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It started with occasional hugs. Whenever they met by the bus stop, Matt would throw himself against Zach. During the first instance of this, he was genuinely pissed off.
“Dude! I could've tripped!” He shrieked angrily, causing the younger boy's joyful giggling to halt halfway. “What's wrong with you? Can't you just-” He groaned, preventing himself from further insulting his friend. After all, it was very early and other students were starting to line up for the bus.
It was quiet between them for a moment before Matt nudged him by the shoulder.
Zach immediately looked down with judgemental eyes. This was quickly dissolved into guilty wide eyes as he saw the other one wore a woeful expression. He tried to regain his stoic guise, letting out a small 'tsk' under his breathe. “Whatever. Just ask next time.” He nudged his friend in return, slightly reassuring the other that he's forgiven.
After that Matt began to ask Zach if he could greet him with a hug. It was awkward at first, getting told someone is actively about to give you affection. He didn't think he would ever get used to it.
Weeks went by of this and at some point, they just quietly skipped the whole warning. He started greeting Matt with open arms, letting them skip pass the awkward announcement of a hug.
Zach liked it a lot. The warm embrace of his only close friend in school or cul de sac. Though you might think they're both loner losers, they aren't. He has friends in school— just not close enough to be on the same level as Matt. They're cool, arguably.
He sits with them during lunchtime, exchanging lighthearted insults or gossiping about other students (or even teachers).
Zach tried to integrate Matt into the group once but they immediately started to throw passively racist remarks. It almost turned physical until Matt excused himself away from the group. The kids told Zach they think it's out of character for him to be friends with a loser who can't even speak English properly.
The group hasn't gotten along in a while, to say the least. But whatever, at least Matt was cooler than them. He could singlehandedly beat Zach's friends in a 'coolness competition' if he wanted to.
Matt was the only friend Zach actually allowed to get physically close with him. The morning hugs were a testament of that. It made him feel really appreciated. Reminds him of the days he was allowed to sleep beside his mother and...
His dad.
Ever since he was a kid, his dad would tell him he didn't deserve to be alive. That he was a mistake. He projected that negativity his father exposed him to to others— making it hard for him to create meaningful friendships.
He doesn't understand why his dad treats him like that. His mother used to tell him his dad was just stressed out by work. But over time, even she got tired.
One day, his mother just decided to up and leave them. No explanation or disclosure as to why. Not even a clue to where she'd gone to.
It made him believe everything his father said. That he was good for nothing, spawn of a bitch.
He didn't deserve the air he breathed, it belonged to everyone else that was worthy to even be alive.
‘Fuck.’
He stared at his pajamas' sleeves, the room was pretty dim. Matt laid asleep beside him, chest going up and down in a rhythmical pattern. Zach pivoted his face to the right. He observed him, begrudgingly. A smile was plastered across his face. He must feel so safe and happy with how his life was.
Bet everyone would miss him if he disappeared. Not Zach, his father would probably feel better without his leeching existence.
Matt doesn't have to worry about what others think. He has his loving family, always ready to comfort and love him.
Zach's chest tightened at the thought of Matt laughing as his father and mother would hang out with him. He wants— no, craves that.
The boy didn't have to worry about starving to sleep because he simply breathed too loud around his parents. Matt had it good. Anything he wanted or needed, they could give it to him.
Fuck, it wasn't fair. Why can't he get that kind of experience? Tears welled up from his eyes, his teeth digging into his tongue. His hands now gripped his sleeves, tugging them further downwards.
Coughing out a quiet sob, he felt Matt shift closer to him. Groaning, Zach immediately fixed his head to look up the ceiling. Fuck, great. Matt's gonna wake up and ask him what's wrong. Then he'll rub all over Zach's face about how his parents know how to comfort him when's sad and he wants to do the same for Zach. He doesn't need Matt's pity, he doesn't—
“Skeet... Are you okay?”
He doesn't wanna bother Matt with his existence.
“I'm fine.”
His voice cracked. It sounded pathetic.
He heard fabrics shuffling beside him and the blanket slightly lifted up. “What are you-?”
Matt wrapped his arms around Zach, making him lean to his side more. “I know you're not okay.” His voice was faint, being muffled by Zach's sleeves. “I remember you told me about how scared you can feel— about a lot of things. I understand that...” He paused for a moment before slowly retreating back to his side of the bed. Copying how Zach laid, they both stared at the ceiling. It was quiet. Not the buzzing kind or the suffocating one, it was just silent.
“Ma always tells me that it's okay to talk about how you feel. It doesn't make you weak, it makes you strong.” He smiled. Zach saw from the corner of his eyes. Curse the moonlight illuminating the room within. Was this pity or... was he actually trying to understand Zach?
He breathes in. Shaky and frail. He opens his mouth to speak. He doesn't know what to say.
Matt is usually stupid. Not understanding the situation. Something about struggling with tones. But tonight seemed different and Zach feels... seen?
It's like that time they were in the bus stop. When Matt learned to ask before giving him a hug.
Or like the time him and his friends were arguing over their blatant racist remarks towards Matt. And it was stressing out Zach, he just left so they would change topic.
Why...
Why was he being nice?
Has he always been this nice? The tears finally fell down his cheek. They were continuous.
Fuck.
He covered up his face, trying to stop the faucet that was his eyes.
Matt wanted to throw a hug towards Skeet. But he fought his instinct back, staying where he laid and allowed Zach to finally take up the space he deserved.
His sobs were strained, like his body wasn't sure if this was the right way to cry. He was never allowed to cry, how was he suppose to know.
“Matt...” He says in between sobs and hiccups.
“Yes?”
“I really hate myself.. That's why I'm mean to you..”
“I don't think you're mean—”
“No.. I am. I hate you for what you have. For having what I wish I had...”
“Skeet..”
Matt slowly sat up, watching Zach harshly wipe the tears from his eye. He was about to get off the bed to get him some tissues but he felt movements behind him. He had followed suit and rose up from where he laid. Matt watched him reach his arms forward, pulling Matt into a hug.
“I'm sorry.. I just need this... You make me feel so happy for being alive.”
Matt smiled and rubbed his back. “That's okay, Skeet. I'm sorry your life isn't any better... If I could, you would live here with me.”
God. The thought of that. A livable house, edible food, comfortable bed, and an actual family. He clung onto Matt even tighter, holding onto hope that his struggles will be acknowledged someday.
Acknowledged like how Matt makes him feel.
“I'm sorry for hating you in my mind. You're a good kid... You're my best... friend...”
He sniffles, burying his face onto Matt's neck. Putting his whole weigh into the hug, Matt falls back and Skeet curled into a fetal position to his side.
“You're my best friend too, Skeet!”