of himself by a slap on his back, from a hand that shouldn’t make him shiver anymore. “Yo, Luigi,” Jonas says, stepping into the middle of his conversation with Amira like he’s never considered that he doesn’t belong somewhere. “I thought you were sick when you weren’t at your desk.”

It’s not in Jonas’s voice, but it’s in his eyes: he did not think Matteo had a cold.

“I’m fine.”

Jonas nods because he won’t push the way Hanna will, which Matteo is still both angry and grateful for. As Jonas chats with Amira about her vacation with the genuine interest Matteo couldn’t muster, David comes in. Already carrying a nice coffee.

This is why Matteo doesn’t do this shit.

After the customary good mornings, David notices the coffee on his desk and smiles at Matteo. “Great minds,” he says, holding his own coffee up.

Considering their email exchange at fuck-off-o-clock, Matteo does not believe either of them have great minds.

“This is perfect,” David says. “I already know it’s the kind of Monday where I need two coffees.”

Matteo bites back a smirk, and says a thing he should stop himself from saying. “Long night at the graveyard?”

“So you really are a Buffy fan.”

Matteo nods; he likes that they like the same show.

But it is Monday morning, and Matteo hasn’t had his own coffee yet, and they’re not alone, and he barely knows how to be around David now, so he drops it there. David joins Jonas and Amira’s conversation, like he didn’t even notice that Matteo’s words fell to the floor.

When Matteo walks away, all three of them give him a look he pretends not to see.

---

“It sounds like you have a crush.”

Dobby’s playful today. Matteo has a few battle wounds from it, but he doesn’t mind. He seems happy. And Matteo has water, courtesy of Lena’s wife: Charlotte, he’ll remember that now.

It’s tricked him into talking. Specifically, into talking about David, because he has a lot to say on the subject. He’s told Lena about his videos, his emails, his smiles.

He now understands that he’s told her too much. 

“I don’t know,” Matteo says, though his own words remind him of David’s email. Sorry, that’s bullshit. Of course I know. “If it’s a crush. And it doesn’t matter, anyway.”

Lena furrows her eyebrows. “Why would you say that?”

She won’t let him get away with anything.

“Because—I mean, I’ve never dated before. I’m twenty-four, so.”

“So?”

She really, really won’t let him get away with anything.

“It should’ve happened by now. If it were going to happen.”

“Matteo, I think you’d be surprised by how many people your age haven’t dated before. Life is not like TV shows where everyone’s coupled off.”

David’s dated, though. He has an ex. Matteo remembers that from the email.

“Is there another reason?” Lena asks. “Why you would say that your crush doesn’t matter?”

Matteo doesn’t want to say it out loud, but that’s the fucking point of therapy. “Because I don’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“Because most days I’m just this lifeless, piece of shit. I don’t do anything. I don’t talk. David deserves someone who matters.”

“Do you think that’s how Jonas sees you? Or Hanna?”

Matteo shakes his head, because no, he truly doesn’t. They’ve been so good to him that it would be an insult for Matteo to believe they don’t love him. Sometimes he wishes they didn’t, sometimes he believes that it’s more familiarity than actual care, and most of the time, he feels so fucking guilty that they chose him as a friend. But no, he knows they don’t see him as he sees himself, even if he can’t understand it.

“Then how can you assume how David sees you?”

Maybe he can’t, but, “He’d get tired of me, though. Being a fucking caretaker.”

“You’re going to hate what I’m about to say because it’s a cliched therapist line, and I almost hate myself for saying it, but—can we talk about your parents?”

Matteo glances at Lena’s phone. There’s too much time left.

“I saw Dr. Fischer,” he says.

Lena lets him get away with it.

“That’s incredible, Matteo.”

“Not really. I just went to an appointment.”

“You took a proactive step in your recovery. That’s something to be proud of.”

Matteo shrugs; he’s never comfortable when Lena talks like this. “But I didn’t even know how to talk to her. I only had ten minutes with her.”

“Do you have a follow-up appointment?”

“I have to get bloodwork done, so. After that, I guess.”

“Then tell her more next time. You know this, Matteo, but recovery isn’t a fast process, nor is it a linear one. It’s just continuous work, and it can be really, really hard. But, you went to a doctor’s appointment. You’re going to get bloodwork done?”

Matteo nods, even though it’s been long enough since his appoint with Dr. Fischer that he should’ve gone by now.

“You joined a gym. You have a crush—and ok, I see your face, I won’t call it that. You made a new friend. It’s all progress, Matteo. And I’m really proud of you.”

It still feels like a low bar.

This is when he should bring up the consent forms Dr. Fischer gave him. This is when he should speak for himself. This is when he should ask for what he needs.

He doesn’t. Lena moves on, and Matteo’s distracted for the rest of the session because he’s thinking about the fucking consent forms.

He has water. He doesn’t understand why he still can’t speak.

---

Matteo’s mom got a haircut.

If he were the type of person to know what kind of haircut suited her, he’d say this one did. It suits her, to be the type of person who realizes they need a haircut, who makes an appointment and follows through on it.

“You look nice,” he says, and her smile suggests that she believes him.

Dinner was her idea, as was the restaurant. It’s some shitty chain that sells German food Matteo could make better at home. When his parents still thought they were in love, his mom told Matteo stories about how his dad wooed her with his cooking—real Italian food, he’d remind them with a pretentiousness Matteo thought was obnoxious even as kid. She doesn’t like to eat anything unfamiliar to her now.

She asks about work, how Jonas and Hanna are, if he’s talked to his dad recently. It’s fine, they’re fine, and fuck no, though he omits the curse for her sake.

He will not omit curses for his dad.

“I never liked Italy,” she says, which is a lie she tells a lot. It’s fucking Italy. Everyone likes Italy, though it’s worse for having his dad in it.

Because Matteo won’t carry the conversation anywhere, his mom moves on to the past weekend’s church service. “You would’ve liked it,” she says before launching into a sermon of her own. Matteo doesn’t know the Bible story she references, nor does he follow her interpretation of it. He tunes in and out of words like forgiveness and redemption and peace, but he already knows where this is going to end.

“And look at me,” she says. “Look what God’s done for me. Can you imagine the two of us being here like this, even a year ago? That’s a miracle, Matteo.”

If it were a miracle, his mom would’ve remembered to pick him up from Jonas’s, from school, and from soccer practice. Jonas’s mom wouldn’t have looked at Matteo in that specific, concerned-mom way, packing him containers full of leftovers. His own mom would’ve looked at him in that specific, concerned-mom way if she realized how he struggled in school. She would’ve come to one of his soccer games, as fucking cliched as that is. Matteo would claim any of those as miracles, but he refuses to do the same for years of therapy, experimenting with medication, and painful work.

He’s not an asshole. He won’t take his mom’s faith from her. He’s envious of it, honestly; even when she was living through hell, she believed in something. When Matteo went though hell, it stripped him of any kind of faith in any kind of thing, including himself.

But, come on. His mom deserves more credit than she’ll ever give herself.

“Maybe,” he says. “But you also just worked really hard for this.”

 She smiles at him, like when he complimented her hair.

“Thank you, Matteo.”

After dinner, Matteo Googles where to get bloodwork done.

Chapter Text

Matteo often wishes his life could function like a time-lapse.

It’s a useful effect; producers like Kiki don’t realize how boring most of their footage is. Speed it up, get to the point, then move the fuck on.

He can survive day the now. That doesn’t mean he wants to dwell in it.

So he notices, when he doesn’t feel that way. When he’s been in a meeting that he’d typically blow through in twenty minutes for over an hour, eyeing the clock with anxiety instead of annoyance. When he’s listening instead of editing a video in his head. When he’s laughing, and when he’s taking too.

Present, Lena would say. When you’re present.

Which is exactly what David’s talking about now, though with more cynicism than Lena’s capable of. They’re storyboarding a video about David trying yoga, their first collaboration under the new format since they put the weightlifting video out quickly to please corporate. In the footage, David spouts all the new-age bullshit about meditation and inner peace that Matteo hates. He can’t even take Lena seriously when she talks about it, and he tries really fucking hard to take Lena seriously.

In reality, David’s opinion is a little different.

“It’s not that I don’t believe in it,” David says, and Matteo’s relieved that he didn’t say too much and pollute their conversation with everything he doesn’t believe in. “For some people, it’s probably helpful. I just think it’s a privilege to be able to clear your mind like that.”

“What do you mean?” Matteo asks, unsettled when he hears Lena in his own voice.

“I mean,” David says, pausing like he’s trying to work it out. “I don’t think everyone’s mind fills up the way mine does.”

At Matteo’s silence, David says, “You’re going to ask me what I mean again.”

Matteo shrugs. “If you want to tell me, but—I think I get it.”

“It’s frustrating,” David says. “Because conventional wisdom is that something like yoga is exactly what should help someone like me. Theoretically, if I’m ‘present in the moment,’ I’ll get out of my own head.”

“Yeah,” Matteo says. “But your moment is different than anyone else’s because, you know, your head is there. You can’t just detach your brain for a moment of peace—unless that’s an advanced pose.”

David smirks, eyes lighting up in a really, really nice way. He’s been sketching throughout their brainstorm, and now he’s drawing the pose Matteo described—in a particularly gory fashion. With his head cut open, cartoon, fanged-David, is holding his brain outstretched in front of him, lifting one leg in the air. It’s still a yoga class, after all. “And the voiceover will say,” David says. “‘There. I’m at peace now.’”

“Might be too dark for Capture’s brand.”

“They don’t care as long as it gets views. My therapist, on the other hand, might have some questions.”

He says it so casually that it’s startling.

“Mine would.”

And then they’re talking about something else, and Matteo feels better. It’s not that he felt bad to begin with, because he was ok, but he’s now understanding that he can feel better than ok.

When they’re eventually interrupted, it’s by Hanna. “I’m so sorry,” she says, sounding like she means it despite this being her job. “But Matteo, you’re supposed to be in a meeting with Kiki right now?”

“Fuck,” Matteo says. “I completely forgot.”

“It’s cool,” David says. “We’ll continue this later.”

Matteo’s already looking forward to it.

“I really am sorry,” Hanna says as she leads Matteo out of the boardroom. “I tried to stall her.”

Matteo furrows his eyebrows at her, and Hanna raises her own, not-so-subtly nodding her head towards where David’s still sitting.

“Oh,” Matteo says. “It’s not—that’s not anything.”

“Are you sure?”

It can’t be, so. Matteo just shrugs.

“Well,” Hanna says with a sigh. “If you change your mind, I know David pretty well, and I make a great wing-woman. Whatever you need, Matteo.”

“Thanks.”

“I also wanted to ask you,” Hanna says. “If you wanted to come to the cabin this weekend? It’ll just be me and Jonas.”

Matteo tenses because he knows that the cabin is a getaway for Hanna and Jonas. If he’s invited along, it’s because they think he needs help, that he shouldn’t be alone, that he’s worse than he thinks he is.

He can’t relax around Hanna. What inspired this? The fact that he wasn’t making-out with David in the boardroom?

“I don’t want to be a third wheel.”

“Oh come on, we like having you there. We get sick of each other.”

But that’s not true either, because sure, if Matteo is ok all weekend, they might have fun. But if he sleeps Saturday away and works Sunday away, if he doesn’t eat at every meal, if he gives any indication that he’s not ok, they’re going to feel like they have to look out for him. He’ll ruin their trip, and he’s already ruined too much for them.

“Thanks, but—I’m behind on deadlines, now that I’m working with David too. And I think my mom wants to do something.”

Hanna frowns, but she doesn’t push any further. “Ok. If you change your mind—”

“I know.”

“About either thing.”

“I know.”

Hanna squeezes his shoulder and walks away once they reach the boardroom Kiki’s in. She’s waiting for him with arms crossed and a frown that feels different than Hanna’s.

And Matteo remembers to be grateful for Hanna.

---

It’s a good week.

Matteo spent most of his time with David, working on his projects for other producers at home. When he wasn’t with David, they were emailing—at least until David asked for his number.

It’s Friday now, and someone at corporate was in a good mood, so the entire company is let out early. That never happens, and that’s what everyone’s talking about as they pack: this never happens, so leave before they change their mind. appreciate it, make the most of it. act like it’s a week and not two fucking hours.

Matteo doesn’t want to go home.

Because he’s at David’s desk, learning how to animate in the loosest definition of the term learning. He’s mostly watching, marveling at the animations as well as the boy producing them. It’s just really fucking impressive work.

He does not want to go home, but the moment they get the email, the office becomes a high school classroom on the last day of school. “Awesome,” David says at the news, shutting down his computer. From watching David’s videos versus actually talking to him, Matteo’s developed a sense for when he’s being honest, and this is not one of those times. And Matteo is kind of comforted by that. “My sister will happy. We have big plans to binge Buffy tonight and this buys us four more episodes before we pass out.”

“Nice.”

David starts to say something else, but they’re interrupted by Hanna and Jonas approaching them. “Last call, Matteo,” Hanna says. “Are you sure you don’t want to come?”

“Let me remind you what you’re missing out on,” Jonas says. “Burnt marshmallows. My incredible talent as I serenade both of you with my guitar. Home-brewed coffee that is basically flavoured milk, made to order just for you, Luigi.”

“And you’re sticking me with him for the entire weekend,” Hanna says.

“I can’t,” Matteo says. “Thanks, though.”

“Next time,” Jonas says.

“Sure.”

“Maybe both of you could come next time,” Hanna says with a smile towards David.

And Matteo doesn’t know how the fuck to respond to that, how to tell David not to feel pressured, and it’s ok if he doesn’t want to—

“That sounds fun,” David says.

Matteo doesn’t say anything. Sometimes his silence works in his favour.

After Jonas and Hanna say goodbye, David says, “Why aren’t you going to the cabin?”

It’s not a question Matteo can lie to David about. He knows that Matteo’s caught up on his deadlines. He wouldn’t understand why Matteo can’t just cancel a plan with his mom. And more telling than any of that, the same way Matteo has a sense for when David’s lying—well, Matteo’s worried David’s developed the same for him.

“I didn’t want to.”

The problem is that’s a lie too, and judging by David’s expression, he knows it.

“Are you free tonight, then?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Do you want to join me and my sister? I promise we’re not going to set up cameras for a reaction video. We just chill and eat a lot of snacks.”

“I don’t want to intrude on your thing.”

“Matteo, I’m inviting you. You can’t be intruding if someone invites you.”

That feels categorically not true, but Matteo knows when David’s lying, and he’s not.

“Besides, we could use the buffer,” David says. “Pun intended.”

Matteo smirks. “Are the jokes going to be that bad all night?”

“Only one way to find out.”

It’s harder for Matteo to say no to this, because it’s last-minute. Because David already knows that he’s free. Because all he has to do is a get on a bus with David and go to his apartment. Because there’s no time to talk himself out of it.

And maybe also because it’s David.

“Ok. Let’s go.”

---

On the bus ride, Matteo gets a call from Dr. Fischer’s office. He doesn’t answer it because David’s beside him, though he’s already dreading calling them back.

He does check the voicemail, which says that his bloodwork is fine. Recommends a vitamin to take that will apparently cure his depression, because there’s no mention of a follow-up appointment. He knows he could call them back and schedule one anyway. He knows that, and maybe he’ll do it, but it can’t be a problem for tonight. He wants to end his good week with a good night. He doesn’t want to think about this shit all the time because it’s fucking exhausting—but hey, at least he knows what vitamin to take for that!

Matteo deletes the message.

---

David’s apartment is clean, but his sister apologizes for a mess that’s not there.

Some dishes aren’t where they’re supposed to be. There’s a pile of unopened mail on a chair, and another one on the coffee table. Matteo’s black socks are picking up and showing off all the dirt of an un-swept floor.  

But Matteo, he can’t spontaneously invite people over like he apparently needs people to do for him, because he’s never cleaned his bathroom. He’s been in his apartment for two years.

“It’s cool,” he says, meaning it. “It’s nice here.”

David introduces his sister as Laura, and she’s nice too. Like Hanna, almost too easy to talk to. You open yourself up too quickly to a person like that.

She tells David that she got the good snacks. “Name brand,” she says, waving a bag of popcorn in one hand and chips in the other. “We’re fancy tonight.”

Matteo suddenly misses Hans. It’s nice to live with someone who looks out for you in small, stupid ways like that, though Matteo knows Hans also looked out for him in ways that weren’t small or stupid at all. He just thought it was time to get his own place once he graduated university. Hans would’ve let him stay.

“We have low standards,” David says to Matteo.

“As long as I don’t find bottles of blood in the fridge,” Matteo says.

“Not bottles. Mason jars.”

“Trying to reduce your plastic usage?”

“It’s ignorant for you to assume vampires don’t care about the planet. They’re trying to dominate it, not destroy it.”

“My apologies, then.”

“What do you want to drink, Matteo?” Laura asks as she sets the snacks up. “We have beer, I think there’s some wine left, coffee, tea—fresh out of blood, though.”

“Anything’s fine,” Matteo says.

“Ok,” Laura says. “But what do you want?”

“Beer’s good. Thanks.”

“Beer for me too,” David says. “Thanks for asking.”

“I thought you could serve yourself since I had to serve your guest,” Laura says, pulling three beers out of the fridge. “And introduce myself to him. See, this is why you need to have friends over more often. Remember your manners.”

David doesn’t meet in her the teasing place, and Laura seems to notice the same way Matteo does. Matteo decides that he likes her. “Anyway, it’s nice that you’re here,” she says, handing Matteo a beer. “Go ahead and sit down.”

Matteo’s faced with an impossible situation.

It’s a small apartment, with a smaller living room, and an even smaller selection of seats. His options are the chair with a pile of mail on it, an exercise ball, or a loveseat that’s almost too small to justify that label. And David’s already taking his place on the loveseat.

It’s weird if he sits that close to David. It’s weirder if he moves their mail. It’s even weirder if he takes the exercise ball when there’s a clearly a more comfortable option available.

He sits beside David, and it is close. Close enough that if Matteo slouches and spreads out as he usually does, their knees will touch. He doesn’t slouch or spread out, it’s just—it’s something he thinks about.

“I should warn you that our landlord controls the heat,” David says, pulling a blanket off the ground. “And he’s stingy, so. Do you want to share this?”

Matteo is truly not cold, even if the offer makes him shiver. He says no, and David shrugs and wraps the blanket around his own body.

“Do you care that we’re in the middle of a season?” Laura asks, taking her own seat on the exercise ball.

Matteo shakes his head. “I’ve seen it all like, five times.”

“Nerd,” David says. Matteo flips him off.

“Like you can talk,” Laura says. “Matteo, I swear, watching anything with David is like having the DVD commentary turned on. And not the fun one with the actors, the boring one with the director. I once tried to drink every time he said ‘shot composition’ and nearly died.”

“Just practicing for my own,” David says. “I’ll talk for an hour about Matteo’s editing.”

“You’d hire me?” Matteo asks.

“Who else?”

Matteo smiles.

When they start the show, Matteo realizes that Laura was not being dramatic. David is talking a lot—more than Matteo’s ever heard him talk, actually. And not only about the technical elements that Laura finds boring, but about how he discovered a crush on Giles once he watched the series as an adult, how he uses Buffy’s fight scenes to motivate his workouts, how each monster-of-the-week and big bad scares him in different and detailed ways (if they don’t scare him at all, they’re deemed “total failures”).

Matteo admits to understanding the crush on Giles. He suggests a video where David trains like Buffy, which gets them into the weeds of talking about how that would work if David’s a vampire himself. It’s either a damn good cover or a depressing metaphor about how we destroy ourselves. Matteo can’t, however, relate to ever being scared while watching Buffy. The monsters are a bit too 90s and cheesy for that.

It’s not boring, but Laura’s half on her phone, and both her and David seem a bit irritated that they’re not watching the show the way the other would prefer.

“Shit,” Laura says at something on her phone once they’re a few episodes in. “Clara just texted me. We’re supposed to see a movie tonight.”

From his spot on the couch, Matteo can see that she’s only looking at her lock screen. She really is like Hanna.

“But we planned this?” David says.

Laura lies, about how she made this plan with Clara forever ago, and she completely forgot, and she can’t cancel now on her because she’s going through a break-up--.

“And Matteo’s here,” Laura says. “So I won’t be leaving you alone.”

It’s obvious. It’s so obvious, and the only thing that isn’t obvious is if David asked her to do it. Matteo can’t decide what he’s hoping for.

But within a few minutes, Laura’s gone, and they’re alone. And it’s different.

Because with David’s eyes fixed on the screen, Matteo can look at him without worrying about Laura catching him. And he’s noticing things, like the slope of his neck—which fuck, Matteo’s never considered the slope of anyone’s anything before. Matteo wants to trail his fingers down it and see how David reacts. He wants to kiss it in a way that leaves a mark, even if they’re too old for that. He wants to bury his head in it and rest.

He wants, and wants, and wants, but he won’t do any of that, so he does something else. He tugs at the blanket until David loosens it enough to share.

“Cold?” David asks.

“Mm.”

David’s commentary slows down, but it’s not awkward, for them to be quiet together. Matteo’s comfortable, and without thinking about, he slouches.

Their knees touch, and it’s—it shouldn’t be anything. It’s knees. But there it is, that heat Matteo felt the first time he shook David’s hand. He fucking radiates it.

And neither of them move.

After a while, Matteo barely registers when one episode turns into the next, until they reach one he forgot about. It’s Hush, probably the most famous episode of the series. The Gentlemen, the monster-of-the-week, are out to collect human hearts. Weapons don’t work against them, only screams. So, they conveniently steal everyone’s voices. The episode is largely silent, and Matteo’s only watched it once.

“I was wrong earlier,” Matteo says.

“I know, but about what?” David asks.

Matteo lightly punches his arm. “When I said this show didn’t scare me. This episode does.”

“The Gentlemen are fucking creepy. Did you know they’re partially based on Count Orlok? From Nosferatu, this silent film from the 20s. It’s proof that good horror doesn’t need a million special effects. The suspense that’s created from his shadow, even from the way he moves—”

“It’s not that. It’s not being able to talk. Or scream.”

“Yeah.” David’s voice goes quieter. “It’s unsettling.”

Especially when you’ve stolen your own voice.

“We can skip it,” David says in Matteo’s silence.

“No. It’s ok.”

When The Gentlemen make their first attack, Matteo feels something against his hand. David’s placed his own beside it—not holding it, barely even brushing it, but there. Matteo would be self-conscious about it if he weren’t so fucking scared.

Of course, Buffy saves the day by the end of the episode with a powerful scream of her own. Not often, but often enough to be aware of, Matteo gets worked up to the point where it’s like he’s on the verge of a temper tantrum. He wants to scream in those moments, and throw something, and punch something else, and sometimes he does all three. He’s ashamed of those moments.

Other times, a sense of calm will come over him before he acts out, a reminder that he is and will continue to be ok. His mom would call it the Holy Spirit. Lena says it’s a result of his hard work. Matteo thinks it’s a guilty conscience.

But he’s realizing now, that’s the sense of calm he always has around David.

“You don’t drain me,” Matteo says.

“What?”

“I know I’ve told you that before, but I need you to believe me now. I don’t want to get another email about why I’m wrong. I know that I’m not.”

“And people say that I’m stubborn.”

“I’m not stubborn. I’m right.”

David laughs. “Ok.”

“Ok?”

“You’re not going to let me disagree with you.”

“No.”

“Then ok.”

“Ok. Good.”

Matteo focuses his attention back on the show, satisfied.

He used his voice to help David. He wonders what else he could use it for.

Chapter Text

This is everything Matteo thinks about when he gets home from David’s.

He stayed too long. He didn’t check his phone because he didn’t want to know the time, didn’t want to countdown to when social conventions mandated this good thing end, didn’t want to say it’s late or I should go like he was expected to. But when Laura came home and David said he didn’t realize how late it was, Matteo knew he’d stayed too long.

But David didn’t seem to mind. David talked to him, and he didn’t move his knee, nor did he move his hand.

He would’ve, though, if he knew that Matteo was thinking about the slope of his neck. If he knew the way Matteo wanted. Because even if David wanted him back, Matteo’s want is poisonous. It’s complex, but not in the poetic way of some misunderstood hero in a movie. It is selfish, and it is destructive, and it is what ended Hanna and Jonas’s relationship.

Which Hanna forgave him for. That’s not Matteo’s own thought. That’s one Lena gave to him.

But maybe Jonas wouldn’t forgive him.

On the bus home from David’s, Matteo clicked through Hanna’s Instagram stories; she posted more in a day than she typically does in a week. In one, she was rolling her eyes as Jonas fucked around on his guitar in the background, captioned: anyway, here’s wonderwall.

Jonas has never been shy, but he was when they were fourteen at the cabin, when he got out his guitar and told Matteo that he’d wrote a song. Though, that declaration came with caveats: It’s probably shit. I don’t know about the bridge. It’s ok if you don’t want to listen to it, and then when Matteo assured him that he did, it’s ok if you hate it. Of course Matteo gave him shit for it, because there’s no bigger asshole than the guy with a guitar at a party, but not before telling Jonas that his song was good and he should write more.

And Matteo was so fucking thrilled that Jonas had told him first, thrilled in a way that was notably different than anything he’d felt before. He had a crush, and the cabin only encouraged it. When he and Jonas went on long bike rides to escape the adults, when they tried to roast food that is not meant to be cooked over a campfire, when they talked through the night in a way Matteo didn’t think guys were allowed to do.

Matteo wanted to go the cabin, only understanding that now that he’s not there. He is missing something special, but that’s how it should be, because he deserves to miss it. He doesn’t deserve Jonas’s friendship. He never really has.

He feels it now, the awful, sickening adrenaline in his body, because depression doesn’t drain all of his energy. It keeps some in reserve for hating himself, and it is powerful. It’s what makes him scream and throw things, have tempter tantrums even though he’s a fucking adult—

Matteo thinks of David, and he calms.

If he’d been at the cabin, he wouldn’t have had tonight with David, and what a fucking shame that would be. If he hadn’t been able to reassure David. That was a good thing he did, and Lena tells him to be aware of those. Look at the evidence of who you are against what your brain is telling you.

But sometimes the evidence works against him. Yes, Matteo is a person who sometimes does good things, but sometimes he ruins his best friend’s relationship. And it’s not only that, it would be easier if were only that. It’s his fucking parents. Matteo wanted a mom who was healthy, so he hated the one who wasn’t. He wanted a dad who was invested, so Matteo overwhelmed him with his own needs. Maybe his mom would’ve sought recovery sooner if he wasn’t so fucking judgmental about it. Maybe his dad would’ve stayed if he were someone else.

Maybe Lena is right and he should talk about his parents in therapy.

Though maybe therapy isn’t fucking working, because he still thinks like this. And it’s not like he enjoys going. He could save himself the stress.

But Dobby is there, so. He’ll keep going.

Maybe Lena had a point, when she told him that yes, therapy would continue to be helpful for him, but she couldn’t change the way his brain works. I can help you question your thinking patterns. I can remind you to look at the evidence before you determine what you believe about yourself. I can listen. I can’t do what medicine could.

She added qualifiers, that he needed to be comfortable with it, that she couldn’t prescribe or even diagnose him with anything, that it still wouldn’t be a magic cure.

But if it could help, maybe he should use his voice to call Dr. Fischer’s office back on Monday. At least he has one.

His thoughts are interrupted by a bright light from his phone. Glancing at it, Matteo sees David’s name. And he was calm, even as his thoughts tried to overtake take him, but now he’s something else. He’s smiling.

David: Did you get home ok?
Fight off any vampires?

Matteo: I wouldn’t do that to your kind
But I survived

David: I appreciate your binge-watching endurance
Laura taps out after three hours

Matteo: Thank you
After years of training
I went professional in the sport of doing nothing

David: I’m shit at that

Matteo: Hence your live commentaries

David: Is it annoying?

Matteo: I liked them

David: Then we should do this again, Mr. Florenzi

Matteo pauses. That’s not Luigi. That’s a nickname David gave him.

And an invitation.

David: Maybe at your place next time
So we don’t have to worry about Laura’s lack of commitment

And so she doesn’t have to fake another getaway

Matteo doesn’t know what to say. He’d have to buy food—or cook, maybe he could cook. He’d definitely have to clean his bathroom, but he worries he’s reached the point of no return on that. He could lie and say his landlord controls the heat, and he’ll wash a blanket they could share—

It’s the wanting. It’s getting worse. It’s getting deceptive—and even in a minor way, that’s dangerous. He can’t let it grow. He can’t act on it. He can’t subject David to who he is.

David: Thanks for what you said tonight
It means a lot from you

Matteo does not understand.

Matteo: Really?

David: Of course

There is a long, long pause before the next text, which comes in a series.

David: You’re basically the only person I like right now. You’re thoughtful, but it’s not born of pretention the way my thoughtfulness is. (You can tell I’m pretentious because I used the phrase born of pretention; I even hate myself for that one. And I just used a semi-colon in text). You’re thoughtful because you care. But you don’t talk as much as you think. You are not prone to sending midnight confessions like I am. So when you say something, I believe you.

It’s a really fucking nice thing to say, and Matteo’s never known what to do with nice things.

Matteo: You used a semi-colon in a text

David: You attached a gif to an email

When Matteo doesn’t respond right away, his phone rings. And it would be too obvious that he ignored if that’s what he chose to do, so. He answers it.

“Hey.”

“Hello, Mr. Florenzi.”

It’s quiet then, but it’s ok.

“Did my text wake you up?” David asks. His voice is gentle like this. It’s about the only thing that could help Matteo sleep.

“You know it didn’t.”

“Yeah.”

Matteo wants to ask David why he called, but he’s not sure he can know the answer. I’m not ok. I’m worried you’re not ok. I know that you want me. I want you too. It could be all of the above, but as long as he doesn’t ask, Matteo can pretend it’s none of them.

He can just relax and talk to David.

“I wish that yoga pose were real,” Matteo says.

“Detaching your brain?”

Matteo likes that he didn’t have to explain. “Yeah.”

“Maybe,” David says, letting the word dangle in a way that’s dangerous. “Maybe you could give part of your brain to me.”

“That’s more of a zombie than a vampire thing. Think of your brand.”

“What I mean is that you could tell me what you’re thinking about. Why you can’t sleep. It helps when I tell you that stuff, so.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking for.”

“Because I don’t really know you? I used the same line, Matteo.” In Matteo’s silence, David continues, “And even if I don’t know you, I want to. So.”

Everything between them ends with that. They both know what’s supposed to come next. They both know what’s supposed to be inevitable. They both stop before they get there.

So.

Fuck it. He was going to try using his voice, right?

“I think that I’m a bad person.”

David laughs, and it’s such an unexpected reaction that Matteo lets a “What the fuck?” slip. But he finds himself laughing too, and he can’t even guess at why. He is fucking delirious.

“I’m sorry,” David says. “I don’t mean to make light of it, because I know that you believe it. But fuck, Matteo. That’s the wildest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You don’t know—”

“We can’t keep having this conversation. Unreliable narrator, remember?”

“That’s you.”

“There can be more than one. This isn’t a paint-by-numbers mystery novel.”

“That’s a mixed metaphor.”

“You know what I mean.”

He does. Life is complex! And messy! Everything isn’t always black and white!

Except when it is.

“I broke up Hanna and Jonas’s relationship,” Matteo says.

“That is not what it looks like on Instagram.”

“No, in high school.”

“When everyone makes their best decisions.”

“You should hear the full story before you make me a good guy.”

“I’m not doing that. You might’ve been the bad guy, but you were what, fifteen? Sixteen? And unless there was a body swap situation, you couldn’t have been fully responsible for what happened. They’re their own people.”

“It’s not only that. I treated my mom like shit even though she was sick.”

“Sick how?”

“Depression.”

“It’s scary when you’re not familiar with it. Fuck, even when you are. I’m sure you did the best you could.”

Matteo wishes David would let him fill in the details. He lied to his best friends; he’s why the entire school turn against Hanna. He called his mom selfish when he was the selfish one. And sure, ok, he was a teenager, but he still has those traits. He still lies. He is still so fucking selfish.

He is still so much like his dad.

“I don’t have any energy,” Matteo says. “For anything. And all these people, they’re trying to help me, and I just—I’m too tired to keep doing this. The only thing more exhausting than thinking all the time is trying to stop.”

Silence on the other end. He’s scared David off.

Good.

“You should sleep, Matteo.”

That gentle voice again.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, fuck—don’t be sorry. Just rest, ok? Put a podcast on or something; that always helps me tune out. I can send you recs for ones that aren’t too interesting. Or I’ll record one of my Buffy commentaries.”

“Ok. Thanks.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow.”

He will?

“Goodnight, Mr. Florenzi,” David says.

“Goodnight.”

David sends him podcast recs within five minutes. Matteo chooses one that’s an episode-by-episode recap of Buffy, but he doesn’t need it to sleep.

His thoughts are with David now. They might even be safe there.

Matteo can rest.

Chapter Text

David does call on Saturday, but it’s different.

They mostly talk about work, Matteo editing the yoga video as they talk. They get into a long, passionate debate about whether one of David’s jokes is funny enough to keep. (It is, of course, but Matteo won’t tell him that because their disagreement gives them more to talk about). They speculate about the new Korean restaurant that just opened near their office and vow to try it together. (An actual vow, one they create together and recite dramatically as though it were their wedding day). They complain about their career action plans the need to complete by the end of the month; Matteo because he has no goals, and David because his goals don’t align with the company’s. (Matteo tells David he can’t quit without him, which doesn’t phase David the way that kind of closeness should. Of course , he says. I need you wherever I am ).

On Sunday, the call comes later, but that’s ok. Matteo cooked breakfast and lunch for himself. He went to the gym. He Facetimed Jonas and Hanna at the cabin, who seemed happy to hear from him.

Who were happy to hear from him. Matteo’s trying the thought out.

David begins by apologizing for not calling sooner, as though there’s any kind of schedule to whatever they’re doing. “Laura decided we were having a heart-to-heart,” he says.

“About?” Matteo asks.

“You know. You.”

“Oh.”

It occurs to Matteo he could use his own heart-to-heart with his own Laura—but not Lena, not someone who will frame this relationship as part of his recovery. It feels wrong, for David to be part of his treatment plan. He’s just his…fuck if Matteo knows. His David.

“That it’s nice, that I have a friend again,” David says, though he sounds as awkward using the word friend as Matteo feels hearing it. “And I should make more of them.”

“I don’t get it, though. You have friends. Leonie, and Amira—”

“I think she meant friends I’m relaxed around. Myself." 

Matteo understands that he’s privileged to know David the way he does.

Then they’re talking about something else, in the same way they can have a midnight confession on Friday and talk about work on Saturday. Matteo appreciates that David hasn’t brought that up, but not because he’s ashamed. The thoughts just felt kind of irrelevant, now that David has stripped them of their power. And now that Matteo’s slept, and ate, and done all the things that are apparently critical to taking care of himself.

Matteo has been through too much to be naïve. When he leaves his weekend-bubble with David and is reminded of all the ways he’s a fuck-up, the thoughts will come back, maybe stronger than before.

But he’s starting to think of himself as the slayer, capable of defeating every monster that comes out of his hellmouth of a brain—even if there’s an epic battle. And the slayer’s nothing without her Scooby gang, and Matteo has David, so—

He might just be ok.

---

Monday morning, Matteo’s monitor is covered in sticky notes.

Must be June 50th because I have 94 meetings today

(I don’t know if you watch Parks and Rec but you need to know that reference if we’re going to continue this friendship)

But we made a commitment to try the Korean place and I don’t break my promises

(That’s a lie I break them all the time)

At 12:07, Hanna’s going to interrupt my meeting with Leonie and say I have an urgent call with corporate

I’ll meet you at the restaurant at 12:15

(Hopefully Leonie won’t see this because she will murder me if she finds out. Seriously, if I turn up dead, it was her)

(Sorry for using all your sticky notes)

Behind him, a voice says, “Fuck. I need to do that.”

It’s Abdi, walking in with Jonas and Hanna. They both slap Matteo’s shoulder as they walk by. “For Sam,” Abdi clarifies, though no one asked. “Girls love that romantic shit.”

“It’s not romantic,” Matteo says, but even he knows that he’s mumbling the words in a way that makes them indistinguishable. “It’s just David.”

Abdi makes a show of going to supply cabinet, leaving Jonas and Hanna behind. Not totally ignorant of social conventions, Matteo asks, “How was the cabin?”

“Boring without you,” Jonas says. “Not many games work with two people.”

“And while I’m an expert at buying pasta sauce,” Hanna says. “I can’t make it like you can. You’ll have to teach me next time.”

“Sure,” Matteo says.

The conversation dies there, because all three of them know there’s a far more interesting topic to discuss. It’s Jonas who broaches the subject first.

“So,” he says, vaguely gesturing to Matteo’s monitor. “Something happen, or…?”

Hanna can’t contain her smile. Matteo wonders what David told her when he asked for help with their overly-elaborate escape plan.

“No,” Matteo says. “I mean, we hung out. And he’s been calling me. But we’re not….”

A thought interrupts Matteo’s sentence. It happens a lot, and Matteo usually lets the sentence go, too absorbed in his mind’s bullshit to voice anything that contradicts it.

But this time, the thought isn’t you don’t deserve Jonas and Hanna as friends. It’s not your problems aren’t important . It’s not be quiet.

It’s these are your best friends .

Matteo doesn’t let the sentence go, but he does revise it. “I don’t know what the fuck we are.”

He’d say more, but more is complicated. I like him, and it’s so good when we’re together, but I’ve never done this before and I’m not sure that I can. I can’t be a supportive partner when I can’t support myself. I don’t want him to feel like he’s looking after me. I don’t want to be mean to him, or withdrawn from him, but I’m those things to both of you and you’re my best friends. I don’t want to be my mom. I don’t want to be my dad. I really don't want to be myself. 

But I want him.

“We should do lunch this week,” Hanna says. “And talk about it. If you want.”

Matteo shrugs as Hanna’s phone buzzes. She rolls her eyes at it and says, “I’m being summoned by Kiki. Enjoy your lunch, Matteo. I’ve got an alarm on my phone for 12:07.”

He thanks her as she leaves, just him alone with Jonas. Like it used to be before she made both of their lives better, but still. Sometimes Matteo misses this.

“Or you and I could get beers,” Jonas says. “We could do it tonight.”

Matteo wants that. Though his first inclination was to talk to Hanna, Hanna would make him… talk. Not only about David, but about therapy, and some combination of religious and childhood trauma. Jonas has always been better at listening to his silences.

How fucking ironic though, for Matteo to ask for relationship advice from the person whose relationship he fucked up. Who still has no idea, almost a decade later.

Though, it is almost a decade later. Maybe it’s time to move on, but Matteo can’t absolve his own guilt. Jonas has to forgive him, but first he has to know what Matteo needs forgiveness for.  And Jonas might not do that. He might hate Matteo. But would it be any different, to lose Jonas to that than to his own shame?

“Yeah,” Matteo says. “But can we do tomorrow instead? I have therapy tonight.”

Jonas nods as though Matteo said he’s getting a haircut. “No problem. It’ll have to be at your place, though. Hanna’s already planning something with Mia.”

“It’s just—my apartment’s not clean. The living’s room ok, but the bathroom—"

Jonas shrugs. “Then we’ll clean it.”

“It’s really bad.”

“Did you forget that I spent a semester cleaning bathrooms on campus? Trust me, I’ve seen worse.”

Matteo wants the help, but he shouldn’t burden Jonas with the mess he’s made, literally and metaphorically—

“I’ll come over tomorrow,” Jonas says, reminding Matteo of when Hanna showed up at his place with McDonalds. “But you’re buying the beer.”

Matteo laughs, surprised by the relief he feels. It’s not exactly like Hanna. Jonas is not doing a just making sure you’re alive check. He’s just being a friend, wanting to hang out and help.

“Ok.”

---

A couple of hours into the morning, Matteo knows he can’t have lunch with David.

It’s not because he doesn’t deserve to, and it’s definitely not because he doesn’t want to. It’s just that his mind is reeling, about therapy tonight, about beers with Jonas tomorrow, about the call to Dr. Fischer’s office he still needs to make. He can’t sort out whatever’s going on with David until he sorts out some things with himself.

He’s working on it.

He’s about to send David an email when his work phone rings, the sound almost unrecognizable. Most of his coworkers either email or, to Matteo’s frustration, shout over cubicles.

Picking it up, he realizes he has no idea how to answer in a professional manner. “This is Matteo Florenzi. At Capture.”

David’s laugh, that Matteo recognizes instantly. “Have you ever answered a phone before?”

“I had to use it today since someone vandalized my monitor.”

“Sounds like a cool, plays-by-his-own-rules kind of guy. Though I did overhear Hanna lecturing him about expensive sticky notes are.”

Matteo laughs. “I thought you were in meetings all morning.”

“This is my two-minute break.”

“And you’re calling me?”

“Felt weird not to.”

Matteo knows what he means.

“Listen,” Matteo says. “I can’t do lunch today. I’m sorry.”

There’s a pause, then an, “Oh.”

Matteo hears the disappointment and he knows what it means. Someone like Leonie, they’d use it to establish power, treating the relationship like a game to win. Matteo has no interest in power; all of his interest is in David’s happiness.

“I want to,” Matteo says because David deserves to know that. “There’s just some things I need to do first. I need some time.”

“It’s ok. I get it.”

It’s a phrase that could be volatile, sarcastic, insincere. It’s none of those things coming from David.

“I’m not breaking my vow.”

“Me neither. Whenever you’re ready.”

They say goodbye, and Matteo feels like he did when he refused the invitation to the cabin: like he’s done the right thing for himself in the moment, but failed some part of recovery. He decides not to dwell on it, turning his attention to editing a David-less video.

---

Matteo uses his lunch break to call Dr. Fischer’s office.

All of the boardrooms are taken, and he’s not going to be the asshole who hogs the bathroom to make a personal call. He tries the kitchen, finding it empty as most people either eat at their desk or go out.

When the receptionist picks up, Matteo recites the script he rehearses in his head. “Hi, this is Matteo Florenzi—”

“Hi, how are—”

Matteo fumbles, being interrupted wasn’t part of the script. “I’m calling to make an appointment with Dr. Fischer.”

The receptionist asks if it’s to go over test results or for some medical procedure Matteo doesn’t catch the name of. Matteo asks him to repeat himself, but he says the same thing, no dial 3 for depression .

“Uh, neither,” Matteo says. “I’ve been seeing her for….”

He catches Amira’s eyes as she walks into the kitchen. He contemplates hanging up and blaming it on a bad connection. Saying nevermind, it’s test results —he did have bloodwork done, even if it didn’t produce any results worth discussing.

But it’s taken him this long to make the call, and fuck if he’s going back now

“I’ve been seeing her for my depression.”

No one reacts, not Amira or the receptionist. Amira leaves once she’s retrieved her food from the fridge. The receptionist books a date for Matteo’s appointment. And this task, this massive thing that’s been hanging over his head—it’s done.

He doesn’t remember the feeling of failure from earlier.

---

Lena’s sitting in Matteo’s chair.

Her last client ran late, and she’s flustered. Taking a seat on the couch, Lena looks at him and says, “We can switch.”

“No, it’s cool.”

“Are you sure? Because I want you to be comfortable.”

“Yeah. Could I get a water, though?”

“Oh my God, of course! I’ll be right back.”

She is, tall glass of water in hand. Easy. And it turns out that Dobby likes the couch; he’s stretched out long beside Matteo, belly exposed. Insomnia-inspired Googling about cat behavior told Matteo that means Dobby trusts him. He’s proud of that.

When Lena asks how he’s been doing, the answer is complicated. He tells her that he hung out with David, but only because he rejected the invitation to the cabin. That he’s hanging out with Jonas to talk about David and everything else, but he had to skip lunch with David to have the energy to do it.

“Even when I do something right,” Matteo says. “I make progress, or whatever, I fail at something else.”

“What does that feel like?” Lena asks. Sometimes, her therapist script is too predictable.

“Walking in place. Like I’m not getting better.”

“I can see how it would feel that way, but that’s not how I see it at all.” She pauses for Matteo to say something, but isn’t phased when he doesn’t. “I see it as you managing the resources you have right now. Depression is exhausting. Recovery is exhausting. When you need to rest, you should rest. When you need time, or space, you should ask for it.”

“But how do I know when I need those things?” Matteo says. “What if I’m just being lazy and not doing the work?”

“Does it really matter? Take the rest, take the time, take the space, and try again tomorrow.”

She makes it sound as simple as making a doctor’s appointment, asking for a glass of water.

“The trick,” Lena says. “Is that you need to have grace with yourself. Thinking about your actions as failures, that’s what leads to shame. Like what you’ve been carrying around but Jonas and Hanna.”

“But that was a mistake.”

“Sure, and it’s healthy to feel guilt about that. It’s a sign of a mature, empathetic person that you can recognize and learn from your mistakes, that you know to apologize for them—”

“Even ten years later?”

“Even ten years later. Shame, however, is when you dwell in that, when you can’t forgive yourself. When you think you’re a bad person. When you call yourself a failure for bailing on a plan which, by the way, everyone does. We all need rest, time, and space at inopportune times. But shame, it’s not productive, not for you or the people around you. It makes you believe that you don’t deserve to feel better, but you do.”

“What if I’m not capable of it?”

“Of course you are, Matteo. You have made incredible progress. You are not walking in place. You are getting better, even though there will still be days when you feel worse. Recovery’s a marathon, not a sprint, and you are in the race.”

Matteo mentions his appointment with Dr. Fischer and the consent form. Lena promises to coordinate it with her office. There’s still time on the clock.

“Are you going to make me talk about my parents now?” Matteo asks.

“Oh, fuck no.” Matteo smirks at her curse. “One step at a time, right? We’ll save your energy for that one.”

Matteo nods. “Dobby likes it over here. On the couch, I mean.”

“No, Matteo. He likes you.”

They talk about Dobby until the clock runs out.

---

It’s not that hard to clean his bathroom, actually.

The floor just needs to be swept and mopped. The dirt on the wall comes off with a single swipe of the cleaning solution Jonas put together. The shower requires a bleach and a scrub, but they’ll do it, and it’ll be done. Nothing’s too far gone to be fixed.

It helps, having Jonas. Matteo’s cleaning knowledge is soap, water, scrub, but Jonas knows a few more techniques, hacks he picked up from his campus job and Hanna’s Pinterest board. Plus, that thing about many hands making light work—it checks out.

He doesn’t comment on the state of Matteo’s bathroom, not even to reassure him that it’s not that bad. Of course it’s bad, but they both know it, so they just get to work and deal with it. Matteo likes that about Jonas. He still likes everything about Jonas.

They take a break to drink and eat the pizza Matteo made; he figured he owed Jonas more than beer. “This is fucking good,” Jonas says, sauce dripping onto his chin. “You should make this for David.”

Matteo smirks. “That’s the segue you’re going for?”

“I don’t fucking know, how am I supposed to bring it up? You’ve never liked someone like this. It’s uncharted territory.”

That’s not exactly true, and though the segue will be even weaker than Jonas’s, Matteo knows he needs to take it before he loses his courage.

“I have. I just didn’t tell you about it.”

“Yeah?” Jonas asks the question through a mouthful of pizza, oblivious.

“In high school. You remember when, uh, Hanna hooked up with Sam?”

Jonas laughs. “Yeah, of course. Why?”

“She told me. I told her not to tell you, then I told his girlfriend.”

“Why would you…,” Jonas starts, furrowing his eyebrows. Matteo shrugs so he doesn’t have to say it, stomach clenching when understanding flashes across Jonas’s face. “Oh.”

“I’ve felt like shit about it ever since. Seeing how happy you are together now…I’m sorry I took that from you.”

“You didn’t, though,” Jonas says, matter-of-fact as he was about Matteo’s bathroom. “It’s a shit thing to do, but we would’ve broken up anyway. I was lying to her. She cheated on me. It wasn’t exactly a healthy relationship.”

“Yeah, that’s what Hanna says.”

“She knows?”

“She found out.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought you’d hate me.”

Jonas shakes his head. “I would’ve been pissed, but—you’re my best friend. We’d figure it out.”

He wants to ask Jonas if he’s pissed now, if they need to figure it out now, if they’re still friends, but Jonas just takes another bite of pizza. He’s not yelling; he’s not storming out. He’s still sitting with Matteo.

Matteo knows he has a good friend, and he knows not to take that for granted.

“With David,” Matteo says. “It’s hard for me to trust what I want, because the last time I wanted someone, it turned me into a shit person.”

“With us?” Jonas asks, and Matteo nods. “That’s it? Fuck Matteo, we’re all shit people at fifteen.”

It reminds Matteo of when David laughed at his declaration that he’s a bad person. That’s it? is not cruel or even dismissive. It’s just surprised, a reminder that Matteo’s brain distorts the truth of who he really is.

“But that’s what it’s like,” Matteo says. “With the depression." 

Jonas is still eating pizza.

“I’m getting these constant messages from my brain,” Matteo continues. “That I’m not good enough. It’s fucking exhausting, but then I can’t even sleep, because I feel like I don’t deserve that. Or that I don’t deserve to hang out with you, or go outside, or be with David.”

“That’s bullshit,” Jonas says. “You know that, right?”

“On good days, but I still have to get through every other day.”

“But you’re still going to therapy and stuff?”

“Yeah. And I made a doctor’s appointment to talk about medication.”

Jonas doesn’t celebrate it the way Lena did or Hanna would, and Matteo’s grateful for that. He needs people like that to, to put his progress in perspective, but there’s something shameful about getting a gold star for doing what comes easily to others.

He remembers Lena’s conversation with him about shame, and decides that while he can still appreciate Jonas’s approach, he can dismiss that thought as an unproductive and therefore unhealthy one. Give him a fucking gold star.

“Does David know?” Jonas asks.

“Some things. He’s good to talk to.”

“And he likes you.”

“I think so.”

That gets a reaction out of Jonas, an exaggerated eye roll. “Come on. Everyone knows that he does.”

Matteo shrugs, but he knows that Jonas is right.

“Don’t overthink it,” Jonas says. “As long as you like each other and he’s good for you, just hang out with him and see where it goes. You deserve that.”

Maybe he does. 

Chapter Text

The yoga video flopped.

Not in any of the ways that matter. No, it’s low engagement; that’s what corporate says, but that’s bullshit. Sure, the comment count is low, but it is full. Instead of a hundred comments claiming first!!!, calling out YouTube’s flawed statistics where the likes are higher than the views, and quoting the video to later add omg thanks for the likes! i’m a small youtuber, please support my channel!, there’s substance.

Substance, in a YouTube comments section. By Matteo’s standards, that’s a fucking miracle, but he doesn’t believe in those. It’s David’s work that’s inspired this—and maybe some of Matteo’s too.

People are thanking David for his honesty, acknowledging how frustrating it is to watch 30-day challenges that show one moment of struggle then present themselves as cure-alls. They’re complimenting his animation, the style and humour of it. They’re saying things like I wish Capture would do more stuff like this, with replies like Maybe David needs to leave Capture to do more stuff like this.

The audience knows it, Matteo knows it, and David’s currently in a meeting with people Matteo’s ever only known as email addresses discussing how they know it too.

They’ve already been reprimanded, reminded that as experienced producers and editors, it is your responsibility to ensure every video reflects Capture’s style and standards. Texting in case IT decides to randomly monitor their emails after this incident, Matteo and David have gone back-and-forth on what Capture’s styles and standards are. Uninspired, safe, occasionally plagiarism.

Matteo had no strikes against him, and less responsibility as an editor, so that was as much as anyone cared about him. David has missed deadlines. He has accusations of time theft and wasting resources, which is hilarious given how much time everyone spends using the company’s cameras to film Instagram stories in the name of building their brand, not to mention all the overtime David clocks. Most damning, he left his career action plan is a giant question mark.

They won’t fire him. They can’t. His fans will find out, and they’ll shame Capture for it.

What they can do is have a conversation. David corrects Matteo every time he refers to it as a meeting. “No”, he says, with an eye-roll Matteo now tries to provoke. “It’s a conversation about ‘where we go from here,’ like we’ve been hanging out for weeks and are deciding if we’ll go steady.”

David’s used different examples, like we’ve found life on mars and need to talk about where we go from here, but that’s the one Matteo remembers.

David’s given Matteo the space he asked for. And it was space that Matteo needed, but he missed David faster than he’s ever realized someone was missing. So David calls him every day, even if they spend most of the workday together. They tried the Korean place and a few others together. They’ve even gone to the gym together.

They are very, very good friends.

But Matteo’s had very, very good friends before who he barely talks to now, like Hans. He knows it’s his own fault, but he doesn’t know how to sustain friendships without built-in proximity. He doesn’t even know if he’d still be friends with Jonas and Hanna if they hadn’t ended up at the same company.

If David leaves Capture, they’ll need to be something to continue being something. Matteo’s had space, but he still needs time, and it’s running out.

It’s like a countdown reaching zero when Matteo’s phone flashes with a text from David. Conversation over. Can you meet me in the boardroom?

Matteo gets up immediately, carrying a chocolate bar that Hanna tipped him off was David’s favourite snack from the vending machines. David smiles when he sees it—or maybe when he sees him.

“I need this,” David says as Matteo chucks the bar at David, closing the door behind him. He also got Hanna to book this room off for a full hour after David’s conversation was scheduled to end so they could have some privacy.

Glancing at the clock, Matteo realizes that may have been overkill. “That didn’t take long,” he says.

David shakes his head. “They told me what I already know. I can stay at Capture as long as I make the videos they want me to make. And I can’t work with you anymore.”

“I am the rebel of content creation.”

“I can’t blame them,” David says, dismissing Matteo’s invitation to tease. “It’s their company. They get to choose what videos they put out. I just thought I could do more.”

“You can.”

“But not here.”

Matteo shrugs because he’s too selfish to agree.

“I don’t know what to do,” David says. “Because I don’t want to leave for another company like this. Everywhere makes you a sign a contract that says you can’t produce your own stuff, because apparently even art has been capitalized enough to need a non-compete clause.”

“You sound like Jonas.”

“Yeah, well. He has a point.” David runs a hand through his hair, then lets it fall to the table with a slap. Matteo wants to hold it to stop it from hurting itself. “Fuck, I don’t know. I don’t want to make other people’s ideas for my entire career. But I don’t really want to be a starving artist, either. I need a job, and this is a good one. And I don’t want to leave some of the people here.”

That’s a thing they both know, that Matteo won’t actually go with David as his editor. Capture is a paycheck, his social life, and access to Lena all in one. It’s stability, and Matteo can’t afford to give that up.

But it doesn’t have to be—they don’t have to leave each other.

Ignoring his own feelings, Matteo takes his time to process everything David said. I don’t want to make other people’s ideas; I don’t want to be a starving artist; I don’t want to leave people.

“What do you want?”

David’s surprised by the question, but he has an answer. “I want to make a movie.”

“Then you should make a movie.”

David stares at his own hand on the table, turning it over like he’s shaking a magic eight ball. Let me hold it, Matteo thinks. Stop hurting, stop worrying, and let me hold you.

He has to offer first, Matteo understands that. And if he can’t do that yet, he’ll offer the best he can.

“You’re good enough,” Matteo says. “There’s a reason your videos do well.”

“I thought it was my good looks.”

It seems to exhaust him, to make a joke. Maybe to flirt. Matteo has to at least meet him there.

“It doesn’t hurt. But you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, but I still need money,” David says with a sigh. “I’ve saved, I’ve saved for this, but it’s not going to last.”

“Then get a job that has nothing to do with filmmaking,” Matteo says. “You could be, I don’t know, a personal trainer or something. Or you could sign up for a temp agency. Sell newspapers. Become the town crier.”

He’s got David laughing now; that’s good.

“I’m really interested to hear your full list of viable careers.”

“I’m just saying that you have options. You can do whatever you want.”

David smiles, surprisingly shy for both who he is and what their relationship’s become. “There might be more. That I want.”

Either Matteo misread the shyness or David got over it, because David’s gaze is steady on him now. His message may be implicit, but his look doesn’t leave room for subtleties or misinterpretation. There’s no time for that anymore.

And Matteo could it now. He wouldn’t have to ask David on a date or confess feelings he still can’t name. He could just say I want more too.

Because he’s not a bad person, just a person working on being better. Because he’s not a burden, just a person who needs his friends. Because he’s not his exhaustion, he’s not his self-hatred, he’s not his depression. He’s just Matteo, and David likes him.

But. There is always a fucking but where there should be a so.

When his dad left, not for the first time, he thought Matteo was old and objective enough to be a confidante. Don’t ever get into a relationship like this, Matteo. It’s not worth it.

He’s old enough to know that his dad’s an asshole who shouldn’t have used him like that, but it doesn’t make what he said untrue. And the thing is, Matteo can see himself playing both roles, the depressed partner and the selfish one. It’s in his fucking DNA.

He’s working on it, ok. Therapy and medication, checking his own behaviour; he’ll be a better version of himself even if he’s never better. But David shouldn’t have to work that hard, and if they become exhausted by each other—

Matteo can’t get hurt like that. It’s like an autoimmune-compromised person who gets the flu. His recovery is too much of a fight to take on anything else.

Matteo’s silence is heavy enough to sink David’s gaze to the ground.

“Anyway,” David says, mostly to himself. “I need to talk to Laura. And scan job postings, I guess. Thanks for this.”

Matteo nods, voice somewhere in his throat.

Standing up to leave, David pauses at the door. “I know you’ve got stuff,” he says, voice gentler than Matteo deserves. “You know I have it too. But you can’t—what do you want, Matteo?”

When Matteo doesn’t answer, David leaves.

In Buffy, The Gentleman stole people’s voices to steal their hearts. Matteo now understands why it worked.

---

“So, Matteo. Is there anything else you wanted to talk about?”

Matteo’s always known how to get through therapy. David’s leaving, but it’s ok; we’ll still be friends. Yes, I’m still seeing Dr. Fischer, and she is going to refer me to a psychiatrist. Things are good with Hanna and Jonas. I’m sleeping. I’m eating. I am fine. I am so much better than I was. You’ve never had a better patient than me!

But really, when the fuck did Matteo become an overachiever?

He knows this is Lena’s ending line. They have eight minutes left, maybe less. It’s not enough time, which has become a running theme in his life. Not enough time in therapy. Not enough time with David. Not enough time to be better.

But he knows by now there’s no finish line, that the countdown he’s set for himself is a false one. He’ll see Lena again next week. David will still be a bus ride away. He’ll keep getting better if he keeps working at it.

And once again, he has to start somewhere.

“I’m nervous about David leaving,” he says.

Matteo catches Lena’s surprise, but she quickly hides it behind a professional poker face. “Why’s that?”

“Because I think—I don’t know if we can be friends.”

Like a persistent toddler, she questions everything. “Why’s that?”

So Matteo explains their last conversation, what David’s invited between them, what Matteo knows he’s encouraged to. What should be their next step, what would be inevitable if Matteo weren’t—

“I want him,” he says. “But I’m scared.”

Lena nods. “That’s understandable for anyone, but especially given the relationship your parents modelled for you.”

Matteo feels like he walked into a trap. “So, we’re here? We’ve reached the tragic backstory point of therapy?”

“That’s not how I see it. I’m more interested in where your story goes from here, but to do that, we should discuss how you’ve seen your story.”

Matteo’s built a career out of examining fragments of people’s stories, constructing them into a narrative. But for himself, he only sees the pieces. Asshole dad. Broken friendships. Depression, but that piece isn’t even whole. It’s failure, and apathy, and all of the feelings that make Matteo hate himself.

He tries to explain that to Lena, but it comes out as broken as his story feels. He’s still working on his voice.

Lena understands it anyway.

“You know, those aren’t the only pieces you’re working with,” she says. “You also have reconciliation with your mom and friends. You have hard work at your own recovery. You have strength, and humour, and this beautiful kind of love. Imagine the picture you can create with that, because it sounds like it’s the one David sees. Imagine the story you can tell.”

Imagine how he could piece his own life together.

---

The morning after therapy, Matteo gets three emails.

The first is from corporate, sent from an email address you conveniently can’t reply to. It announces David’s resignation with a generic thank you for the work he’s put in, a message from David that was ghostwritten by someone in communications, and a friendly reminder that he’s not to access the building without a visitor pass after his end date.

The second is from Hanna, asking if people could chip in money for a card and a cake. Matteo always forgets to contribute to these things, but he’ll remember for David. He’ll buy the damn cake himself, and maybe an extra for Hanna since she always gets stuck with this shit.

The third is from Leonie, inviting people to a bar on David’s last day. Matteo knows he’d only be on the list at David’s request, and that’s a relief.

Matteo composes one of his own.

Hey,

Leaving makes you popular. It’s kind of fucked up that we didn’t celebrate you while you were here. This makes it sound like you’re dying, but funerals have the same concept. There’s a movie idea in here somewhere. You should make it.  

Can you fit in one more thing? Please see the attached evite.

On the vampire-themed evite, he writes: My place. I’ll cook. We can watch Buffy or do whatever the fuck you want. And talk.

The response is quick.

Please see the attached gif.

It’s Buffy nodding.

Chapter Text

Matteo’s apartment looks like he doesn’t live alone.

Dishes that he typically washes on a need-to-use basis are put away into spots they don’t have. The loose garbage that usually litters his counters and floors—bread tags, empty bottles, paper towels—has been sorted and brought to his apartment’s bins. There are more than two forks in his drawer because he bought more for tonight.

It smells different too. Instead of a mix of old garbage, must, and desperate, artificial air fresheners, there’s garlic. Basil, oregano, and all the other spices and herbs Matteo carefully added to his pasta.

Then, the sound. His food simmering, his phone playing music from a Bluetooth speaker he usually rejects for his headphones. He’s sharing the music tonight.

His heartbeat too. That’s making a lot of fucking noise.

David is late, and Matteo remembers that he ghosted his ex. That next week will be his last at Capture, so he has no incentive to maintain relationships. That Matteo was distant with him, that David has every right to change his mind given how much Matteo has changed is—

His intercom buzzes, another unusual sound. On the other end, David just says, “It’s me,” because of course it could only be him.

It feels like a long time before David reaches Matteo’s apartment, and an even longer time that he stays in the hallway, rocking back-and-forth on his feet.

“Hey,” Matteo tries.

“Hey.”

Matteo follows-up his stunning greeting with an awkward come-in gesture, wondering if it’s obvious that he’s not used to company, wondering if David’s not used to being company. But once he’s stepped out of the hallway and into the apartment, David seems to relax, the start of the best smile on the corner of his lips.

“Don’t you know,” he says, eyebrows raising as his smile settles. “That you’re not supposed to invite a vampire into your home?”

Matteo smirks and slowly gestures to a bowl of homemade garlic bread. “Don’t you know,” he says, mimicking David’s voice before reverting back to his own. “That I’ll always outsmart you?”

“Well played, slayer.”

“Or maybe you’re not as dangerous as you think you are.”

David shrugs, stepping further into Matteo’s space. As David looks around, Matteo’s ashamed of how little there is to see. Though his apartment is currently unrecognizable to himself, it’s still fucking empty—no photos, no plants, no signs of life.

But he’s here, and David’s here, breathing as strong and fast as their hearts are beat. So, fuck that. His apartment’s been solitary confinement, a sickbed, evidence of how he was worse than he thought he was. But it’s also been rehab, a place of rest, and evidence that he can get better. That he is getting better.

It’s a sign of fucking life.

They haven’t talked much at work, both knowing whatever they need to say needs to be said tonight. As Matteo starts to dish out the food, he asks, “How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know,” David starts, a throwaway phrase, but it stings Matteo in a specific way. He should know, he would know if he weren’t caught up on his own bullshit, if he didn’t need time and space to have a normal fucking relationship—

And then there’s a voice in his head, maybe Lena’s, maybe David’s, maybe his own, saying he doesn’t need to follow that thought through. So, he doesn’t.

“Job searching is hell,” David continues. “At least I’m doing most of it on Capture’s time. One last act of rebellion.”

“Anything good?”

“Well, there’s a new startup in town. I don’t know what they do, but I do know that they have foosball tables, catered lunches on Tuesday and Thursday, and a need for ‘Inspiration Officers.’”

“The fuck is that?”

“Probably the person who orders the foosball tables.”

Matteo laughs, and they relax as much as they can.

They start with dinner, Matteo feeling something new at David’s smile when he tries his food. It’s not exactly pride, just…happiness, that he gave David something good. And true to Matteo’s suspicions, the garlic doesn’t bother David at all.

When they turn on Buffy, Matteo can’t focus on the show. The familiar beats of the story, Buffy and the Scooby gang slay the monster-of-the-week!, aren’t their usual comfort in contrast with the complexity of Matteo’s own life. They’re just not stories he’s invested in right now, not when his own finally has the potential for a happy ending.

David’s quiet, no commentary. It occurs to Matteo that his mind might be reeling in the same way Matteo’s is.

They need to talk, which isn’t a revelation. It’s the whole fucking point of tonight, the premise of this episode. And since David’s offered more of his thoughts to Matteo than Matteo has to him, Matteo knows he has to start the conversation.

He also knows that it won’t happen on the couch.

Matteo remembers a conversation with Lena, after a virus left him quarantined in bed for what became one of his worst weekends. “It really, really sucks when you’re sick,” she said, and as always, Matteo appreciated her candor. “Because when you’re stuck in bed like that, depression goes, ‘Aha! I’ve got you now.’”

She tented her fingers together and used a witch’s voice, which was mortifying at the time, but ultimately a helpful illustration. Depression is a fucking monster, but a cartoonish one. So over-the-top and melodramatic that it can’t be taken seriously as a threat. As it gloated about Matteo’s capture, he could just get the fuck up and walk away.

It is so different to be on his couch with David than to be there alone, signs of life and all that, but still. Matteo always gets courage from getting the fuck up. And isn’t it like, physics? A body in motion stays in motion?

They need to start moving.

“Do you want to take a walk?”

---

The night has a bite to it.

Colder than it should be, with gusts of winds that prickle that skin, that say nice try, but you’re not going to get away with not feeling anything. Jonas would call the night crisp in a song. Hanna would take his hands from his guitar to warm her own—

David’s arm brushes against Matteo’s, and it would be an accident if David apologized, if they weren’t already walking so close together. Hanna and Jonas don’t have to be Matteo’s only reference for a relationship.

“I try to walk every day,” Matteo says for somewhere to start, even though it’s kind of lie. It’s more of a thought that runs through the back of his mind, you should take a walk today, than any intention or effort. “I guess it’s good for, you know. Brain shit.”

“The next best thing to,” David says, tilting his head to the side. He adds a crack sound effect for good measure. “Detaching it clean off?”

“I don’t know if that’s what I want anymore.”

“No?”

“My brain’s shit, but. Maybe there’s some good stuff in there too.”

“I think so.”

Matteo smiles, more confident to continue than he was when he started speaking. “This past year’s kind of been hell for me. Or I guess, it’s been longer than that. Things have been fucked for a while. I didn’t realize how bad it was until someone pulled me out of it.”

Matteo thinks of Hanna, and realizes he’s been too ashamed of what she saw in him to ever thank her for noticing.

“How bad was it?” David asks.

“You remember when I wasn’t at work for two weeks?”

“…Not really?”

“Oh.”

Like he’s offended Matteo, David quickly adds, “But we didn’t really know each other then.”

But it’s not that. Matteo had just—he assumed everyone knew about him after his absence. Not that it’s that unusual, for someone to be off for two weeks on a vacation, with a bad infection, or for unspecified reasons like Matteo.

Even if they guessed why he was off, maybe it wasn’t that big of deal. Maybe it’s not that big of a deal to tell David now.

“I barely left my apartment then,” Matteo says. “Or talked to anyone. And that’s not the only time, it’s on-and-off for me, this—I don’t have an official diagnosis or anything, but my therapist thinks it’s depression. I think it’s depression. My mom has it too.”

“How are you now?” David asks, but not the way he’s heard it from others, like he’s failed if he doesn’t say that he’s cured. He just asks it like he cares.

(And maybe that’s never what other people meant. It’s just what he heard).

“Good,” Matteo says. “It’s always good with you.”

“Same.”

“But I don’t know how I’ll be tomorrow. And that’s why this is, I don’t know. Complicated.”

“I don’t know how I’ll be tomorrow either,” David says. “I might get scared. I might want to run.”

Matteo realizes that in David’s vision of tomorrow, they’re together.

“But from my own time in therapy,” David says. “I think that’s what a relationship is. Facing the tomorrows together.”

“I don’t know if you want mine.”

“I want you, Matteo. That means today, tomorrow, and every yesterday you’ll trust with me.”

Matteo smirks. “You rehearse that line?”

“You think I haven’t been practicing romantic speeches since we started working together?”

“Shit. Really?”

“Yeah. I just hoped you’d be open to hearing them.”

Matteo is so glad that he finally is, because it’s fucking nice to hear.

They stop on the sidewalk, annoyed pedestrians swerving around them, and Matteo thinks of physics again. A body in motion stays in motion, unless it’s stopped by a greater force.

Love, if that’s what this is, is pretty fucking impressive.

Matteo takes both of David’s hands in his own, like he’s wanted to for so fucking long, and fuck it, he’s going to say it now—

David cuts him off with a, “Fuck.”

“What?”

“Your hands. It’s just like your first day, when we met—”

“And shook hands.”

“You felt that too?”

“I’ve felt all of it,” Matteo says. “You asked me what I wanted the other day, and it’s you. It’s always been you.”

He releases David’s hand to touch his cheek instead, brushing the corner of his lips with his thumb. David nods, permission, and whispers Matteo’s name in a way that’s gentle and desperate, protective and wanting.

Matteo leans in, and holy shit. He had no idea.

He thought movies romanticized kisses, songs overhyped them, and books made them more significant than they are. But nothing, nothing he’s watched, heard, or read has come close to how this feels.

Then again, no director, composer, or writer has ever kissed David, and that’s all Matteo can feel. The honesty in how he kisses Matteo the way he wants to kiss, slow and gentle until it’s everything but those things. The playfulness in how he uses his teeth, messes up Matteo’s hair. The love in how he checks in, a whisper of this ok?

Matteo answers by kissing him back, kissing him all the way to his apartment, kissing him on his couch. Kissing David the way he wants to, trailing his fingers down the fucking slope of his neck and savouring his reaction, leaving a mark with his teeth. And when they’ve tired into a good kind of exhaustion, burying his head into it and resting.

Asking, “Please stay over.” Please don’t run, and David doesn’t. He ends up in Matteo’s bed instead.

His bed, where Matteo’s had the worst moments of his life. Where he’s convinced himself that he’d never have this. That he didn’t deserve this.

But all night, David’s been whispering praises and promises to him. I want you. You are so good, Matteo. I’m staying tonight, and I’ll be here tomorrow.

Matteo doesn’t know how he’ll be tomorrow, but he’s looking forward to it.  

Chapter Text

It doesn’t change everything.

If Matteo trusted books, he’d expect an easy, deep sleep—peaceful now that he’s at peace with himself or some bullshit like that. Finding respite in David’s arms, he could relax and rest, because romantic feelings must also be alliterative ones.

But books undersold kissing, so. He’s not going to worry about what his experience should be. He’s going to focus on what it is.

It’s David reaching to pull Matteo back whenever he slides out of his arms. It’s both of them struggling to sleep, but both making an effort they wouldn’t on their own. It’s Matteo kissing whatever part of David is closest to him—fingers, shoulder, forehead—grateful he has a way to communicate other than his voice.

But he uses that too, as does David. This is good and I really fucking like you and go to sleep; I’m trying, asshole.

And then it’s morning, maybe four hours of sleep for Matteo. More for David, whose chest is rising and falling beside him. Matteo will concede the books are right about this one: he looks peaceful and it is fucking cute.

Four hours is ok. Not great, but Matteo’s not going to worry. They’ll try again tomorrow night, and the idea of having a tomorrow night with David sends a thrill through him he didn’t know he was allowed to feel.

As long as they have tomorrows, they’ll have a night where they both sleep a respectable eight hours in each other’s arms. They’ll have a night where they don’t sleep at all because they’re too fucking fascinated by each other to stop talking. They’ll have sex, as playful and caring and fun as their relationship is.

Another thrill, impressive considering Matteo isn’t even caffeinated yet.

Though Matteo could stay here for hours and do nothing but kiss more parts of David, he knows that he needs to get up. Make breakfast, shower, maintain a healthy routine. His bed isn’t the trap it once was, but it’s not where his freedom is either.

So, that’s what he does. He makes twice the amount of coffee he usually does, cracks twice the amount of eggs. He makes omelets instead of a lazy scramble, with spinach and feta like he would on a good day.

It is a good day, but there’s still something about those that make him nervous.

It startles him a little, to hear footsteps coming from his bedroom. Slow and tentative, things Matteo is tired of being. By the time David’s come out of the bedroom, Matteo’s crossed the kitchen to stand with him.

David tilts his head, his smile brighter than Matteo knew it could be. It is wild to think he’s inspired that, and there it is, another thrill.

“Hi,” David says.

“Hi.”

And then they’re both laughing, because this is ridiculous. To spend the night with another person, kissing them and saying the kinds of things you say in the dark, to be nervous the next morning? It’s pointless. They know each other know, and they know they like each other now, so—

Matteo kisses him. Easy.

“Happy tomorrow,” David says.

“Happy tomorrow.”

“You made breakfast.”

“Don’t get used to it. I can’t be the breadwinner, working long days at the office, only to slave over the stove morning and night—”

“It’s eggs.”

“Omelets. With cheese. It requires careful technique. An artful eye. All skills I have as Capture’s best editor.”

“Not sure I ever said ‘best.’”

“Well, they’re losing the best by losing you.”

Matteo loves David’s smile, loves that he has the power to make it appear—though he hates that means he also has the power to do the opposite. It would be a thing to be nervous about, if he was letting himself be nervous today.

Like the silence that’s stretching between them now, he doesn’t need to be nervous about that. They’re good at being quiet together.

David’s the one to break it. “Can we just say fuck it today?”

“What?”

“I should be looking for jobs. I should be working on a script, or I don’t know, something—but all I want to do is get back in that bed with you and kiss you all the ways you kissed me.”

Matteo swallows hard.

“Just take a break from everything,” David continues. “Because we’ve waited so fucking long for this, so let’s just—live in it before we live in the real world again.”

“I could do that.”

They bring breakfast to bed, eating quickly to free their lips for other activities. David fulfills his promise, so Matteo kisses him in even more ways than before, creating a game between them.

As they catch their breath, Matteo’s mind wanders to the dirty dishes on his nightstand. He’s made an effort to keep his apartment clean ever since Jonas came over, and it nags at him, the idea that letting this go will snowball into letting everything go, will make his apartment a safety hazard again—

He starts to get up, but David’s arm sneaks around his waist, pulling him back down.

“No,” David says, playful. “You’re not going anywhere.”

And Matteo remembers that’s true, that all the work he’s done won’t be erased by a couple of dirty dishes. That he is still Matteo, who makes an effort, who tries to do what’s right, who might even be able to love someone who loves him back.

So, fuck it. He’s taking a break from his brain. He’s going to let himself have a fucking good day.

“If you insist.” 

---

Matteo notices it at David’s goodbye party.

Hanna bought a discount, reject Happy Birthday cake, where the icing’s so smudged it’s barely legible. “Just pretend that it says ‘fuck you, traitor,’” Hanna says with a smile.

But Matteo knows she got it because no one, including himself, gave her money for a decent cake. And he watches everyone stand around, stupid, waiting for a knife until she grabs one from the kitchen. And he notices her expression when David reads his card and Leonie says, loudly, “Sorry, but I never got a chance to sign it.”

They’re small offences, sure, but they’re amplified given how much Hanna does for everyone else.

So, Matteo coordinates with Jonas. He gets a date that Jonas will be out on a shoot and Hanna’s McDonald’s order—make sure there’s extra McChicken sauce.

When he shows up at her apartment, grease-soaked bag in hand, she hugs him like she needed someone to hug. And Matteo hates himself for not doing this sooner, until Lena’s voice cuts in: will that feeling serve you or Hanna in this moment?

No. He can regret not doing this sooner, but he refuses to hate himself for it. They’re here now.

“What’s the occasion?” Hanna asks, opening one of the sauce packets to dip her fries in.

“I just realized I’ve never thanked you,” Matteo says. “For, you know. Everything.”

“That’s sweet, but you don’t need to thank me.”

Matteo shrugs. “Ok, but let me do it anyway.”

Hanna looks like she wants to say something else, but stops herself and nods.

“If you didn’t help me,” Matteo says. “I wouldn’t be with David right now. I wouldn’t be in therapy. I wouldn’t—I don’t know if I’d be anything at all, really.”

“Of course you’d be.”

“Maybe, but it wouldn’t be anything I liked. So, thank you. Seriously.”

“I’m kind of relieved,” Hanna says, swirling the straw in her milkshake around. “Maybe I was overreacting, but it felt like you were avoiding me.”

“Yeah, shit. I don’t know, I guess I was embarrassed? I thought you only wanted to hang out with me to like, fix me or something.”

“Oh, Matteo. I’m sorry that I made you feel that way.”

Matteo shakes his head. “It’s not you. Depression makes everything feel that way.”

“How are you doing now?” Hanna asks, and the question doesn’t feel like an accusation of you should be doing better now. It’s just a question.

“Really good,” Matteo says. “And I know it won’t always feel like this, but. I know how to ask for help now.”

“That’s awesome.” With a laugh that doesn’t sound like her laugh, she adds, “I don’t always know how to do that.”

“Well,” Matteo says. “I can always come over with McDonald’s.”

“I’d like that.”

They make plans. They’re going to take some lunch breaks together now that David’s gone—and in Hanna’s words, she sees too much of Jonas already. Matteo and David will join her and Jonas on their next cabin trip. Matteo’s going to help her look for other jobs, because she feels like it might be time to move on too.

And when they need to, they’ll meet at McDonald’s.

---

It’s Lena’s fault.

Matteo only sees her once a month now. It’s been about six months since he and David got together, and he’s doing well. The good days are more frequent and the bad days are easier to overcome. He’s still working with Dr. Fischer to figure out medication. He knows that he can ask Jonas for practical help, that he can meet at Hanna at McDonald’s, that he can say his worst thoughts to David and still be loved. He’s not alone, and that’s even more true now that a kitten’s clinging to his shirt, communicating in her own way: you are taking me home.

It’s Lena’s fault, because at their last session, Dobby slept in Matteo’s lap. And Lena gave him the same smile she uses when she talks about his friends, his plans, David, a question Matteo knows well: have you ever thought about this for yourself?

“Matteo,” she said. “Have you ever considered getting a cat?”

His answer was no, which was true. Caring for something else when he couldn’t care for himself, the thought didn’t even cross his mind. But he was doing better for himself, for his friends, for David….

“I can’t think of anyone better to do it,” Lena said. And Matteo believed her.

So now he’s at the animal shelter with David, falling in love with all kinds of things at once. “What will you name her?” David asks, even though Matteo hasn’t confirmed this is the one yet. David just knows him in all these little, important ways.

David pets her head and she purrs, and Matteo smiles. He doesn’t live with David yet, both of them preferring to take things slow; it’s what works for them, even if it makes their friends roll their eyes as they spend most nights at Matteo’s apartment anyway. Still, it’s crucial David and this cat love each other the way he plans to love them both.

“Buffy.”

“Oh, so she’s going to slay me.”

“But adorably.”

“Ok, then it’s fine.”

Matteo doesn’t know how this moment would fit into a video.

David has to leave before the adoption papers are signed because he has a shift at the gym, where he works as a customer experience advocate; basically, he gives out towels. Matteo has an appointment later with Dr. Fischer because the last medication he tried gave him some truly unfortunate side effects. And tomorrow, he and David will go see his mom, who is doing worse, something Matteo is trying not to feel guilty about as he’s doing better.

But he gets to kiss David goodbye, and in a few days, he’ll able to take Buffy home. David has a job that leaves him with the energy he needs to work on what he actually wants to do. Matteo has doctors advocating for him. And his mom asked for him and David to come over, so she’s trying, and Matteo knows how important that it is.

It is not a clean or easy narrative, nor is it good or bad. It’s definitely not the 10-minutes-of-inspiration Capture churns out.

But it’s Matteo’s story, and he’s grateful to be living it.