Chapter Text
Pulling that boy up from the bridge was harder than it was supposed to be. Adrenaline, fear, and most of all, anger. Why did he have to do that? Huh? Jumping didn’t make the pain go away, not for anyone. If you disagree you’re wrong. So wrong. The two boys had their hands clutched tight together, while the boy pulling the other up had his legs about to give out. If they fell, it’d be game over for both of them. They both felt the despair, the need to let go, but neither of them would give in. Not this time. Hopefully, he had enough strength. Please God, just give me some strength.
The bridge was so high, so tall, yet the water was so shallow. It was the dead of night, nothing at all on the streets. Nothing fills the air besides soft cries and whimpers. The boy was lucky to find his friend there tonight, lucky to grab on in time. Somehow, it was like fate drew him here. He wasn’t gonna go to the bridge tonight, but something felt off. The other boy was quiet, and that in itself was scary.
“Dont you dare let go! Please! I want you to stay!” The boy shouted, sobbing hysterically as he tried pulling the other boy up, desperate. ‘God, please. All I need is strength. I can’t lose him.’ It was a prayer, religion wasn't his thing, but if anyone was in a higher power, anyone who could help him, he would take that help. Just let him live. Let them live. Let them solve their issues. Communicate. And the boy who was being pulled up seemed to want to live too. Live with himself.
—
Wow. Look at that loser over there in that corner. Gee, thanks for calling Matt a loser. He was sitting at his desk, drawing on an assignment as usual. Why was zoning out so easy for him? And so so addicting. He took a look around, taking in all those just like him. Bored, and exhausted. Nobody seemed to be doin’ the work, but the teacher kept on and on with the whole “you need good grades to graduate” speech. It was, yes, exhausting. He had one friend in this class, that was Noah. Noah was well, Noah. Recently though, they hadn’t been close. Matt hasn’t been close with anyone. Can you blame him?
It was only a few months into the school year, late december and Matt had already failed 2 classes, smoked at least 20 packets of cigarettes, and gotten 0 hoes. Okay, maybe he was a loser. In the back of the class, drawing. When class finally ended, he turned in his empty sheet (which had little anime character drawings all over the back) and made his way out the door. Only for Noah to rudely stop him! Wow, okay. Great. He was excited to talk to him…Matt groaned and slowly made his way to the side as Noah glared at him.
“You haven’t been talking to me, why?” Noah murmured, half curious, half worried. They used to be so close. Now..not so much.
“I’ve been busy with school.” Matt began, but was rudely cut off by Noah, “Don’t even start, you failed art. How the fuck do you fail art??” Okay..fair. Maybe Matt hadn’t been too honest about that. Maybe. He did frown, making sure to show how uncomfortable he was. And to that, Noah crossed his arms.
“I’d ask how you failed P.E but it’s clear you haven’t ran since ‘01.” Nice strike. Hopefully he’ll shut- “I’m not that fat. Don’t try to deflect Matt. Please, talk to me.” Noah practically whined. If Matt hadn’t recently gotten so depressed and suppressed his depression then he would feel bad. He would miss their old friendship too. But things are different now, you can’t really help that. Matt is a bad liar.
“I just… we drifted. I’m fine, alright?” Matt said before awkwardly patting Noah's shoulder and escaping out the classroom. It’s normal to avoid things, and conversations, and people…that’s just how Matt rolls. He likes isolation and avoidance! That’s how he was raised, anyway. He knows it’s not..like normal normal.
—
As Matt walks into the busy hallways, filled with couples making out and screaming, he realises one thing. He has art next. Ah man. So, he detours straight to the bathrooms. It kinda sucks you can’t smoke in school, that’d really calm him down. It just feels as if everyone is looking at him. He's not skipping art necessarily because he hates it, but he just hates the people in art. Like…like . Choel and Jax. They really suck. He also hates the noise of it all. He hates a lot of things, okay? Besides like his friends or whatever. Noah, Kailo and POSSIBLY..Maria. She’s okay. He only minds Noah. As in tolerates. Anyways, as he was sitting on the toilet, scrolling on his old phone, the bathroom door opens. It’s kind of…awkward. He doesn’t want to make it seem as if he’s shitting.
He quickly gets up and opens the stall, making his way to the sinks when he notices the boy. Troy. He knows OF Troy. Troy used to be Jax’s friend. He hates Jax so he just kind of immediately hated Troy. But seeing him now, he didn’t seem so bad.
“What exactly are you starin’ at?” Troy grumbled. The idiot was just standing in the corner hitting his vape. Wow, its a blue color. How cool.
“Oh no one, just a dude with wacky ass blue streaks in his hair. You wanted to match your vape huh?” Matt snickers, he was sometimes witty. And when he was, it felt so good. And maybe Troy’s blue streaks weren’t that bad. But he needed something!
“Hey I like the attempted diss!” Troy smiles. God he was so fake, wasn’t he? Matt groaned and slowly moved closer, examining him. Okay, he was cool. His style at least. Not his little attitude problem.
“Did Jax leave you cause yer attitude? Or your fuckass hair?” He retorted, smirking a little when Troy frowned. Ooh did that hit too deep? “Shut up. Who’re you? One of Jax’s fanboys?” Matt hummed, trying to get a real good look at Matt. Matt looked..almost too boring. Almost. His style saved him. He definitely fit in with the losers. But the cool ones. Cool losers.
“Absolutely not! Who do you take me for..?” Matt said dramatically, clutching his heart. “I’m Matt, nice to meet you, Troy.” Talking to Troy was easier than he anticipated. He hadn’t really socialized, so it was nice to get his humor back. And it didn’t feel awkward, conversation just sort of flowed. It was easy and fun.
“I take you for an absolute loser, but y’know.” Troy began, taking a hit off his vape before passing it to Matt. “Here, you smell of cigs so I’m assuming ya smoke.”
“Oh no, I just have a cologne that mimics cigarettes.” Matt hums and slowly grabs it from him, taking a hit. He’d never been one to vape… his parents were conservative. Stickin’ to the cigarettes and coke. His father especially, god he hated his father.
“Flavor?” Matt questions, he wasn’t really able to place it. It seemed unique, in a weird sense.. It tasted just like he would think Troy’s hair would taste. You don’t get it do you? Shut up.
“Mhmm, blue razz ice. Nothin’ special.” Troy grabs the vape back from Matt after a moment or so, sliding it back in his sleeve. “I see… hm, what class are you supposed to be in?” Matt murmurs, moving to wash his hands. “English. ‘Ts a bitch.” Yeah, he could- COULDN’T say that again.
If there was anything Matt tolerated in school, it was english. Words, poems, books, they felt him. They understood him like no human could. Okay okay, he was a suckup. And the teachers favourite, but so what? Matt loved reading, not so much writing, and music. He could listen to music all day, read stupid articles about what each song meant. You can’t blame him right? It’s his calling. Gives him an escape from his father and his own grief.
“Yer a liar. A complete liar.” Matt said after a few moments. He was half joking, half serious. How could anyone hate english…maybe he just needed to learn perspectives.
“I am not. Shut up. Unless it’s art then it’s complete bullshit. Like your dumbass glasses.” Troy snickered before continuing, “Anyway Mattie-boy, I gotta go. I know a bathroom hookup sounds fun, but I’ve already got a few reservations.” He snorted. Did he really think he was that funny…?? Whatever.
“Awh, is it Jax?” He retorted, actually washing his hands this time and dipping. He moved out into the hallways, it was empty now. Everyone should be in class. But Matt has other plans. Leaving! So, he makes his way to the emptier part of the school, and leaves. He had been using this route since freshman year. It’s these doors that were in the older part of the school. Staff never usually hung ‘round. And the cameras barely passed them. He’d gotten caught a few times..but that only happened when he had a friend or two with him. If you couldn’t guess, he didn’t have much of those right now. His fault…yes. But still!
—
Matt made his way out to his (unfortunate) house, kicking rocks along the way. He only lived like a mile away, so he could make the walk in around 20 minutes. He was hoping his dad wasn’t home.. But ya never know. Could be at work like he should be, or he could be snorting a few lines at a friends. Both of those were better than him being home though. When Matt finally reached his house, he immediately felt a pit in his stomach. There was his fathers car in the gravel driveway, and a red car behind it. Damn it. Either a hooker or a lousy ass friend of his. He considered turning away, to go back to the school…but he needed to smoke. Bad. But still, it wasn’t enough to persuade him just yet. But.. Matt would like to snoop, see who's at the house when his father should be working.
Matt makes his way inside and pauses at the doorway to the living room. There was his father, beers slung ‘round him and lines of coke on the table in front of him. He had a guy beside him. Matt didn’t really..recognise him, but he never usually did recognise his fathers ‘friends’. His father glanced up upon hearing him, and visibly angered at the sight of Matt. “Boy, why the hell ain't you in school?”
“Was a half day today, no sweat Dad.” Matt mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. Okay he lied, who wouldn’t? He’d get his ass beat if he told the truth. Plus..his father was high anyways, he wouldn’t remember shit in the morning. Matt began to make his way to his room, but his father called out.
“Hey now, you little shit. Greet my friend here. This is that boy Jax’s father. Gale.” For fucks sake. Why is his father even involved with Jax’s dad? Matt knew a thing or two about Jax and his shitty family.
“Nice to meet you. Gale.” Matt grumbles, his voice tight and calculated. God he hated that fucker. When he and Jax were friends, Jax would tell him about his dad. But that was before Jax became this huge asshole, just like his father. “Mhmm, right.” Gale muttered, too busy snorting his lines to give a shit about what Matt nor Matt’s dad, Calvin, had to say. When Matt’s dad pointed his finger to Matt’s door, he knew he was finally let off. He quickly hurried into his room, shutting the door with a groan. He locked it too of course, it was a habit now.
He immediately latched onto his cigarettes, leaning out his window as he smoked. Today was…uneventful yet so eventful at the same time. Like, he met Troy, but he couldn’t tell if it was a joking banter for Troy or a serious one. It’s honestly refreshing in a way. Nobody usually throws it back at him, but Troy does. He can handle it. It made Matt want more, more socialization and less isolation. Maybe tonight he wouldn’t visit that stupid bridge. Wouldn’t hang off of it. Matt felt like the cage, and the bird was still missing…but it was close by. A presence. The bird had flown away when his mother and sister died. Being just a cage, a shell of a human without a soul ignited was difficult. He didn’t know his purpose. He knew it wasn't just to sit around doing drugs like his father, though. But what could it possibly be? Death? I mean that’s everyone's future. Something…more. There had to be something more.
That night, Matt inevitably snuck out and off to the bridge. He did say he wasn’t gonna go, but it’d be nice to just sit and think. He won’t hang off the edge, don’t worry. He slowly settles to lean over the edge instead, still standing incase a gust off wind wants to knock his scrawny ass over. He doesn’t smoke, doesn’t fidget. He just lives in the moment. That’s when that recurring memory hits him. Harder than he’d like.
—
“Matt, get yer ass over here!” His Mom called out, as Matt played around with the sticks they gathered for their fire. They were camping, but like…the poor version. No fancy RV, no fancy camping gear that ensures their warmth and protection. Rough nature, scraped knees, cigarettes cluttering the ground.. It might not be preferred, but it was familiar. “Yes ma’am!” He calls out, quickly collecting them back in his arms and carrying them over to the actual fire pit, and dropping them in with the other clutter.
His sister, Clem, (Clementine was her real name) is standing by his mom. She was still so young, 6 years old. Matt was 10, soon 11! This was…a faint memory. He remembered his mom bringing him into her arms, remembering how the fire glowed. But he also remembered the bad stuff. Like how angry his father got when he couldn’t get the damn tent up and had a fit. And how his mother had to bring Matt and Clem into the forest, away from their dad. When his dad got to a certain point, he got violent. His mom… always shielded her kids from that. She wanted something better, even though she was an addict herself. Sometimes she had her episodes too. But it always ended with Matt in her arms, safe and loved.
His father was not a man enough to do that though. Too apologise and admit fault. So after his tantrum, he pretends nothing happened. He acted all shocked when they came back from the forest, crying and shaking. And blamed his wife. Why take the blame when you can direct it? Everyone was scared of him. He had a bigger advantage than Matt’s mom. Maybe that's why Matt couldn’t stand his father, and definitely can’t sit for him either.
Then came the worst flashbacks, small, but harsh. His mothers eyes, lifeless after the car crash. Lifeless as she was put into the ambulance. His sister’s body, visibly crushed. Blood on her shoes and all over her face. It was like seeing a bug squished. Innocent, didn’t do anything, but still punished. Punished for the sins she had no part in. Wasn’t her fault that her clothes stank, her hair was unbrushed or that the shoes she had on were too small. But the kids at school still bullied her, still penalized her. Assholes. Maybe they would have thought of the fact it was neglect! That Matt had to take care of her 90% of the time! Or that she didn’t bathe so his father would keep his fat fucking fingers off her. Matt wishes he could still care for her, even though he used to complain about it back then, he’d do anything to do it now.
—-
Slowly, Matt backed away from the ledge and onto the sidewalk again. He felt angry, a pit in his stomach as his mind wouldn’t stop torturing him with the past of his mistakes. The mistake of not staying by Clems side at night. The mistake of letting her sit upfront. He should’ve done more, damnit! Why did he have to live and she had to go?! It was nights like these that were most dangerous. Matt can’t just put on a stupid smile and smoke a cigarette and it’ll go away. No. Clem’s face will always stay in the back of his mind. And his mother’s in the front. What he would do for a hug from his mother. Instead, now, he’s met with the fists of his father. Met with the smell of drugs and hookups in his own goddamn home.
As Matt walked home, he thought of one thing. Talk to Troy tomorrow. For some reason, he felt happier by just that one interaction, and hopefully he can replicate that tomorrow. But that pit stays in his stomach, hopefully, Troy will want to talk to him. Once home, he snuck back in, only to be found by his batshit crazy father waiting on his bed. Internally, hes screaming right now. The locked door…did he not lock his door?! Okay okay, hes panicking. Like actually panicking right now. His father isn’t sober and has all his fucking rings on. Usually, when Matt gets his ass handed too him, his father keeps the rings off. But clearly, he isn’t even thinking of that.
“W..Why’re you in my room huh?” Matt whispers, setting his feet heavy on the floor. He glared at his father, but it was a mix of fear and uncertainty. Disgust too. “The one time I didn’t lock my door you wanna barge in here, drunk, high or whatever the hell you are?” He felt his hands shaking. Purely from fear. His father was giving him those crazy manic eyes. The ones he always gets before a long night.
“You don’t seem drunk. So I assume it wasn’t a party.” His father slurs, but it was a slight slur. He wasn’t shitfaced. “But you snuck out, boy. Where too? If it’s that damn bridge again…” His father sounded angry, but teasing. Like… he was mocking Matt in a way. “You wanna kill yerself that bad huh? Its written all over your stupid fuckin’ face.” He laughs, but it was empty and cruel. Making Matt’s eyes water in anger and hurt. His chest felt tight. His father was standing up. Both of them had their fists clenched.
“Fuck off, you don’t know shit about where I was!” Matt yells, moving back. After awhile of the beatings, his voice grew louder. He used it before he couldn’t. Before he was choking on his own blood. He tried to move away to his door, but his father was faster. Angrier. Matt knew talking back made things worse, but he did it while he could. “I oughta cut yer damn tongue out, boy.” His father grunted, grabbing Matt by his shirt and throwing him onto the floor with carelessness.
Matt landed with a thud, the wind momentarily knocked out of him. This was always how it started. Always. Tears, begging, and shouting is how that night went. When Matt’s dad was done with him, he tossed him aside and left. Hopefully, that blew off some steam right? Helped whatever he was going through. Matt dragged himself to the bathroom, half conscious. He wasn’t crying anymore though. Not anymore. He took one look and froze. For some reason, each time after he got beat he didn’t see himself. He saw a 6 year old boy who was sobbing into his moms arms after the first time his father got drunk and hit him. Matt had a black eye and a busted lip, and he was sure he had bruises in other places too. Usually on his stomach, but that was coverable. His face…was not. He didn’t use makeup anymore though. Teenagers get into fights all the time, so he used that excuse a lot. Nobody except his English teacher noticed. She would ask, he would excuse, but she would always stay cautious. Matt had no clue why though. Like seriously, why does she even care? That was the least of his worries right now.
He cleaned himself up with a raggedy rag, which already had blood stains on it. After that, he tried to get some sleep, but it was a night filled with paranoia and pain. His body ached, and his mind wouldn’t stop replaying his mom’s eyes. Just her eyes. He let himself cry that night, too. He deserved it this time. Sometimes, he knows he doesn’t deserve to cry, but he knows he can this time.
In the morning, he’s heavy and exhausted. He makes it too school somehow. Some way some how. He didn’t look his best today…(never usually does) but his hair is a lot messier and he’s got a big fucking bruise on his eye. Midway through the day, he spots Troy! Finally, he’s been wanting a conversation. Right when Matt got close, he paused. Troy looked at him with…annoyance? Maybe? Or like…indifference. Like he didn’t even know Matt’s name! “Hey, Troy…” Matt begins, but Troy cut him off. “The hell happened?”
Oh, right. That. His black eye…that he didn’t have the day before.