|What a Lovely Scarf, Seth
Author: xPrettyXxRadx PM
Slash. I swear, this boy’s the definition of calm and collected. I doubt he even knows how to be angry. Even when he found out his boyfriend was cheating on him, he was all suave and cool about it. Seriously? Hell! Nana would love him...Oh...Nana...Rated: Fiction T - English - Humor/Hurt/Comfort - Chapters: 10 - Words: 48,930 - Reviews: 271 - Favs: 289 - Follows: 80 - Updated: 10-30-09 - Published: 07-07-09 - Status: Complete - id: 2693989
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Woot! Matt and Seth's story!! Yay! I'm excited!
Now for some background information: This is a side story of WAC/POC, but you don't need to read those stories to know much about what's happening here. The main characters from those don't even appear in this one. It's pre-WAC, so if you have read that story of mine, it's Junior year instead of Senior. It's set in the beginning of March, and this is the first time I've ever written using the present tense for the whole story. I've outline this to be about ten chapters long, and most of it will be told in Matt's P.O.V., but there will be a few in Seth's. There isn't really an indept plot line, either; it's just a story about how Matt and Seth actually got together. It's funny in some parts, but then quite sad in others. I've spent a while working on this, so I really hope you enjoy it.
Now, my lovelies, I give you...
What a Lovely Scarf, Seth
It's raining; it's pouring. The old man is snoring. Someone should get him a nasal strip, and if that person happens to be deliciously sexy, then he should strip.
Like… take it off.
Take it all off.
And I know just the song to do that to.
"…Let's have some fun, this beat is sick. I wanna take a ride on your disco-stick…"
Hehehe. Lady Gaga, you're so dirty! I love you. Thanks for existing.
"…Don't think too much, just bust that kick. I wanna take a ride on your disco-stick…"
"Not now, Mom! I'm dancing!"
"How do you think your father would feel if he knew you were using his car as a stripper's pole?"
"I don't know. How 'bout you call him out here so we can find out?"
"Mom! I'm dancing!"
"…I'm on a mission. And it involves some heavy touching, yeah…"
"Those lyrics are a little risqué, don't you think?"
I nod, but keep on grinding and twisting against Dad's Toyota. "Yes, I do think so. Aren't they lovely?"
"…You've indicated your interest. I'm educated in sex, yes. And now I want it bad, want it b—"
I stop dancing and look at Mom with an affronted expression when I see that she unplugged my iPod from her car stereo. She gives me an annoyed look back and shoves my iPod into my hands, her high heals clicking on the garage floor as she stalks back to her car. I grimace. Mom's in a bad mood. Greaaaaat.
"C'mon," she says, getting into her car. "You're going to be late."
"Oh, dear," I mutter sarcastically. "Wouldn't want to do that on my first day, would I?"
"Get in the car, Matthew," Mom hisses through clenched teeth. I narrow my eyes at her for calling me by my full name, but do what she says anyway, because really, Mommy is not pretty when she's angry.
I sit down in the passenger's seat with a sigh. If you couldn't already tell, I'm not exactly thrilled to be starting a new school, especially in the middle of March, two and a half weeks before by birthday, while it's raining.
Heh. That last one doesn't make sense, because I love the rain.
I just don't love it when it's making the snow all slushy and yucky and eww.
I start to buckle myself, but stop halfway and look over at Mom. She's tapping her fingernails on the steering wheel impatiently, shooting me irritated looks. I resist the urge I have to roll my eyes. She's so not as intimidating as she thinks.
"Can I go say goodbye to Nana real quick?" I ask her, and then add, "Please?"
Mom's expression changes so quickly that I would've missed it if I blinked. She looks sympathetic and apologetic now, instead of annoyed.
Whoa—holy crap, mood swings!
"Nana's still sleeping, honey," she tells me somewhat sadly.
"Oh." I look away from her and finish buckling myself. "Well, never mind then."
Mom doesn't say anything; she just opens the garage door with the little remote thingy and then starts the car. I finger my iPod and my headphones, trying not to be too emo.
According to my sister, I'm already emo. She tells me so everyday when she wants me to do something for her. Like…
Matt, get your faggot, emo ass off the couch and do the dishes! she says, or something along those lines. And then I usually say, Brooke, you preppy whore, do the stupid dishes yourself. And I'm scene, you fucking bitch! If you're going to be stereotypical, then get your fucking stereotypes right, dumb ho! Then Brooke normally replies with a Fuck you! or a Go suck a cock, asshole! And if it's the latter, I tell her I would love to.
Of course, these conversations are said lovingly. Seriously. Brooke and I get along fine. Just sometimes, we like to jokingly insult each other. It's all in good fun. We love each other. Really, we do.
Yeah, I know you're not buying that. Neither am I.
About five minutes into the ride to school, I look over at Mom wistfully. She glances at me and I see her eyes narrow suspiciously, annoyance etched into every inch of her face.
Mood swings, ahoy!
"What?" she says, not nicely at all.
I smile at her sweetly and bat my eyelashes. "Can I please listen to my music?"
"No," Mom says the moment the words are out of my mouth. "You've already given me a headache, and that screamo crap you listen to is completely ridiculous."
I gasp theatrically, placing a hand over my heart and give her a pained expression. "Ouch, Mom. That hurts."
"So does my headache," she tells me. "And I had enough of inappropriate lyrics."
"Stop insulting my music taste!" I say, slamming my hand down on the door handle thing. "Or I'll start insulting your taste!"
"Matt, please," Mom says in an exasperated, yet still angry tone. "Just stop. I'm not in the mood to deal with it this morning."
"Fine," I huff, irritated. I shove my headphones in my ears and turn my iPod on. As I turn away from her to look out the window, I see her roll her eyes at me and shoot me one last annoyed glance. I make a disgusted face since I know exactly what her problem is now. Well, the other problem besides me, anyway.
I was not late to school, in case you're wondering. In fact, I was early. I could've danced like a slut against my daddy's car for a bit longer. It makes me sad to know that. Damn my mother and her temporary bitchiness for ruining my fun; damn her.
Anyway… right now, I'm dancing down the hallway—not like a slut, thankyouverymuch!—to homeroom. I'm getting strange looks, and I don't know if it's because I'm new, because I'm dancing, or if it's just because I'm so incredibly sexy, but it's most likely the last one. I feel bad for all those giggling girls who are looking at me like I'm a huge chocolate bar.
Sorry ladies, you'll never get a piece of this. Your boobs and vaginas are repulsive to me. Boys and their cocks are more of my thang.
Haha! I just said thang.
Hehehe. I'm so cool!
Giggling to myself because of my epic coolness, I turn into the room that I think is my homeroom and stop dead a few steps in.
You know how there's usually that one person who seems to catch your eye when you're new, and you automatically know you want to be friends with them? (If you don't, just pretend for my sake.) Well, that just happened to me. Like: BAM!HOLYSHIT!SHE'SSOAWESOME!
I stand there, practically in the middle of the doorway, just staring at this chick sitting in the back of the room. She's got short, choppy, light brown hair that is not exactly emo or scene, but it's still completely freaking awesome. She's wearing these tight, white skinny jeans that have paint splatter patterns all over them in nearly blinding neon pink, blue and yellow. Her shirt is bright yellow with bright pink, lime green, and blue stars exploding out of a boom box on it. She's wearing lime green converse and has lime green eye shadow on, too. And even though I'm totally and completely gay, I'm not completely oblivious; I know a pretty girl when I see one, and damn—she's pretty.
Overall, I think the only word to describe her is Awesome—capitalization completely necessary. I want her in a totally nonsexual way.
And I'm in luck. My faghag senses are tingling.
Grinning widely, I bound over, plopping myself down in the empty desk next to her. I see she has one headphone in her ear with her red iPod on her desk, and I lean over to see what she's listening to.
I look up at her to see that she's smirking at me with amused eyes. I smile at her as I sit back down in my chair.
"Hello," I say, then point towards her iPod. "That's a good band."
"Oh, indeed," she says, now grinning. Her eyes then flicker over me for a quick second before she looks back at me. "I like your hair. It's delicious."
"Why thank you!" I tell her as I flip my blue streaked bangs from my face. I smirk at her. "But you're pants are orgasmic."
"Ooooh. You win," awesomely-dressed chick says. "There's nothing that can beat that adjective. It's simply superb."
She grins again and extends her hand to me. I notice that her nails are lime green. It makes me smile, and I take her hand.
"Courtney," she says as we shake.
"Matt," I reply. We stop shaking and just spend a moment staring at each other. After about a minute, she raises an eyebrow at me and I giggle. "So…Courtney. Would you be interested in being my faghag?"
"I'd be honored, Matt," she says.
I grin at her again then move the desk so it's right next to hers. I rest my head on her shoulder and immediately, she's petting my hair like I'm a high-priced, imported from some foreign country, purebred cat. I start purring, making Courtney laugh, and I giggle a bit, too.
I think I'm going to like it here.
Courtney and I have all our morning classes together! Life is good! I love my new faghag and this school! There are so many yummy boys here that I can look at! It all makes me so happy that I feel like dancing, so I will!
I start party-boying around Courtney as we walk down the hall to the cafeteria for lunch. She laughs and begins to do the robot, and I must say, I have never seen anyone do the robot as well as Courtney. She's a natural. I tell her this as we enter the cafeteria.
"Oh, Mattie!" she gushes, and then glomps me. "You're such a sweetheart!"
"I know, I know," I tell her, wrapping my arm around her waist. We look at each other and start giggling.
"Courtney!" someone shouts when we're halfway across the cafeteria.
Courtney stops walking and looks over her shoulder. I look over mine to see a tall, bookish, brunette boy jogging over to us. It doesn't take him long since he has these nice long legs. He's cute, but totally not my type. Besides, it's obvious he's straight as an arrow.
"Hey Peter," Courtney says once book-boy is standing in front of us. He grins at her and she grins back, then nods at me. "This is Matt. Matt, this is Peter, my boyfriend."
I gape at her, and then look over at Peter again.
"What?" they both ask.
"You're shitting me," I say, and Courtney laughs.
"No, I'm not," she tells me. "I like my men smart, quiet, shy, and adorkable."
I look over at Peter to see him blushing and avoiding looking at me. Courtney sees this too, and she goes over and pecks him on the cheek, which only makes Peter blush harder. I can't help but laugh. He definitely fits her description—nerdy and shy, but still completely cute. Like I said, though, he's not my type.
We start walking again, and I don't even need to ask Courtney what table we're heading towards since there's only one that has people dressed like her and me. What can I say? High school is like that. You know, cliques and stereotypes. Yeah, I know. Sucks.
Once we reach the table, I instantly zoom in on the kind of guy I like. Skinny, scene, and sexy. And oooh! I'm in luck! All four of the boys at the table are SSS, but my trusty gaydar is telling me that only three of them are gay. It also looks like two of them are together. Hmm…so that leaves Mister blonde and black hair in the striped hoodie for me.
"Yo," Courtney says. She motions to me with a smile. "This is Matt. He's my new best friend."
"What!?" exclaims the boy closest to my left. He looks like an emo-Mexican; I like it. "Courtney! What about me?"
She bats a hand in his direction. "You're no longer cool enough for me, Carlos. Matt has you beat by, like, infinity."
Carlos looks at her, pouting, his lower lip trembling and his brown eyes wide. He has mastered the wounded puppy dog look; that he has. I feel my heart clench at the sight of him. I plop myself down in the empty chair next to him and pull him into a hug, patting his hair. Carlos sniffles and snuggles into me, but doesn't stop pouting at Courtney. She seems impervious against my—yes, my. I just claimed him—little emo Mexican's puppy dog eyes, though. How, I have no idea. It's sad and cute all wrapped up into one, but she still rolls her eyes at him.
"Suck it up," she tells him. "You know you'll still be my best straight friend."
Oh, and here I was starting to believe that my wittle Carlos was gay and that my gaydar was just on the fritz. Apparently not.
"Yay!" Carlos exclaims, smiling again, but makes no move to remove himself from my embrace. I don't mind it at all.
Courtney smiles at him, then rolls her eyes playfully before she turns her attention back to me. "Alright, Mattie. Ready for the introductions?" she asks as she and Peter sit down.
"I do believe I am," I tell her.
"Okey-dokey," she says and then points at Carlos. "The one getting friendly with your shoulder is Carlos, as you've probably already gathered." She points to the bleach blonde girl sitting next to him. "This is Abby." Abby waves at me, smiling, and I wave back. Courtney then points to the girl sitting next to her. "That's Sydney." Sydney smiles at me, but I can so tell it's fake. I give her an equally fake one back—haha, take that bitch!—then go back to listening to Courtney. "Josh and Seth," she says, motioning to the two that I guessed were together. Josh has his arm around Seth and is grinning, but Seth isn't really paying any attention to Josh. Instead, he's looking at me with an expression that is calm and curious.
"Hello, Matthew," Seth says after a moment. His voice is like…pure coolness. It's one of those voices that probably would be calm even if we were under a nuclear bomb attack. I don't even care that he used my full name; I like it, and I like him, so he's awesome enough to do that.
"Hi," I say back with a smile. The corners of his lips tilt up a little, and it's not quite a smile, but it's good enough for me.
"And finally, this is Aaron," Courtney says, pointing to Mister Skinny, Scene, and Sexy.
"Hey," I say, smiling at him, and if it happened to be flirtatious-looking, that's exactly what I wanted it to be.
"Hi," Aaron says with a grin. And oh, it's so beautiful, I swoon.
Okay, not really. But I would if I could do it without making a fool of myself.
"So, Matt," Abby begins, "where'd you move from?"
"Rhode Island," I tell her.
Carlos sits up and gives me a curious look. "Why'd you move?"
"Um…" I hesitate, looking away from him and everyone else. Why? That's a good question. Too bad the answer isn't. I don't want to tell them, so I say, "Just because, you know? My parents felt like it."
It's a lie and I know it, but everybody nods so it seems they all bought it. Or that's what I think until I catch Seth's eye. Immediately, I can tell that I haven't fooled him at all by the look he's giving me. He doesn't say anything, though, thank God.
Lunch continues with more conversation and questions, and by the end of it, I've seen enough to have formed an opinion about everyone at the table.
Let's start with my newest, bestest friend ever. Courtney is the definition of awesome, which I already knew, but her conversation with Carlos made her even more so.
It went a little something like this:
Randomly, Carlos turned to me with a serious expression and asked, "Can I have you're babies?"
"Of course, dear," I told him, patting his cheek. He beamed at me, then turned to Courtney with a defiant look.
"See? I don't need you," he said. "Matt is going to be my husband instead, and we're going to live in England and have hot, sweaty, passionate sex every night."
Everyone at the table besides Courtney and Carlos started laughing and snickering. Well, Seth didn't, either. He just smirked, but from what I gathered, that seems equivalent to a laugh for him.
"You know what, Carlos?" Courtney asked, then continued without waiting for him to reply. "I don't care. You can suck my cock," she told him with a completely straight face.
"Gladly," Carlos said with an over exaggerated wink. "Library, seventh period?"
Courtney nodded. "Of course."
Yeah. That's how it went. And it made me decide that Carlos is the gayest straight guy I have ever met. I told him so and he said that most people think that, too. Courtney tells him that all the time, apparently. I can see why, since all through lunch, he acted as much like a flamer as I do, and that's saying something. He, along with everyone else, assured me that he is one hundred percent heterosexual, though. Courtney says that once I see him with his girlfriend, I'll understand just how much he loves the female anatomy. Ugh, I rather not. It's still a shame, though. If Carlos was gay, I'd love to have him as my man. But he's not, so oh, well. He can be my pretend-straight-boyfriend, instead. And there's still delicious Aaron waiting for me to seduce him.
Mmm—Aaron. He's sexy and funny! He is such a sweetie, too. He talked to me basically the whole lunch. He doesn't have that great of a taste in music, but I can overlook that because he's just so yummy-yummy. I swoon for him; I really do. His smile is so pretty; I want to wake up to it every morning. He'll be mine if it's the last thing I do!
Now, on to young Peter. He's alright. Doesn't talk much, but I didn't expect him to. He's that quiet, introverted, smarty-pants type, anyway. It amazes me how he ended up with Courtney, though. She's just as smart as him, but otherwise she's his complete opposite. Well, you know what they say! Opposites attract, which I guess is true from the way he looks at her. It so disgusting how he's so completely in love with her that it's actually kind of cute. They make a good couple, I have to admit.
Josh and Seth are another story. They don't look right together, and I don't think they said more than five words to each other all through lunch. Josh's arm stayed around Seth's shoulders the whole entire time, though, and Seth didn't seem to care, so I guess there's something there between them. Somewhere. Deep down. Yeah.
I don't like Josh that much. There's just something about him that seems a bit… fake, to me. It's like he's trying too hard, or something. I asked him if he listened to I Set My Friends On Fire and he didn't ever know who I was talking about. Then, when I asked him what his favorite band was, he hesitated too long before he said Chiodos, which makes me think he just said the first band that came to his mind. I bet he secretly listens to Kanye West when he's alone.
Seth, on the other hand, seems pretty cool. He didn't say much, but I still like him. Maybe it's the way he's so serene and how whenever he did speak, his voice was so calm. I don't know; I just like him. When I talked to him briefly about the music he listens to, he knew what he was talking about, unlike his boyfriend, and we pretty much have the same taste. I like the way he dresses, too. Everything is color-coordinated, right down to his plaid blue and black scarf and his blue gages.
Really, I just can't see why he's with Josh. It makes no sense. Josh is just so…bleh, while Seth is all suave and cool.
Abby is alright, too, but we just don't click, you know? She's nice and I can get along with her if need be, but I just don't think we could be that good of friends. I don't know. She just seems boring.
Sydney is another story. Not only does she look like a snob, but she acts like one, too. Barely fifteen minutes into lunch and she's was being a biatch—yeah, biatch—to Courtney, Peter, Carlos, and me. I don't even know why they put up with her. Oh, wait. That's a lie. Courtney told me why; she's Abby's cousin. Psh! She sure as hell doesn't act like it. I don't think a single thing that came out of her mouth today was nice. It was all rude, bitchily sarcastic remarks or snobbish insults. I really think someone needs to remove the supersized dildo from her ass.
I tell this to Carlos, who I have my next class with, and he completely agrees with me.
My dad picks me up from school and we get home around two-thirty. I immediately head up the stairs to my room, ignoring Brooke and my mom, to drop my bag off in there and to grab my sketchbook. Then, I go down the hall to Nana's room, grinning because I'm just so happy!
The door is open, so I know it's alright for me to just walk in. Nana is in her bed, as usual, being propped up by a few pillows, and I smile at her. She smiles back, her wrinkled face crinkling even more happily, and then she pats the spot next to her. I gladly go over and make myself comfy next to her on the bed.
"How was your first day?" Nana asks, her voice slightly scratchy, probably from coughing a lot today. I don't like it when she coughs a lot.
"It was good," I tell her as I flip my sketchbook open to a blank page. I take a pencil from the binding and start drawing. "My new friends are awesome. And there're so many cute boys to look at."
Nana laughs, but it turns into a rasping cough that shakes her whole body, and she holds a handkerchief up to her mouth. I stop drawing but lock my eyes on my sketch, refusing to look anywhere else. I don't want to know if that handkerchief has any blood on it when she takes it away and folds it up.
"Tell me what happened," she says once she stops coughing and takes a short moment to regain her breath. I start sketching again because it's okay now, and tell her about Courtney, Carlos, Aaron and everyone else. Then, when I'm finished, I ask her how she is.
"Oh…you know. Same as any other day. Chemo's still a bitch," Nana tells me, and I laugh a little, though I don't really find it funny. She points to the left side of my drawing. "That needs to be a bit longer."
I stop drawing to look at it for a moment. "Yeah, you're right," I decide and start erasing and fixing it so it's right.
"Why a scarf?" Nana asks me. I shrug and continue to pencil in the plaid details, putting a bit of shading in the right places.
"I don't know. Scarves are just lovely."