Archive of Our Own

"What are you doing? It’s me!" Matt said, smiling.

Owen cowered against the door, staring at Matt. His eyes darted between Matt’s grinning, slightly confused face and the gun he had clutched in his hand. Owen opened his mouth, but couldn’t seem to find the words. He'd heard four gunshots already. He wasn’t sure how many people were already dead.

Matt stepped closer and Owen flinched.

"What? I’m not going to hurt you! It’s just me, man!" Matt said, still smiling as he gestured wildly with the loaded gun still in his hand. "Join me! I brought you a shirt and everything! There’s still time to get the rest of them."

"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Owen said, finally. His mouth tasted like bile. Matt was moving in closer to him.

"Owen, I told you! It’s for The Dirties 2! It’s for our movie! We’re going to actually kill all the bad guys!" Matt said, like he was trying to explain something obvious. He had Owen fully backed into a corner now, standing about a foot away from him.

"I didn’t think you would… I didn’t know…" Owen sputtered. "Are you filming this right now?"

"I’ve got cameras in the hall, and I’ve got Jared." Matt beamed. He gestured to Jared, standing with a camera pointed at the two of them. Owen felt sick to his stomach. Matt turned back to him, and his face softened. "I’m doing this for you, Owen."

There was a hint of something genuine and vulnerable in his voice.

"No. No. I don’t want this." Owen said.

Matt looked hurt.

"Owen, come on! Are you still mad at me?" Matt said.

"Matt, stop. Please stop."

"I already got Josh and Jackman! I did it for you. I’ve killed for you! Would Chrissy do that?" Matt pleaded back. He was still smiling. Was he seriously bringing up Chrissy right now? Was he planning on hurting her?

Owen's stomach turned suddenly and he retched and doubled over. Matt backed away quickly to give Owen space to puke onto the floor.

"Gross!" Matt exclaimed.

Owen started crying, more from the pain of vomiting than from horror. He didn't feel real anymore, like he was watching his body from the outside. It was all too much.

Matt moved in closer, carefully avoiding the vomit to reach over and put a hand on Owen’s shoulder. Owen flinched, but Matt didn't move away. He stayed there, hand on Owen's shoulder, gently rubbing it with his thumb for a moment. It felt surreal. All Owen could think was that it couldn’t be really happening. This had to be some kind of horrible joke.

"I'm gonna dip before the cops get here." Jared broke the silence. Matt turned to look at Jared and ran a hand frantically through his own hair, his other hand still firmly planted on Owen’s shoulder.

"No- We still have to get the others"

"No, man, I'm going. I've gotta finish the movie, remember?"

"Shit, Jared, c'mon-"

Jared turned to leave and Matt followed after him. Before exiting the room, he turned back to Owen for a moment.

"Wait here," Matt said, "I'll be back for you."

And then he was gone.

A few minutes later, the cops arrived.

A decade later, Matt got out on parole. Owen knew it was coming. He'd been anticipating it for some time. A friend had filled him in on the details. Matt was out. He was living alone (not that far from where Owen lived). Owen wondered, vaguely, how Matt’s family was coping. They were hit hard when the shooting happened. Not just the trauma of the shooting itself, but the blame and harassment in the period that immediately followed.

Owen considered reaching out to Matt. He felt guilty even thinking about it. Owen knew they shouldn’t see each other. Owen had been complicit, on some level, in Matt’s crimes. Matt had some kind of fixation on him. It all came out in the trial, how Matt had killed those people, in part, to win Owen's love. And Owen had known, on some level, what he was going to do, and had done nothing. They were toxic together. Their friendship was why those people were dead.

Owen hated Matt for what happened. He had told him as much the few times he visited him in prison. Matt had killed two people. Two people who had families, who had friends, who had futures. Matt had snuffed them out like it was some kind of joke, and he’d made Owen a part of it.

That should’ve been the only thing he felt, but it wasn’t. Owen missed him, too. He missed the times they spent together, before everything went to shit.

He managed to get the address from a friend, who had heard it from someone else. He wasn’t even sure it was right. He just asked to know to avoid the place. He didn’t want to see Matt ever again.

It was pointless to even think about it.

Several months after Matt got out on parole, several months of mental turmoil, Owen drove out to find him. He wanted closure. He needed it. Technically, they weren't legally barred from seeing each other. He found the place, some shitty little apartment. He felt ill the entire drive there. He parked outside, and just watched.

He knew he shouldn’t have done it. The address was probably wrong, anyway. He secretly hoped it wasn’t. He wondered if Matt might try to hurt him. He knew Matt probably wouldn’t.

The person who lived at the apartment got home from work, and he knew instantly that it really was Matt. He felt his stomach sink as he watched Matt unlock his apartment and go inside. He waited, just a little while longer. The anticipation made him feel sick.

He got up. He got out of the car. His legs felt like they were made of jelly. He looked shady as hell, scoping this place out and then shuffling awkwardly over to the door, glancing around like he might get caught. He reached the doorstep and knocked. He waited.

A minute passed, and he felt like he might pass out. And then Matt opened the door. For a moment he looked confused, and then his face lit up with a smile.

"Owen?" He said, hesitant, like it might be some kind of dream. But he sounded relieved, too.

"Hi, Matt." Owen replied.

The stood in silence for a moment, neither one of them quite sure what to say. Matt was the one to break it. Of course he was.

"Uh- Come in?" He said. He still sounded unsure.

Owen stepped inside, and Matt shut the door behind him. He instantly regretted coming in, and the shame and anxiety washed over him like a chill passing through the room.

Matt stared at him. Owen stared back. He took in Matt’s appearance. His hair was grown out to shoulder length, and he was wearing a sweater and jeans. He looked older, and tired. He seemed a little wilted, like the life had been sucked out of him. But it was still him.

"Can we sit down?" Owen asked, finally.

"Uh- yeah, sure." Matt said.

He led them to the couch, and they sat down on opposing sides. There was about a couple feet between them.

"How have you been?" Matt asked.

"Good." Owen lied. "What about you?"

Matt only shrugged.

The air felt thick with tension. Owen tried to swallow down the lump in his throat.

"You look…" Owen began, "You look older."

"Yeah." Matt said. "So do you." His mouth twitched a little in amusement, but he mostly just looked sad.

They spent another minute just sitting in the discomfort. Owen wondered vaguely if Matt was still in love with him. He wondered what he was supposed to say to the person who had ruined his life. He wondered how much Matt had changed. He definitely seemed different. So much more unsure than before.

"I missed you," Owen said. He felt a little sick saying it. At least it was out.

"I missed you too." Matt replied, smiling a little.

"But I don't forgive you." Owen said.

Matt stopped smiling. He stared at the floor.

"I got arrested. For knowing and not doing anything. My family had to pay a fine. Everyone hated me, they all thought it was my fault." Owen said. "Every single day I'd get people telling me that it was my fault. That I was a school shooter's boyfriend. My family had to move away because of it."

"I'm sorry." Matt said. He looked genuinely surpised, like he'd expected what he did to actually protect Owen, somehow. He already knew about the arrest, he didn't know about the bullying.

"What did you think was going to happen, Matt? That you'd save me from the bullies, and I'd ditch Chrissy and fall in love with you instead? And we'd go and live happily ever after together in prison? Or we’d die together in a shootout with the cops?"

"I don't know." Matt said quietly. "But I never wanted you to die."

"You ruined my life, Matt. And you ruined your own life, and Jared's life, and you killed two people, and for what? To win my love? To get back at a few teenage homophobes? To make some shitty movie?"

"It wasn't shitty." Matt said.

Owen lunged closer to him and tried to slap Matt across the face. Matt flinched and blocked him with his arm on reflex.

"Are you seriously defending the fucking snuff film you made?!" He yelled in Matt’s face.

Matt tried to hit him back, but Owen grabbed his arm and it turned into a brief wrestling match before they quickly pulled apart.

"Did you come here just to show me you still hate me?" Matt asked.

"No, I told you, I came here because I fucking miss you!" Owen said.

Owen put his head in his hands and began to cry. He tried to stop, to calm himself down, but instead just cried harder. Sobs turned into agonized wails between painful gasps for air. He felt like he was going puke. He hadn’t cried that hard since Matt went to prison. It felt like it was all coming up, like every second of it was happening to him at once.

Matt looked alarmed. He scooted closer and hovered a hand over Owen's shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I didn't want- I didn't mean to hurt you." Matt said. "I didn’t mean to fuck up your life. I just wanted to help you."

"Well, you did hurt me." Owen choked out through sobs. After several minutes of trying to catch his breath, he kept talking, "I'm sorry too. I'm sorry I didn't stop you. I knew something was happening to you, something bad, I just didn't know what to do. You made it so hard to know what to do. But you weren't well, and I knew you weren't, and I should've told somebody, and I didn't."

Matt put his arm around Owen’s shoulders.

"I hate this. I hate missing you, and feeling bad for missing you, and I hate imagining what I could’ve done differently. I hate thinking about what would’ve happened if I had just gone to your house and checked on you after our fight. After you stopped answering my calls." Owen said through tears.

"It’s okay." Matt said soothingly.

"No, it’s not." Owen muttered. He shrugged off Matt’s arm.

It took him several minutes to finally finish crying.

"I was so mad at you when they showed me the movie." Owen began hoarsely, "And when they showed it in court… It would’ve hurt less if you had just shot me."

"I would never do that to you, Owen." Matt said.

"I know."

"I meant all the stuff in it." Matt said, "All the sappy shit about us- That was real. I know you think it was just some sick way of getting attention, but I made it for you."

"I know, Matt. That's why it hurt so much." Owen said, growing frusterated, "I wish we could back to how we were before. But we can't. You were my best friend and you abandoned me."

"You abandoned me first. And I never meant to abandon you." Matt said. "But we're both back now. We're here now. Why can't it be how it was before?"

"Because we're adults, and you're a murderer. And stop trying to make me feel worse. I never abandoned you, I just started having other friends. You abandoned me when you stopped answering my calls and then shot up the school and went to prison."

"I didn't 'shoot it up.' And you did abandon me, when you stopped visiting me in prison and told me you hated me."

"You know it doesn't make a difference that you only shot 'the bad guys,' you still brought guns into a high school and killed people, and you knew what that meant and how it would affect everyone, and you wanted the attention you'd get for being a 'School Shooter'. You shot it up. And I'm sorry I stopped visiting you, but I couldn't take it anymore. I couldn't stand reliving it all like that! Like I'm doing right now!"

"So we're never going to see each other again after this?" Matt asked.

"I don't know." Owen said.

Matt sat in silence for a moment, seemingly pondering what Owen said.

"Do you wanna watch a movie, before you go?" He asked.

Owen thought it over.

"Sure."

They decided on Ferris Bueler's Day Off. Owen insisted on something non-violent and positive, in an attempt to avoid any further post-traumatic stress responses. It ended up upsetting him anyway, but he tried his best to enjoy it. Something about the 'anxious teen saved by his cartoonish, vaguely sociopathic best friend' thing bothered him.

They ordered pizza and ate it together on the couch while they watched. By the end of the movie they had sunk into the couch cushions, leaning against each other. It was dark out. Neither of them wanted to move. Owen was completely spent from crying. He knew Matt didn't want the moment to end, considering that they might not see each other again after it. Matt felt warm, pressed against his side, arm thrown lazily around his shoulders. It felt like old times. They stayed like that through the credits. Owen knew he couldn't keep visiting Matt. All it could do was make him feel guilty. Guilty for surviving, guilty for still caring about Matt, guilty for not stopping him in the first place.

Matt turned to him, the light from the screen reflecting off his eyes in the dim living room. Eerie. He looked like he wanted to say something. Owen waited for him to spit it out. Instead Matt moved, slowly, closer toward Owen's face. Slow enough that Owen had plenty of time to jump back, to push him away, to beat the shit out of him. Any of which would've felt warrented, all things considered. Instead he stayed still as Matt's lips connected briefly with his own. Their noses bumped together a little, and the pressure on his lips was light enough that it almost tickled. A chaste, slightly awkward kiss. Owen wondered if it was Matt's first. Matt pulled away and looked at him with desperate, pleading eyes, his mouth slightly agape, searching Owen's face for any affirmation that this was mutual.

"I love you, Owen." He whispered.

"I have to go home." Owen said back, quietly.

Owen watched Matt try to hold himself together. Owen wondered what it would have been like if their friendship had fizzled out naturally, if there had been no shooting. Maybe they both would have moved on by now. Matt probably would've gotten over him and found himself a nice boyfriend or something. Instead they were here, lying stagnant on a couch, trying to relive a childhood memory, Matt still desperately pining after a high school crush. It made him feel bad. For both of them. He had to get out of there.

Owen pushed himself off the couch. He patted Matt on the shoulder.

"Thanks, for this. I'm glad I got to talk to you." He said. He noticed a few tears falling down Matt's cheeks. He tried not to notice them. It struck him that Matt was being, really, truly vulnerable, in a way that was unusual for him. At least, it seemed that way. He considered the possibility that it was all just a bid for pity. Maybe it was a little of both. Tactical vulnerability. He made his way to the door.

"Goodnight, Matt."

"Goodnight, Owen." Matt said, his voice breaking.

Owen turned back gave him a polite, sympathetic little smile. It came out closer to a grimace. Matt sobbed. He felt like such an asshole, not comforting Matt after Matt had tried to comfort him. Matt was so fragile and insecure. It was one of his worst traits. It was a hazard of being an egotistical asshole, another of Matt's worst traits. He flashed back to Matt's passive suicidality in their youth, and briefly wondered if this rejection and abandonment would be what finally did him in and turned it active. Hopefully not. Probably not. If he was going to do it, he'd probably have done it back then. Owen sighed.

"I'm sorry." Owen said. "I have work tomorrow. I have to go."

"Ok." Matt croaked out. He shut his eyes and wept quietly.

"Bye, Matt."

Owen opened the door and walked out. He made his way to his car.

He didn't feel any better.