Matthew woke up slowly and comfortably, like he hadn't in a while. He was calm and warm and all seemed right in the world. Did he have a day off? Those were something of a rarity, he should enjoy it.
He became aware of something warm pressed into his side and partly draping over him. Had he brought someone over the night before, perhaps? It had been a long while since he'd last gotten laid and he wondered if he'd had to pay for a good lay last night since he doubted anyone would willingly take him otherwise.
The warm presence at his side squirmed and mumbled something in a voice that sounded entirely too familiar before it finally removed itself from Matthew's space, sitting up on the bed.
Matthew finally deigned to open his eyes, staring at the drab gray ceiling of his room.
Except it wasn't gray and this wasn't his room and he was starting to doubt he'd even gotten laid last night,which was both disappointing and relieving for reasons he did not care to examine right now. Or ever.
No, the ceiling was familiar, an old memory come to life, as was the messy mop of red hair he could make out from the corner of his eye. He turned his head a bit to look at Matt, who was still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes but did notice him looking.
Matt smiled sleepily, "Mornin' Matthew."
Matthew simply stared, mumbling an absent "Morning." as he tried to sit up.
Keyword 'tried', since as soon as his eye-level had been high enough to make out his reflection on multiple surfaces, he immediately dropped back down onto the bed, burying his face into the pillow and groaning.
Matt raised an eyebrow, "Uh, you alright there, buddy?"
"I forgot you had so many mirrors!" it came out muffled but he was relatively sure he'd gotten his message across, seeing as Matt had started giggling like a schoolgirl, the damn bastard.
"Silly, how could you ever forget my precious mirrors?"
Matthew blindly swatted at him, hitting his thigh, before turning his head so his mouth wasn't covered in pillow anymore.
"I didn't really notice them yesterday when I, uh,stormed in. But now, ugh, they're everywhere!"
"Yes, that they are." Matt said with an amused smile, although confusion sparked in his eyes. "Is that... a problem?"
Matthew sighed and turned on the bed to face the ceiling once again, which thankfully didn't sport any mirrors yet (he had gotten that bright idea about three years before Tord and the subsequent war knocked on their doorstep).
"I don't really like mirrors, Matt." and holy shit was it weird to address someone with your own nickname, "Not since... this." he said, gesturing vaguely at his deformed, metal-covered face. The exhaustion, the age, the frown lines on his forehead, but mostly his eye and chin.
"Oh." Matt frowned, chewing on his bottom lip, "Can I ask how that happened?"
Matthew stared at the white ceiling, mulling over his response, "My jaw was practically shattered in an altercation with Red Leader, back when I was still a rebel. With what we had available, fusing it to metal to keep it in place was apparently the only thing they could do. My eye... Edd- ah, Edward got it with a stray bullet during a mission to capture him."
"But doesn't your, uh, Red Army have better resources? Couldn't they make it look... better?"
Matthew laughed bitterly, "For cosmetic changes? No, they don't really care for that kind of thing. If Red Leader can't hide his scarred face and robot arm then neither can we. I guess it's for some sort of feeling of unity, I don't really know or care."
"But then, why don't you like mirrors? I mean I get that you're old and have weird cyborg bits and all, but you're still me and I look amazing." he tilted his head in a display of such genuine confusion that Matthew couldn't help the chuckle that slipped out.
"I'm not though, not anymore, and I've really got nothing to be vain about."
Matt's frown deepened, "Well, that's just not true." he looked off to the side in thought before he started almost vibrating in excitement. "I've got it! Today we're having a beauty day!"
Matthew blinked dumbly at the declaration before he found himself hauled out of bed and dragged towards the door, not even given the slightest chance to catch a single look at a mirror.
"Matt, wha-"
"Every good beauty day starts in the bathroom so we'll lock ourselves up in there for a while! First things first, you dearly need a shower, Matthew!"
Matthew found himself unceremoniously shoved into the bathroom as Matt locked the door behind him. The younger man handed him a towel without preamble and cheerfully gestured to the shower.
Matthew's mind finally caught up him and he blinked, "Uh, look Matt, thank you, really. But you don't have to-"
"I do though! How am I supposed to feel beautiful if my future self doesn't? Now go on, get in there. You really do need a shower, beauty day or not."
Out of viable arguments, Matthew relented and began to undress as Matt brushed his teeth. He hesitated a bit at his turtleneck but sighed and took it off, causing Matt to nearly choke on toothpaste at the sight of the gruesome scar on the left side of his chest.
Well then.
Matt was careful not to show any further reaction as he kept his gaze firmly glued to the bathroom mirror above the sink.
Fully undressed and somehow not uncomfortable at all in the presence of his only mildly judgmental younger self, Matthew stepped into the shower. The warm spray was heaven on his tense muscles and he found himself relaxing under it. He eyed the variety of products available, immediately spotting Matt's. His memory wasn't all that terribly great most of the time, but when it came to his products, he could remember every single one and what they were for, even years after production was discontinued, if only out of disgruntlement.
Flowery and fruity scents combined in a cloud of steam and perfume that should have probably been nauseating but he just found comforting, relaxing him further. Hell, he hadn't used conditioner in so long and massaging it through his hair and into his scalp felt like heaven.
When he finally got out, hair damp and towel around his waist, he felt cleaner and calmer than he had in weeks, stress and worries bled out of his muscles and washed down the drain, at least for the moment. Matt's face lit up and h he practically shoved Matthew out of the way, distractedly calling over his shoulder, "You can use my brush, the hairdryer is in the cabinet and I left out a spare toothbrush on the sink."
Matthew stood there as the sounds of the shower filled the bathroom once again, wondering if he'd really been such a hurricane of cheerful energy fifteen years ago. He felt overwhelmed, like he was being dragged along by a river. Shaking himself out of his stupor, he reached for the toothbrush first.
Matt apparently didn't feel like pampering himself much today since he was out of the shower before Matthew had even touched the hairdryer. Matt clicked his tongue, looking fondly exasperated as he grabbed it and gestured for Matthew to sit down on the toilet.
"I don't really-"
"Sit down, Matthew." Alright, yes, that was definitely exasperation.
He didn't know how he should feel, meekly following his past self around like this but he couldn't bring himself to care all that much with the feeling of slim fingers in his hair and warm air against his scalp. It felt nice, being pampered like this. He could forget the worries about Thomas and Edward and the future for a little while, pretend he had no responsibilities waiting for him, that he wasn't having some sort internal crisis.
He had no idea why Matt was doing this, but he didn't really feel like questioning it much. Let Matt drag him along for a day, it wouldn't do any harm.
"Ah! Peeling, I forgot your peeling!" Matt exclaimed, reaching towards his door of the cabinet and pulling out a tube, which he handed to Matthew. "Use it while I finish up with your hair. And mine."
Matthew shrugged and began to apply it. He wasn't new to this song and dance, just hadn't done it in a while. A few months, maybe years. He wasn't entirely sure. He rubbed circles into his face as Matt finished up with him and went to stand in the mirror to dry his own hair. After he rinsed it off, they finally got out of the bathroom, releasing a cloud of steam into the rest of the house.
Back in Matt's room, he was immediately handed a bundle of clothes, which he put on without questions. Matt must have put his old clothes in the wash. Matthew thus found himself in a soft lavender sweater, light blue jeans and fuzzy purple socks. He felt the most domestic he had in years. And also very, very pastel.
Matt, now back in his customary outfit, was rummaging in his closet for something, which he apparently found after half a minute, lifting up a light green tube in the hair.
"Mask time!"
He looked so elated, almost giddily excited as he turned to grin at Matthew, and for a moment Matthew could pretend he was looking at his own reflection. Achingly young, grinning warmly, face soft and unmarred.
Beautiful.
The moment passed, and Matthew smiled back despite himself.
"Mask time it is." he would have said, if the loud sound of something breaking hadn't suddenly resounded through the house.
Matt and Matthew shared a concerned look and rushed out the door, noting that Edd and Tom were out in the hallway as well and fast approaching the living room.
Standing in the doorway to the kitchen was Thomas, staring dumbly down at the broken remains of a mug resting in a puddle of cooling coffee. His arm was held forward, as if still holding the mug. He wasn't moving or reacting, the way it looked he was barely breathing.
"Thomas?" Matthew called. No reaction. "Tom?" he tried again, ignoring the twitch of the blue-clad man beside him. That did get a reaction, head lifting to look at them.
Thomas remained silent, still staring numbly into nothing.
Matthew frowned and walked towards him, "Hey, you alright?" he asked, louder this time. That got him a pained hiss that seemed to snap Thomas out of it.
"Not so loud." the man complained, rubbing at his temples. He looked down at the broken mess again, "Sorry, I'll clean that up."
But as he started to bend down, he blacked out for a moment. Next thing he knew, he was leaning heavily against something soft and warm.
"-as, Thomas, can you hear me?"
Thomas blinked, "Ah, yeah, sorry."
"Are you alright?" Matthew asked worriedly, still holding him up.
"I'm fine." Thomas muttered, pushing himself off his colleague to stand on his own two feet again.
Mathew's frown deepened, "Are you quite sure? You just fell on me. Did you black out there?"
"I said I'm fine."Thomas growled out. Matthew backed away, hands raised in surrender, and Thomas sighed. "Sorry. I'll just... go get the mop."
He got three steps into the room and why was the floor suddenly so close-
Everything went dark.
AN:
you thoght it would only be fluff? FOOL! THIS IS AN ANGSTFIC and we're only on chapter 8, we can get more toothrotting fluff once me bois have gotten over a few of their issues. also i just realizedthat aside from chapter 1 this entire fic has been people walking in and out of rooms, a bunch of tense silences and the occasional yelling...
HEY ALSO KIND OF IMPORTANT i hate to be that person but i really appreciate your comments, they're literally the only thing that keep me going and writing and if i lose my momentum right now i don't know if ill be able to get the ball rolling again. so id appreciate even just a scream. screams are good.