Chapter Text
Matt wasn’t big on parties—never had been, probably never would be. But Chris had somehow managed to drag him out of the house for once, which felt like a damn miracle. Matt wasn’t into the whole influencer scene, and he made that crystal clear every chance he got. According to him, he was awkward, didn’t fit in, and had zero interest in forcing small talk with people who only cared about clout.
But this time Chris had won. He and Nick had convinced Matt to tag along to some big event, and surprisingly, it hadn’t even been that hard. Most of the people there were familiar faces, people they actually liked and trusted, so the usual social anxiety excuse didn’t hold up as much.
Still, it was Matt. And Matt was doing exactly what Chris should’ve expected.
While Chris was lost in the music, moving like he didn’t have a care in the world, and Nick was at a table talking everyone’s ear off, Matt was—well, being Matt . Sitting alone in the corner, looking around like he was mentally calculating the fastest exit route. Every few minutes, his hand would dip into his pocket, pulling out his phone like it would rescue him, his thumb aimlessly scrolling, probably refreshing the same three apps just to look busy.
Chris watched as a girl walked up to Matt, all confidence and flirty energy. He didn’t hear what she said, but it wasn’t hard to guess—probably asking him to dance. Matt barely looked up before shaking his head, shooting her down in the most polite yet brutally final way possible. The girl lingered for a second, then sighed and walked off.
Chris smirked. Typical Matt.
But Matt wasn’t gonna reject him .
Without a second thought, Chris made his way over, weaving through the crowd with that same cocky grin still on his face.
Chris didn’t even hesitate—he snatched Matt’s phone right out of his hands in one quick motion. Matt had been playing some random game, probably just to avoid making eye contact with anyone. Chris raised an eyebrow, glancing at the screen before letting out a loud laugh.
“Dude!” Matt protested, immediately reaching for it.
Chris held the phone just out of reach, waving it around like a prize. “We’re at a party , Matt. What the hell are you doing playing this shit?”
“Giving myself something to do.” Matt muttered, still trying to grab it back.
Chris dodged him easily, grinning. “Nah, you’re being lame.”
“I’m going home.”
“No, you can’t ,” Chris said dramatically, slapping a fake pout on his face like he was actually heartbroken.
Matt shot him a look, eyes narrowing. “Are you drunk?”
Chris smirked. “Yeah. And maybe kinda high.”
Matt sighed, throwing his hands in the air. “ Great .”
Chris finally held out Matt’s phone, dangling it just out of reach for a second before handing it back to him with a playful smirk.
“There. You can have your safety toy back.” Chris said, still grinning.
But before Matt could grab it, Chris extended his other hand towards him, his smile turning a little more mischievous. “But hey, in return… dance with me.”
Matt looked at Chris like he’d just asked him to swim with sharks. “ What? No way.” He shook his head, his usual dismissive tone in full force. “I don’t dance.”
Chris didn’t back down. “Come on, Matt. You’re not gonna stand here all night like a statue.” He nudged him with his elbow, teasing. “Besides, I’m not gonna let you off that easy. You owe me after all the times I’ve dragged you out of your little cave.”
Matt gave him a skeptical look, eyeing the crowded dance floor with a hint of hesitation. “You really want me to?”
“Yeah.” Chris said, his voice softer but still playful. “It’s not like I’m asking for a full on dance battle. Just move with me for a minute. Trust me, it’ll be worth it. Enjoy yourself.”
There was a long pause, and Chris could see Matt weighing the options, clearly not thrilled with the idea but secretly considering it.
Finally, Matt let out a resigned sigh, rolling his eyes but cracking a small smile. “Fine. But don’t blame me if I step on your feet.”
Chris grinned wide and pulled him onto the dance floor.
Matt’s dancing could barely be called that. He was basically just swaying in place like he was trying to avoid any actual movement. Meanwhile, Chris was all over the place, busting out the goofiest moves he could think of, practically dancing circles around him. Matt couldn’t help himself—he’d start laughing, a quiet giggle slipping out every time Chris pulled some ridiculous stunt. But Chris could see the tension behind Matt’s smile. His eyes kept darting around the room, checking to see if anyone was watching him.
But no one was. No one gave a damn at a party like this.
So, Chris made his move. He grabbed Matt’s hands, pulling him into the rhythm, gently guiding him along with his wild, carefree energy. And that’s when something clicked—Matt started to loosen up, just a little at first, but it was enough. The usual guarded expression faded, and soon enough, he was grinning.
Chris could see that familiar, subtle gesture—the way Matt would bite his lower lip after licking it, a move he probably didn’t even realize he did. It was like a small victory for Chris, seeing his brother finally let go a bit. He felt a rush of satisfaction.
But that wasn’t enough for Chris. It wasn’t nearly chaotic enough. It needed to be messier, more euphoric, like the night was alive. So he pulled away for a second, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a little brownish pill, flashing it in front of Matt’s face with a grin.
“Wanna have some real fun?” Chris asked, the smirk never leaving his lips as he offered it to Matt.
Chris was already high, feeling that rush of freedom that came with it—everything felt lighter, more fun, like the world was a playground. But, of course, that didn’t stop him from popping another pill anyway. He wasn’t about to slow down now.
To his surprise, Matt didn’t hesitate. He just opened his mouth slightly, tongue out, accepting the pill without so much as a second thought. Chris raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, just passing him a glass of whatever booze he’d grabbed earlier.
Matt took it without a word, and Chris watched, intrigued, as his brother’s face twisted when the alcohol hit his throat. He squinted his eyes, a sharp wince crossing his face as the burn kicked in. But he didn’t cough or complain—just swallowed it, like he was trying to push past the discomfort.
Chris grinned, knowing that soon enough, Matt would be on the same wavelength. The vibe would shift, and the night would get a hell of a lot more interesting.
Chris could see it in Matt’s face almost immediately—the shift, the moment the euphoria of the drug kicked in. It was like watching him slowly unravel from the tension he usually carried. The rigidness in his shoulders softened, the tightness in his expression melted away, and he let out a slow breath, his body relaxing as the paranoia that usually lurked behind his eyes vanished.
Chris couldn’t help it—he burst out laughing. Matt was moving more freely now, his movements slow but fluid, almost graceful, like he was finally letting the music take control. It was that kind of dance where someone’s not following the beat but feeling their own rhythm, disconnected from everyone else around them. Chris just stood there, mesmerized, watching his brother, his eyes locked on the way Matt moved with such ease.
The lights above them shifted, flashing in waves, and for a split second, Chris swore he was looking at a completely different version of Matt. His body—it was delicious , the way it flowed under the lights, the way his movements were hypnotic in their own right. Seeing Matt this way, off guard, feeling so free —it was the best thing Chris had ever witnessed.
Sure, they’d always been sober before, but now? It didn’t matter. They were here, in the moment, and Chris felt like everything else was just background noise. It was a mess, pure chaos, but it was beautiful chaos. He felt suspended, like time had stopped, like the world was holding its breath while everything else spun out of control.
And that’s when they showed up.
"Guys!" Thiara screamed, practically bouncing with excitement as she and Stephanie approached. Chris could already tell they were looking for a hookup, the way their eyes glinted. He had already hooked up with Thiara once—didn’t remember much of it, but it happened. Stephanie, though, she was all for Matt.
"Wanna go somewhere more private?" Thiara asked, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.
Chris glanced at Matt, who was now draping his arm around Chris’ neck, his body leaning into him as he reached for a beer. Matt let out a little giggle, his voice soft but with a hint of something else.
"Yeah, why not?" Matt answered, almost nonchalantly, like he wasn’t even aware of how different he seemed now.
Chris didn’t think much of it—he was kinda frozen, caught up in the moment, caught up in the energy of the night. Without a word, he followed them, the three of them heading up the stairs to an empty room.
As Chris walked, his thoughts tangled in the fog of his high, a familiar truth clawed its way to the surface—one he usually shoved so deep inside himself that it barely felt real anymore.
He had sworn, sworn to himself, that he would never act on his feelings.
It was a quiet promise, made so long ago he couldn’t even remember the first time he realized it needed to be made. He had always been fine with loving Matt in silence. It was just how things were . A constant, buried part of him, settled in the spaces between them like background noise. It didn’t matter how much it ached sometimes—he could handle it. He had handled it.
But now? Now, he wasn’t so sure.
The sight of Matt, loose and uninhibited, giggling against his shoulder like he didn’t have a care in the world, was unraveling something inside him. Chris had seen him with walls up his whole life—watched him guarded, reserved, careful. And now, under the haze of drugs and alcohol, Matt had let go. He was open . Vulnerable in a way Chris had never seen before. And fuck, it was beautiful.
Then came the part Chris hadn’t prepared for.
Seeing Matt with someone else.
Sure, it wasn’t the first time. Matt had been with people before. Chris had watched, had forced himself to be okay with it. But this was different. This time, Matt wasn’t stiff and awkward, overthinking every move. This time, he was fluid, effortless, his body moving in sync with the night, with the music, with the pulse of everything around him.
Chris felt something in his chest twist, sharp and hot and suffocating.
He wasn’t sure he could manage this.
And yet, his body was still moving, following the others up the stairs like it had a mind of its own. Like some part of him was determined to keep going, no matter how much it burned.
As they reached the room, Thiara pushed the door shut behind them, giggling as she flopped onto the couch, her laugh echoing under the dim red led lights that bathed the space in a hazy glow. The whole place felt surreal—like a scene out of some fever dream, the kind that didn’t feel real even while you were living it.
A low table in the middle of the room was littered with half empty bottles, shot glasses, and the unmistakable stink of spilled liquor. Stephanie, ever the instigator, turned the lock on the door before reaching for Matt’s hand, tugging him towards the center of the room.
Chris just stood there for a second, watching Matt as he grabbed another beer. Yeah . He needed to be more drunk for this.
Not that he even knew what this was.
His head was spinning, thoughts slipping through his fingers like sand. The drugs were making everything feel heavier and lighter at the same time, like he was floating just above his own body, barely tethered to reality.
Thiara, sitting next to him now, pulled him back with a casual, almost lazy question. “So… have you guys done this before?”
Chris barely registered her words at first, his gaze still locked onto Matt. Matt, who had settled onto the couch next to his, a beer in one hand while Stephanie swayed in front of him, moving to music that wasn’t even playing.
“Done what?” Chris asked, his voice rough, like he had to drag the words out of himself. Everything was a blur—his mind, the room, the weight in his chest. He wasn’t even sure what the hell was happening anymore, or if he had it in him to control whatever came next.
Thiara smirked, biting her lip as she leaned in. “Like… hooked up with the same girl. Or, y’know… at the same time.”
Chris sighed. He’d been asked that question way too many times before. It was nothing new, nothing shocking.
“No.” He muttered, taking a long sip of his beer, hoping the alcohol would do something to ground him. “What? Is that what this is?”
Thiara let out a short laugh, like the answer was obvious. “Well. Duh .”
And then she was kissing him.
It was too much—too wet, too messy, the bitterness of alcohol clinging to her lips, seeping into his mouth. If he hadn’t been so out of it, he would’ve pulled away.
But he didn’t.
Because the only thing worse than letting it happen… was acknowledging the real reason why he didn’t want it in the first place.
Chris pulled away, his breath uneven, lips tingling from the unwanted kiss, and for a second, he felt like he was coming up for air—only to drown all over again.
Because when he looked up, there it was.
Stephanie, in Matt’s lap, her hands tangled in his hair, her lips on his. And Matt… Matt wasn’t pushing her away. He wasn’t awkward or stiff, wasn’t overthinking like he usually did. He was relaxed , too relaxed, his hand barely resting on her thigh, fingers ghosting over her skin like it didn’t even matter.
But it did matter.
Chris felt something crack deep in his chest, something raw and ugly that twisted like a knife. The high should’ve dulled it, should’ve made him care less, but all it did was magnify it—make it unbearable. His fingers curled into fists, his whole body tense, the urge to stop this nearly overwhelming. He wanted to grab Stephanie, yank her away, do something , but he just sat there, frozen, suffocating in the realization that he had done this. He had given Matt the happy pills. He had put him in this state.
And now?
Now, he was watching the one thing he never let himself think about too much, never let himself want too much, slip further and further away. Where the fuck was this going?
Thiara leaned in close, her voice sultry and teasing as she asked, “So, you guys wanna party ?”
Matt blinked, still hazy but curious, his head tilting slightly as he looked at her. “What do you mean?”
But even as he asked, his eyes flickered to Chris, that silent conversation passing between them, that twin telepathy that had always been there. What the fuck is she saying?
Thiara smirked, like the answer was obvious. “Like… hook up. Together. ” She dragged out the last word, letting it sink in before nodding towards Stephanie, who was now curling up beside her. “The four of us.”
Chris felt his throat tighten, his whole body locking up as he processed what was happening.
Then Matt looked at him.
It wasn’t hesitation. It wasn’t discomfort. It was a question. Permission. Approval.
Like this was Chris’ call.
And that was the worst part—because Chris didn’t know what to do. His mind was a mess, a cocktail of alcohol and drugs and emotions he had no business feeling. The part of him that wanted to pull Matt away, that wanted to stop all of this, was screaming. But then the part of him that needed to keep it together, that needed to not let his feelings ruin everything, told him to let it happen.
Thankfully, he didn’t have to answer.
Because Thiara and Stephanie were already moving, closing the space between them, kissing, hands exploring, laughter spilling into the dimly lit room like nothing about this was complicated at all.
Chris and Matt looked at each other, and for a second, there was just silence—then they both burst out laughing.
Chris exhaled, trying to shake off the weight pressing against his chest. Maybe… maybe this was his moment to relax . To let go.
He wasn’t going to get hurt.
He wasn’t sober, but that didn’t mean he was going to act on his feelings. He wasn’t.
Stephanie turned to Chris with a wicked little smile, her fingers tracing up his arm before she leaned in, her lips pressing against his. It was slow, intentional, the kind of kiss that was supposed to feel good—meant to drown out the world, meant to make him forget.
But it didn’t .
Because as soon as she kissed him, Chris' mind betrayed him, pulling him somewhere else, making him hyper aware of what was happening just a few feet away.
Thiara was kissing Matt.
And Matt wasn’t stopping her.
Chris’ fingers twitched against his beer can, gripping it too hard like it was the only thing keeping him restrained. He felt like he was outside of himself, watching everything unfold in slow motion. The way Matt’s hands hovered for a second before finally landing on Thiara’s waist, the way she pressed closer, like she was pulling him under.
Chris knew he had no right to feel like this.
No right to feel like his insides were twisting into something ugly and unrecognizable. No right to feel like he wanted to rip Matt away from her, like he wanted to undo everything.
This was what Matt was supposed to do.
This was what Chris had pushed him into.
He should be happy— wasn’t that the point? To make Matt loosen up, to let him have fun for once?
And yet. It didn’t feel like fun. It felt like losing.
Stephanie deepened the kiss, her hands sliding into his hair, but Chris barely registered it. His eyes were still open, still glued to Matt, his brother, his best friend, his everything —watching as Matt kissed someone that wasn’t him .
His chest ached in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol or the pills.
He needed to stop thinking. So he closed his eyes, forced himself to kiss Stephanie back, tried to pretend . Because that’s what he had always done, right?
Pretend it didn’t hurt. Pretend he was fine. Pretend he wasn’t in love with his own brother.
Thiara suddenly jumped up, her eyes wild with excitement, her voice slicing through the heavy, suffocating air.
“ Now you two! ” She screamed, pointing directly at Chris and Matt, her grin wide, her whole body practically vibrating with anticipation.
Chris’ breath caught in his throat.
His stomach dropped.
His heart stopped.
For a second, he swore time itself fractured—everything blurred at the edges, his pulse roaring in his ears like a fucking storm. His grip on reality felt paper thin, slipping between his fingers, and all he could do was stare at Thiara, unblinking, like she had just suggested something impossible. Something forbidden .
His lips parted, but nothing came out.
Then, finally—barely audible, barely even there—he shook his head and whispered, “No.”
Thiara pouted, dragging out a whiny, exaggerated sigh. “Aww, you guys are no fun .”
Chris barely heard her.
Because Matt… Matt was smiling .
Not awkward. Not uncomfortable. Just—smiling. Like it was funny. Like it was nothing .
Then he stood up, slow and deliberate, and walked towards Chris.
Chris froze.
Matt’s eyes locked onto his, something unreadable swimming in them, something Chris was too far gone to decipher. And before he could move, before he could even breathe, Matt leaned in and pressed the softest peck to his lips.
Chris' whole body went rigid.
His eyes fluttered shut on instinct, his breath hitching. Was he dreaming? Was this the drugs? Was this some kind of fucked up fever dream where all his worst desires surfaced just to torment him?
By the time he opened his eyes, Matt had already pulled away, smirking as he let out a small, almost teasing sigh, shrugging his shoulders like it was nothing .
“Oh, come on .” Stephanie whined, clapping her hands together like a drunk cheerleader. “That’s nothing .”
Thiara burst into laughter, jumping in place like this was the best party trick she’d ever seen.
Chris shook his head, snapping himself out of whatever trance he had just fallen into, ready to step back, to laugh it off, to do anything to make this moment disappear.
But then, before he could move, before he could think, before he could do a single fucking thing.
Matt’s hands were on him.
Gripping his neck.
Holding his face.
And then—Matt kissed him.
Really kissed him.
Chris’ whole world shattered.
It wasn’t quick. It wasn’t innocent. It was deep, slow, deliberate . Chris felt the heat of Matt’s palms pressing into his skin, the way his fingers curled just slightly, grounding him, like he wanted to feel him. He felt Matt’s lips moving against his, soft but firm, coaxing him, pushing further. His tongue—fuck, his tongue —brushed against his, tasting like beer and something inherently Matt , something Chris had only imagined in his worst, most secret moments.
Chris didn’t react. He couldn’t .
His brain was static, his limbs useless, his body so high it felt like he wasn’t even inside it anymore. All he felt was the rush, the heady warmth flooding his stomach, spreading through his veins like fire.
Matt tilted his head, deepening it, sucking lightly on his bottom lip before slipping his tongue in again, slow, teasing, like he had done this before —like this was something they did .
Chris’ stomach flipped, twisted, imploded .
The girls were still laughing, still cheering in the background like this was some kind of fucked up game.
But Chris was falling apart. He wanted more .
There was something in Matt’s eyes as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand, his smirk still lingering, but softer now—more unreadable.
Chris held his gaze, barely breathing, his head spinning, his pulse hammering against his skull like it was trying to break free.
Matt didn’t look away.
Didn’t break eye contact.
Didn’t laugh it off like Chris had expected him to.
Instead, he just stared, his chest rising and falling steadily, his lips still wet from the kiss.
Then, without a word, he turned and walked away.
Chris’ whole body screamed at him to move .
To stand up.
To grab Matt by the wrist, pull him back, throw him onto the bed that was in the middle of the room and keep going —kiss him like he actually meant it, like the way he had always wanted to, not in front of an audience, not for show, but for real .
But he didn’t.
He couldn’t .
Because this was a game to Matt.
A night out.
A joke.
Just something to laugh about in the morning, something to shove into the pile of all the other reckless, meaningless things they did as they got too high, too drunk, too lost in the chaos of the moment.
The girls were still giggling, still hyping them up, completely unaware of the war inside Chris' head.
And Matt—Matt was already reaching for another drink, already moving on, already fine .
But Chris wasn’t fine.
Chris was desperate . He clenched his jaw, gripping the couch beneath him so hard his knuckles turned white, trying to ground himself, trying to stop the overwhelming ache in his chest from swallowing him whole.
Because if he let himself feel it— really feel it—he knew it would ruin him.
Next thing was a mess—a tangled heap of limbs and heat, bodies moving against each other under the thick haze of alcohol and bad decisions. The red lights painted everything in a surreal glow, shadows stretching and swaying, distorting reality, making it feel like none of this was actually happening. The bed was too tiny for the four of them.
Chris was supposed to be kissing Thiara, supposed to be lost in her touch, her lips, the way her hands cradled his face like she was trying to ground him, but it wasn’t working. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t feel anything but the pounding of his own heart, the way his breath kept catching in his throat as his gaze flickered—no, gravitated —back to Matt.
Matt, sprawled out on the bed, head tilted just slightly as Stephanie kissed him, her hands threading through his hair, tugging, teasing, taking, and Matt just let her. Kissed her back slow, lazy, indifferent, like he was barely even there , like he was floating through the moment, detached, unaffected. And God , he looked so fucking good doing it. His sharp jawline, the perfect slope of his nose, the way his lips moved like he had all the time in the world—it was hypnotizing.
Chris felt something tighten in his chest, something ugly and unbearable, something he couldn’t name but had felt a thousand times before. He regretted this. He regretted the whole fucking night, the drugs, the alcohol, the stupid, reckless decisions that led him to this moment where he was supposed to be with Thiara , supposed to be part of whatever the hell this was, but all he could do was stare at Matt, watch him move, watch him kiss someone else, and realize with stomach churning certainty that he wanted him. Just him. Had always wanted him. And it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that Matt could just exist, could just be there , completely unaware of the way he wrecked Chris without even trying. Chris felt himself getting lost, not in Thiara, not in the moment, but in Matt , and the worst part? He couldn’t stop it.
And then, just like that, he felt it.
A touch that didn’t belong to Thiara. A warmth that sent a shock through his entire body, a slow, deliberate movement that had nothing to do with the chaotic mess they’d gotten themselves into. The girls were too lost, too tangled up in their own drunken haze to notice, too busy laughing and kissing and pulling at each other’s clothes to see what was happening right there , right between him and Matt.
Matt’s hand was on Chris’ waistband, fingers brushing the fabric, barely ghosting over his skin before slipping lower, teasing, testing. Chris’ breath hitched, a sharp inhale he couldn’t control, his whole body going rigid as his head snapped to the side, eyes locking with Matt’s.
And Matt— Matt fucking stared at him .
Dark eyes, pupils blown, his expression unreadable but focused , like this wasn’t just another mindless high, like he meant it. His fingers moved slowly, barely applying pressure at first, just the faintest graze that had Chris’ stomach twisting, his pulse hammering in his throat.
Matt’s hands reached down and grabbed Chris’ cock. His hand was warm, steady, moving in lazy, unhurried strokes, like he was testing Chris, seeing how far he could take it, how much he could push before Chris lost it completely.
Chris’ head fell back slightly, his lips parting, but no sound came out. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t fucking process what was happening. It was slow—so fucking slow—and Matt wasn’t looking away, wasn’t breaking eye contact, wasn’t laughing like this was some kind of joke. It felt different. It felt deliberate. It felt like Chris was unraveling at the seams, completely at Matt’s mercy, completely gone in the way Matt’s hand worked him over, never rushing, never hesitating, just taking his time, just watching.
Chris’ head tipped back, his vision hazy with the red glow of the room, and for a split second, he swore he wasn’t even there—like his body had been yanked out of reality and thrown into something that was not real. His back arched slightly, instinctively, a slow tremor rolling through him as Matt’s movements grew bolder, more sure, like he had been holding back before and decided: fuck it.
The rush of it hit Chris like a punch to the gut, a mix of heat and confusion and feelings that made his chest tight and his breath stutter. His teeth sank into the inside of his mouth, hard enough to ground himself, to keep himself from making a sound—because what the fuck was happening? His brother’s hand was still on him, still moving, still doing this, like it was nothing, like they weren’t breaking a boundary. Chris squeezed his eyes shut, tried to focus on anything else—the distant music, the laughter, the way Thiara was still pressed against him, unaware—but nothing fucking worked. All he could feel, all he could think, was Matt. Matt’s touch. Matt’s grip. Matt’s fucking intentions. And worst of all, how much Chris didn’t want him to stop.
The room around them blurred. The girls’ giggles and muffled moans faded into background noise.
But for Chris there was only this .
Only Matt . Only his touch, and the fear of how this would end up.