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The way the heavy bass is vibrating through the floor beneath him and up his already unsteady legs makes him uncomfortable as he shuffles from side to side in an attempt to look more relaxed than he feels.
It's hot, almost unbearably so. The beaming lights and smoke machines are beginning to make it difficult for him to breathe as sticky people continue to clumsily crash into him, not caring about the way he almost spilled his drink all over them and himself. He can feel the way his heart beat is thumping along to the music as the speakers make the floor shake, loud laughter and the shouting of shallow conversations are beginning to make his ears ache.
If he's being honest it's all making him feel a little sick.
Fuck he hates this.
But he can't just leave, he's meant to be having a good time.
He’d promise Chris that he’d try.
That he was better now.
His brother had been so excited when he’d approached Matt this afternoon, appearing around the threshold of his room, practically radiating at the prospect of being invited to a party by their newer circle of friends. With the way his blue eyes had sparkled, how could Matt ever say no.
Admittedly, they're not usually the type, either of them, but they had nothing else planned and figured it could be fun. Matt had barely had the chance to nod as Chris grinned brightly at his answer, before bouncing out of the room. Before he knew it music was blaring through the house, as Chris was getting himself ready, which only made Matt laugh fondly with a shake of his head before returning back to his computer screen, they still had another 4 hours before they even needed to leave.
And so here he was.
Surrounded by semi-strangers in a too-hot room and feeling as if the walls were going to close in around him.
A girl he half recognises is talking to him, she's nice, he notes, as she talks to him and the rest of their friends excitedly, gesturing wildly as she recounts a funny story that Matt hadn't been listening to, too consumed with trying to act natural for someone who felt like their lungs were beginning to claw out of his ribcage. But still he nodded along and laughed politely when their other friends did.
He keeps a watchful eye out for Chris, wondering where he is, if he's having a good time and how long he’d have to endure this feeling before they could leave to go home.
He glances in the direction of what he assumes is the dancefloor, the bright lights and big speakers giving him a hint. Sure enough, he finds Chris in the middle of the crowd, laughing brightly with his head tipped back at something his friend had leaned in to say as they continued to dance, happily lost in the crowd that surrounds them.
Matt’s sure that he would feel more relaxed if Chris was next to him right now.
But he can't rely on him anymore, this isn't high school.
The thought catches him off guard and only makes him feel worse as the air in the room suddenly feels thinner than it did a moment ago. It makes it hard for him to catch his breath and even harder for him to return the eager smiles of those around him.
Unable to stand what he knows is steadily building panic in his chest for a moment longer, Matt quietly excuses himself, waving off his friends who’re shouting after him and asking if he's alright. He laughs them off and points at the red solo cup in his hand, offering them what he hopes is a smile, though it feels far more like a grimace on his lips.
He squeezes his way through the crowd as friends he's met once or twice before smile and wave at him excitedly. The realisation that he's the only person here not having a good time hits him like a tonne of bricks.
He squeezes his eyes shut tightly to keep the tears at bay as he tries to push down how fundamentally broken he feels right now.
He thought he'd moved past this, that he didn't get anxious anymore. That he was better now. That socialising was something easy for him now that he’d moved to LA. He thought he could be a different person here, desperately hoping that the anxious and timid kid he once was back in Boston, could be left behind there. He'd tried so hard to push past this with countless therapy sessions, medications, even nagging his brothers to help him push him out of his comfort zone so that he would be able to finally shake free of this anchor that's attached to his foot that's pulling him under and drowning him.
His head is spinning by the time he makes it outside and crouches down to perch on the steps leading down towards the poolside where a few people are chatting by the loungers, but still far enough away to not notice or engage with him.
He lets his head fall defeatedly into his hands as he tries to regain control of his shaky breathing. It smells like cigarette smoke out here, he notes, though he finds it strangely grounding out here in the open air of the breezy California Hills. He can still hear the low thumping of the bass music even from out here and he thinks briefly of the hosts poor neighbours, but quickly discards the thought, brought out of his head by the buzzing of his phone in his pocket. He ignores it, knowing it's probably just Nick, who’d stayed home tonight, proudly stating that there was nothing he’d rather do less, and that he had a date with a pizza box and a movie instead.
God Matt wishes he’d stayed home with him.
His heart aches, and it forces another shaky breath out of him as he pulls a shaky hand to rub at his chest. Whilst his one hand rubs at his chest, he tucks his other into the pocket of his leather jacket, eyes widening as he feels the familiar hard plastic of car keys in his palm.
Guilt immediately washes over him as he thinks back to the last conversation he'd had with Chris.
He’d been so angry when they’d pulled up to the party in Chris’ car. Just before stepping out, Chris had reached over the center console and grabbed his wrist, holding his brother's strong hand out and placing the car keys into his open palm with a meaningful look on his face.
“Just in case, y’know,” Chris had told him, though it felt like Chris didn't believe in him and his resolve to stay tonight.
“Kid, I’m not taking these,” Matt laughed incredulously, feeling offended, “I asked you to take your car, remember, so I’d be forced to stay out until you’re ready to go,”
The ‘I'm not ruining another night out for you’, going unsaid though they both heard it.
Chris eyes him sadly and it only fuels the heavy feeling of disappointment in Matt’s chest, even his own brother didn't think he could do this, “just take them, Matt. If you wanna leave, go home okay? Plus you’re the only one with zip pockets,”
And he can’t argue with that, or the way Chris grins cheekily up at him before unbuckling his seatbelt and jumping out of the car, Matt following closely behind him, unable to help the way he smiles back at his brother and follows his lead into the party.
Chris had been right not to believe he could do this, he thinks bitterly.
But he can’t go home, he can't leave Chris here, he couldn't prove that his brother was right about him and that he really couldn't do this.
That he really hasn't changed since high school.
He's still the same small, pathetic and anxious teenager. The same kid who hated himself so much.
He takes his time outside, letting the cool breeze settle his frayed nerves. He likes being out here, the low rumble of music, combined with the soft laughter coming from the smokers on the deck above him settles his chest a little as he continues to focus on his awkward breathing.
He's not sure how long he spends outside, head resting quietly in his hands just breathing before one of his friends tracks him down reaches a steady hand down to pull him up and drag him back into the hellscape that was the party that's only become louder in his absence. He pushes down the rising dread as he's pulled further inside. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad now that he's taken some time outside, he reasons hopelessly, maybe he could start having more fun like Chris.
Oh he was wrong.
He was so fucking wrong.
It was worse.
As soon as Matt steps back into the sticky haze that smells heavily of cologne and alcohol, his chest seizes up again, squeezing sharply around his heart. His skin itches with the sudden and desperate need to get the hell out of there but with the way his friend has his arm wrapped around his shoulder and pulls him over towards the big group in the middle of the room, he knew he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.
He's trapped.
He cringes as he's met with a loud round of cheers as his friend reintroduces him to the group that's only grown since he escaped outside, though with the way his head is beginning to swim he hardly registers the excited introductions from the newcomers. A cold soda is pressed into his hand which he grips onto like a lifeline, the only thing grounding him amongst this sea of overwhelm.
He feels himself start to mentally pull back, like his brain is disappearing into itself, hiding itself away from the noise and panic that's raging though his system. That horrible spacy feeling begins to take over, all whilst the electricity of panic still thrum nastily through his veins.
This is bad, he thinks absently, like really bad, he hasn't felt like this since he was a teenager.
Chris heaves out a breath as he hunches over the kitchen table, happily accepting the can of Pepsi his friend passes him, laughing joyfully as he catches his breath, he doesn't think he's ever danced like that or for so long in his life.
He was having fun, he's so glad that he dragged Matt here, though now that he thinks about it, he doesn't think he'd seen him since about an hour into the party. The last time he'd seen him, he was chilling in the living room on the sofa, surrounded by some of their newer LA friends.
He thinks that he should probably try and find him, see where he's at. When he checks his phone and doesn't see any texts from him letting him know he'd left early, a swell of pride in his chest at the recognition that Matt had stayed out way later than he'd expected him to.
He’d wanted Matt to have fun, more than anything.
His friend nudges his elbow, pulling his attention back towards him and his group of friends, asking if he's going to keep dancing to which he shakes his head, telling them he's going to find Matt, but he’ll come find them later. They all nod and rub at his hair and shoulders as they make their way back in the direction of the loud speakers.
He grimaces a little at the following song choice, they'd changed the DJ about an hour ago and the music hadn't been hitting the same since. Whatever, it's a good excuse for him to go and find Matt.
He chugs the rest of his pepsi before making his way through the crowded house, weaving carefully between the groups of inebriated people, he doesn't think he's ever seen so many ragingly drunk people in his life, probably because he almost never stays at a party this late, either going home with Matt or simply ditching to grab takeout with his friends.
He almost trips over several pairs of feet before he makes it to the biggest room that opens out towards the second set of speakers that's playing the same awful set list as the dance floor, it's seriously packed in here and he feels a bit like a sardine as he pushes through the crowd.
Eventually his eyes fall onto the familiar fluff of brown hair that he knows that Matt had spent ages preening before they left earlier, already feeling his smile widen as he begins to approach the surprisingly big and loud group of people Matt’s surrounded by.
His smile is quickly wiped off of his face as he gets close enough to spot the washed out look in his brother’s eyes, they’re vacant and unfocused, almost completely devoid of their usual warm blue hue and it makes his heart drop into his stomach.
This wasn't good, not good at all.
He knew what this was.
He'd only ever seen Matt out of his head like this a couple of times before, the worst had been after their senior prom at their friends house party. It had taken Matt almost a full two hours to come back to himself after Nick had found him hyperventilating between choked out sobs in the bathroom, unable to speak or do much of anything.
It had scared the hell out of all three of them.
He really hoped this wouldn’t be like back then.
Chris quickly refocuses on his brother, who needs him right now, regaining his confident steps towards the group from where they had started to hesitate at seeing the state his brother was in. Making sure to plaster a big grin on his face as he's loudly greeted and fist bumped by the group, asking how his night had been so far.
“Pretty good, pretty good,” he grins before siding over towards his brother. As soon as he’s close enough, their arms brushing against each other, Matt’s hand shoots up and grips at the sleeves of his letterman jacket tightly with his fists, almost as if it was the only thing tying him to Earth right now, and Chris thinks it might be.
He leans in and utters, “you okay, Matt?”
Matt shifts uncomfortably but doesn't answer, doesn't even look in Chris’ direction, which worries him.
“Okay Matt, time to go,” Chris decides, voice low and serious, he’s not fucking around anymore and he’s definately not going to stay somewhere where his brother is uncomfortable.
He repeats himself louder this time for the rest of the group to hear, keeping his voice casual as he wraps an arm around his brother and guides him away from the crowd, shielding off their disappointed comments and offering his apologies for pulling his seemingly popular brother away from them, fumbling some kind of weak excuse about having other plans, only becoming increasingly more keen to get away from them.
Once they’re outside, and the music fades into the background and the coolness of the late night air hits them, Matt seems to return to himself a little, his blue eyes clearing slightly. Chris startles as Matt wrenches his arm away from where Chris is guiding him towards the car, or at least where he thinks they parked the car.
“You’re okay, Matt,” Chris tells him, knowing he’s probably a little disorientated, “we’re going home, party's over,”
Matt's wide and watery eyes study him for a moment before nodding, letting go of a shaky exhale as he does, clearly relieved that his nightmare of a night is coming to an end.
Chris moves closer towards him and reaches his hand out slowly, waiting for the rejection, knowing that sometimes Matt doesn't like to be touched when he feels like this, but to his pleasant surprise Matt takes his hand and lets himself be pulled towards the car, only stopping to pull them in the opposite direction, muttering a quiet, “its this way, idiot,”
By the time they reach the car, Matt's breathing is steadier and he seems more present than he did a few minutes ago, Chris notes feeling relieved. However, that feeling quickly diminishes as he watches Matt pull out the car keys, and moves towards the driver's seat.
“Kid are you fucking crazy?!” Chris can't help but shout incredulously, moving to yank the keys out of Matt's hand, but he’s too slow.
“I’m driving us home Chris,” Matt states, holding the keys above his head childishly.
“Dude you were basically out of your head 5 minutes ago, you're actually insane if you think for even a second that I'm gonna let you drive us back!”
Chris doesn't even make a move for the keys held high above Matt's head, despite them being the same height. Instead he repositions the cap on his head, threatening his fingers through his hair as he thinks about his next move, he already knows Matt’s not going to relent on this, but he has to try.
He really doesnt want Nick to yell at him for letting Matt drive home like this,fuck.
He briefly considers punching him in the stomach. He'd easily gain the upper hand that way, swiping the keys from his hand whilst he's doubled over in pain, but Chris knows that Matt’s chest probably already aches with the way it's been wound tightly for what he assumes is the majority of the evening. He really doesn't want to kick him whilst he's down, he's meant to be here helping Matt feel better, not sucker punch him in the stomach.
“I’m fucking driving,” Matt reiterates with gritted teeth, now moving to get into the front seat, “you coulda drank for all I know,”
“I didn't,” he adamantly denies, now moving to clap his hands for emphasis, as his brother clearly wasn't getting it, "Plus, I already said, you're not driving,”
“Chris..” Matt sighs and drags a hand down his face in desperation, his voice wobbling dangerously as he pleads, “please, I need to drive…”
Chris is taken aback by the sudden desperate and pleading tone coming from Matt. He needs the distraction, Chris realises. Every single time, Matt had left a party or hang out early, anxious and beyond uncomfortable, he'd driven himself home and probably used it as a time to collect his thoughts and process them before arriving back home, so he wouldn't scream and cry and bite his poor parents heads off in an ugly mix of frustration and self hatred when they welcome him home, asking where his brothers were and why they didn't come home with him.
Chris sighs heavily, meeting his brother's eyes and levelling him with a defeated glare, “you sure you're good to drive?” he asks, not actually wanting an answer, "you're not so out of your head that you'll crash ‘n kill us halfway home, right? Cause I’ll be so mad and Nick will be too,”
Matt frowns softly at him then as his whole demeanour changes, reaching his hand out to grab Chris’ and squeezes it, offering warm reassurance despite himself, "I'm good, Chris, I swear. I wouldn't drive if I didn't think I could, especially not with you in the car,”
Chris nods once, believing and trusting in him, knowing that Matt would never do anything to intentionally put any of them in danger. He lets their entwined hands drop gently before circling around the front of the car and swinging himself into the passenger seat, ready to set up his usual music for the drive home as Matt starts up the ignition.
The drive home is quiet, Chris letting Matt take all the time he needs to collect himself and his thoughts as he weaves easily through the LA streets, red, yellow and green lights casting a soft glow into the car. Chris pays him no mind, singing softly along to the quiet music playing between them, only sparing the occasional glance up at his brother, wanting to ensure he was still okay to drive.
Chris lets his eyes trail down the older's still tense shoulders, actually he's sure they've only gotten tighter since they'd started to drive home, his jaw’s clenched tightly too and his grip on the steering wheel isn't as delicate as it usually is, plus there's still that undercurrent of shaking and forced even breathing that Chris doesn't miss, even in the low lighting of the car. So he simply sits, and lets Matt drive, using the fact that he's focused on the road, to pull his phone out and update Nick.
[CHRIZZ]
Heads up! Heading back
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Kinda early?? Is Matt okay???
[CHRIZZ]
Idk, dont think so??
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:(
[CHRIZZ]
ETA 20
[IconNIC]
<3
Chris already knows that Matt’s retreated back into his head by the time they pull up into their garage and kill the engine. Nick must have been waiting for them, as he appears through the door almost immediately, moving towards the car, tip-toeing on the cold concrete beneath his feet.
“Matty?” Chris tries softly, a little spooked by the way Matt continues to stare straight ahead, unresponsive.
The driver's door opens softly as Nick’s soft face appears, partially obscured by the oversized hood he was wearing as he offers a warm smile, though Matt doesn't see it.
It then dawns on Nick that Matt’s in the driver's seat and not Chris, his face immediately switches to a frown, warm eyes hardening as he glares towards his youngest brother.
“You let him fucking drive like this?” he hisses, clearly furious with him.
Chris tries to hold his hands up defensively, “he wouldn't let me drive!! He insisted he was fine!”
He can tell that Nick wanted to push the issue, but that could wait. Right now they both needed to help with Matt, whose hands were still tightly gripping the steering wheel unwilling to let go as he’s deep in the throes of overthinking.
“Matty,” Chris tries again, leaning close but still not daring to touch him, “Matty, can you hear us? We’re home now,”
“Why don't we go inside, hm? It's so cold out here,” Nick suggests, voice low. They exchange a worried glance when Matt doesn't move, or give any indication that he’d heard them, eyes painfully blank and unfocused in the dim garage lighting.
Nick's eyes don't leave his younger brother as a nauseous sort of feeling starts to seep into his stomach. He hates seeing Matt like this, and sure it had been so long since this had last happened, he'd been doing so much better and working so freaking hard to achieve it. But recovery wasn't a perfect, linear trajectory, it was messy, complicated and endlessly cruel. He silently wishes now, as he watches the way Matt breathing starts to stutter harshly, that he’d done more research on how to help him. Watching this unfold was unbelievably painful and he wanted nothing more than to take it all away from him.
It makes them both startle, as heavy fists slam against the steering wheel, hitting it once, twice, three times, before Matt suddenly lurches forward, moving to force his head against the hard leather in front of him. Thankfully, Chris’ hand beats him to it, acting as a buffer between his brother's forehead and the steering wheel, trapping his hand between them in a way that would be painful in any other situation, but right now he can only focus on Matt.
He doesn't move, letting his head rest defeatedly against Chris’ hand, silently seething that his brother had predicted his next move and stepped in before he could hurt himself, before he could slam his head harshly into the cool leather and shut his brain up in the way he needs so badly right now. With ragged breaths, he brings his hands up to pull mercilessly at his hair, desperate to feel something, anything right now to distract from the hole in his chest threatening to rip him apart from the inside.
“Matty, don't do that,” Chris whines sadly as uses his free hand to pull Matt’s own away from his hair, entangling their fingers together instead.
“Baby, are you back with us?” Nick asks, reaching with his own hand to mirror Chris' actions, closing their enclosed hands together to press a kiss to the back of his hand.
“I thought I could do it..” is all Matt can grit out with clenched teeth, voice strained with all the emotions he was trying to desperately swallow.
“Do what?” Nick asks gently, not wanting Matt to retreat inside his head again.
It's quiet for a moment as only the sound of Matt’s heavy breathing fills the baited silence.
“Stay..”
Nick and Chris’ eyes meet again as they both swallow thickly, beginning to piece together what the real cause of all of this was, because they both knew it wasn't the party, not really, that had just made everything so much worse.
“Hey are you kidding, you did stay Matty!” Chris encourages him, shaking their connected hand upwards in celebration, moving his other hand from underneath his forehead to ruff up his brothers hair, just like they used to to in hockey every time a goal was scored, chests bursting with pride and warmth, “you stayed so late, I didn't even know you were still hanging out,”
Matt shakes his head, unable to stop himself from thumping it harshly against the steering wheel a couple of times, the dull pain it brings helps, though he's quickly stopped by a suddenly serious Nick.
“Kid, I know you want to right now, but you’ve gotta stop hurting yourself,” he says sadly before turning to speak to Chris, “we can't stay here, especially if he's gonna keep doing…that, let's move upstairs,”
Chris is eager to agree as he's beginning to feel claustrophobic from being trapped inside the car and unable to really do anything to help and so he quickly gets up and out of the car and over towards Nick as they both set about guiding Matt out of the car. It's not easy, his body is uncooperative, unwilling to move in any kind of controlled fashion, his legs shaky and weak as Matt lets his brothers wind strong arms around his waist, supporting him as they lead him upstairs and towards the living room.
It's exactly as Nick had left it, the room set in a dark blue light with the TV paused on the movie he was watching as soft blankets surround the plush couch cushions alongside the scattering of snacks and leftovers that were discarded on the coffee table. Nick was a pro at the movie night set up, it was something his brothers often marvelled at, and no matter how hard they both tried, they never managed to create the same soft and cozy atmosphere without him.
They place Matt down in the corner of their L-shaped sofa, knowing that's where he’d feel the most safe. They were proven right when Matt wastes no time backing as far into the couch cushions as he could before pulling his knees up and burying his face in them, curling up into a tiny ball of distress. Nick and Chris can only smile sadly at each other as they look back at Matt, still shaking and trying desperately to disguise the quiet cries bleeding from his chest.
Nick leaves to fetch him a bottle of water from the fridge as Chris reaches over the couch and places one of the many soft blankets over his brother's knees, the warm fleece giving him something to run his shaking hands over.
To their surprise, it's Matt who speaks first, breaking the tentative silence as he talks quietly between his knees, not daring to look up and face either of them, “I really thought I had it this time…”
“Can you tell us what's wrong?” Nick tries as he walks over and moves to sit on his brother's other side with the water bottle in his hand for whenever Matt’s ready.
Matt shakes his head as he takes a deep breath, unable to stop his self-hating monologue. He's suddenly overwhelmed by the desperate need to get it all out of his head, off of his chest and out in the open. The way his thoughts are spiraling is beginning to make his head spin, he knows how this goes, how quickly this becomes a dark path to tread, and once it starts he won’t be able to stop it.
“I can't believe I thought I could do this- that I'm all better. That the work I put in would actually mean something. God, I hate this so much, I hate myself, I hate myself so much. Why is it so fucking hard for me to just go to a party? Everyone else manages just fine, but me? No! I have to humiliate myself and Chris by acting like a baby and dragging him home and ruining his fun, why can't I have fun? What's wrong with me, I feel like I'm so broken..”
“Kid, you’ve gotta stop putting so much pressure on yourself,” Chris whispers sadly, unsurprised by his brother's words, but heart still aching knowing that's how he feels about himself. He moves to lean himself up against Matt’s side now that he’s burst into tears, the ugly and unrelenting sobs echo through the room and piercing straight into his brother's hearts, making them squeeze painfully.
“I-I just w-want to go to a f-f-fucking party without feeling like, like my lungs are trying to claw t-thier way out of my chest,” he continues amidst his choked breaths, “I’m so tired of this…”
“We know you are Matt, and we know how hard you work to be able to do what you already do,” Nick speaks up against his own choked up voice, reaching up to run a soft hand through his brother's hair. He can't meet Chris’ tear filled eyes, knowing he’ll only end up crying too, and then they’ll all be a mess, which isn't what Matt needs right now, “but you did do it. You went to the party and stayed out later than you usually do, even though you were uncomfortable. That's progress isn't it? Chris is right, you can't keep putting so much pressure on yourself, things will happen slowly, if you let them but you can't force it, baby,”
“But it's not fair!” Matt wails, flailing his hands around in frustration, “why did it have to be me, why can't I just be normal!”
“It is unfair, Matty,” Chris whispers, voice caught in his throat by his own tears, “you don't deserve to feel like this but it doesn't make you any less than me or our other friends. It doesn't change anything, right?”
Matt wants to argue and disprove everything his brothers are telling him, but he's exhausted now that the raging anxiety is beginning to subside leaving his bones heavy and his brain void of any coherent thought. It was as if he’d turned to mush and so instead of fighting, or denying any of their loving reassurances, he simply nods and lets his tight ball untangle and instead collapsing meekly to the side, placing his head into Nick's lap, whose hand continues to stroke through his hair, occasionally reaching down onto his face to wipe away the tears that spill over.
Chris follows Matt down into the couch cushions, leaning his head against Matt's sharp hip bone, extending his hands to entwine with Matt’s own and sighs contentedly when he finds they’re not shaking anymore. He reaches for the remote with his foot, pressing play on whatever movie it was that Nick had paused, hoping it wasn't anything too intense.
The soft opening notes of The Incredibles start to play, and Chris can't help but snicker, to himself as he looks over at Nick with judgment clear between his brows, “is this seriously what you're watching for your solo movie night?”
“Uh yeah?” Nick sasses back, “plus I'd already watched one movie but it was kinda scary so I wanted something comforting afterwards,”
“This is comforting,” Matt mumbles tiredly from his place in Nick's lap. He sounds softer now, calmer and that's all that Nick and Chris want, for him to bask in the comfort and safety of their home, right next to his two brothers.
At some point towards the middle of the movie, Chris and Matt decide to change out of their party clothes and into more comfortable pajama pants and tshirts, before lazily climbing back onto the couch where Nick had just replaced the popcorn bowl steaming with freshly microwaved goodness.
“d’you know what I think,” Chris pipes up a while later, just as Mr. Incredible is about to break free from Syndrome. The other two peer over towards him curiously, as he places another handful of popcorn into his mouth, speaking with his mouth full, only smiling at the two grossed out faces glaring back at him, "I'd way rather spend my Saturday nights doing this than going to some party,”
“Well yeah,” Nick answers like its an obvious conclusion he’d come to forever ago earning an eyeroll from Chris, “why’d you think I stayed home,”
“I agree,” Matt smiles, eyes half closed, "It's nice here,”
The other two smile softly in his direction for a moment before turning back towards the movie, letting it play out. Chris and Nick know they'll probably stay up and watch the second movie too, letting Matt sleep soundly on the couch for a while longer, then when it gets too late to ignore the heaviness of their own eyes, they'll then stumble clumsily into one of their bedrooms, collapsing onto the cloud like comforter, whilst making sure that Matt’s still settled and in the middle of them before finally allowing the night to come to an end, letting sleep take them into a new day.
Yeah, this is a way better way to spend their time.