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Alex‘s manager is on his ass again.
It seems that when the guy has had enough caffeine, but hasn’t had enough money being made from his millions and millions of different song catalogues and Alex is just managed to somehow come on a day to LA where he’s being basically cornered not left the office in about 10 hours that he always has to introduce Alex to someone that he could possibly “get along” with.
It’s not that Alex is a difficult client. On the contrary, he seems to be one of the more easy-going ones that his management has to deal with. He’s just not very good at making friends, especially in a place like LA which is fundamentally different from BC altogether. LA is loud and boisterous and just too sparkly for him really.
BC isn’t like that. His whole system of friends isn’t like that. His producers, the friends that he’s trying to get into the industry - they’re all homely to him in a way that LA is not and probably never will be. That being said, despite his avoidance of most of the people his manager recommends to him, he can’t help but be a little intrigued by this one.
Apparently, his name is Matt. Matthew. Matthew Hauri. Goes under the name of Yung Gravy, front man for some weird fucking Emo band that probably never made it out of garage status before he broke out on his own and was discovered on a now viral TikTok - therefore putting for putting himself in Alex’s stupid book because why the fuck would he want to associate with a TikTok star?
(Okay, yeah, his image is particularly internet saturated, but that does not mean it’s internet adjacent thank you very much)
His manager uses all the right words - Matt’s a cool guy, you’ve never met anyone like him, I swear he’s not as bad as he sounds, blah blah blah. Alex knows when he’s being set up. He also knows when he’s expected not to say no which irks him a lot as he wants to say no.
Unfortunately, his professional reputation is on the line and he’s also got a career to think about, so he just plasters on that fake smile that he uses when he is in the grocery store and someone cuts in front of him and says yes. Yes to meeting Matt Hauri, yes to interacting with a guy that he probably wouldn’t be able to stand if they were in the same room together 5 feet apart and yes, if they get along, to possibly think about doing a collaboration with him
(Spoiler alert: They’re not gonna get along, at least that’s what Alex thinks)
Only he knew what kind of convoluted cat and mouth game his management was playing with him - for as soon as he walks into the too spacious office that he’s being sent to like a prison sentence, his entire life switches on it’s axis and he can’t breathe.
Alex was expecting some sort of A grade asshole, someone who was literally just like licking a battery, acidic, tasteless, corporate. Maybe even a little bit bitter, you know, like Alex was a minute ago.
He is not expecting blonde curls, blue eyes and black lipstick that is wrapped around teeth that are smiling at him as if he is the most fascinating thing in the room right now. Matt also seems to be wearing eyeliner, which Alex is quite a fan of (because goddamn, those blue eyes look so fucking good in it) just dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans, chain with a lock on it swinging precariously around his neck.
He’s also fucking tall, so goddamn tall, Jesus Christ - Alex could climb this man like a tree (and he’s not exactly unwilling to put that thought away) before his brain smacked him back into reality and made his feet walk forward, a hand stretched out. “ You must be Matt then, I’m Alex, it’s nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too, Alex.” Oh. Oh. Oh, his voice is nice. It’s rich and deep, some sort of twang in it that makes Alex‘s knees go weak. That almost childish smile is back again and he can feel Matt’s eyes roaming down his entire body as he stands there craning his neck up to look at him. “You’re a lot shorter than what your management said you were, no offense. They said you were 5 foot 11.”
“Well, not all of us can be giants, you Sasquatch.” Alex bites back automatically hoping he doesn’t sound too indignant. It seems to land with Matt though who instead of just bristling or smirking or scrunching his nose (typical Alex type reactions) actually laughs, the sound filling Alex’s chest like air, golden and floaty just like Matt’s curls. He wants to hear more of it.
Hell, he wants to hear everything and anything to do with Matt. Oh shit, is this is what down bad feels like? Alex has been procrastinating on his sexuality crisis since he was a teenager, but he feels with a little bit of terror that the more time he spends around Matt, the less he will be procrastinating over that. In fact, the more time he spends around Matt, even if it’s just in the small office in the middle of LA trading personal shit back-and-forth, the more he thinks that this might be okay.
(Matt’s apparently from Minnesota, studied marketing in Wisconsin and then hopped, skipped and jumped right into the LA when he went viral, he’s still getting used to it all - Alex can attest to that, both of them wincing as they recall their college exams, Matt’s practically rolling his eyes at Alex’s kinesiology degree, but not in a way that makes Alex angry, it’s more playful. Impressed, but mocking. It makes Alex’s chest burn unfamiliarly.)
By the time they’re supposed to be leaving (Matt has a meeting and Alex is pretty much being set loose onto the populous of California with the promise of an iced coffee and an Airbnb waiting for him) they’ve traded numbers, ribbed each other about hockey playoffs and promise to speak to each other as soon as they’re able to get past all the paperwork.
That approach lasts all about five seconds when Alex is walking out of the glass doors of that building and his phone is suddenly buzzing with a text. Fumbling with his bag to be able to retrieve his phone Alex looks at the incoming message before bursting out in incredulous laughter, looking like a weirdo on the street as he zooms into the picture.
It’s a picture of him talking with his manager outside of the same room him and Matt only Matt has got his forefinger and thumb over Alex’s head and feet accordingly and has captured it with the most witty thing that he thinks that the midwesterner could possibly have come up with: got a new shawty who is a shorty!
It makes Alex‘s cheeks burn, but doesn’t mention that to anyone, hastily stuffing his phone in his pocket before going on his way.
Of course, this is just one meeting. In the grand scheme of things.
He doesn’t know that the entirety of their text exchange will soon be taller than Matt’s height combined with his, that Matt will hold him in bear hugs that will calm his anxieties and chase away worries that plague him every single day.
He doesn’t know that Matt’s arms will be his safe haven when his insomnia is acting up, his voice becoming an anchor for him when the world gets too much, the rough edge to it adding more to Alex’s entire being than just a diverse song catalogue and jokes.
He doesn’t know that Matt’s playlists will soon be on his Spotify or that Matt’s fingers will be on his thighs, his hips, his chest, his ass. Sometimes they’ll even be in his mouth, trailing down his neck and through his hair, resting on his jaw or in the dip of his neck. That those black stained lips would leave marks all over his body that are a shame to cover and a crime to erase.
He doesn’t know the plan that fate has in store for them.
Right now, all he knows is that it’s time to go and get a nice coffee and then possibly spread eagle in a bed and sleep for 12 hours. He’ll probably text Matt back later. Hell, maybe he’ll just send some shitty meme from one of his fanbase or something he made himself and see what he gets back in response.
Yeah, that sounds pretty good.