The silence that settled between them wasn't gentle—it was sharp, brittle, ready to break.
Vinny's eyes flicked to the bruise blooming on Matthew's jaw, his expression a blend of suspicion and hesitation. "You gonna tell me who you fought with or do I get to guess?"
Matthew tilted his head back against the couch, exhaling slow through his nose. His knuckles were still bruised. The scent of disinfectant clung to the air, mingling with the fading trail of Vinny's cologne.
"You're imagining things," Matthew said calmly, too calmly.
Vinny snorted, pacing the length of the apartment like he needed to wear down the tension building in his spine. "Right. Because bruises just magically appear now?"
"Vinny." Matthew's tone shifted—firm, low, warning. "Not now."
The way Matthew said his name made Vinny's skin itch. There was control in his voice, but it was fraying, coiled too tight. Vinny turned to face him fully, his arms crossed, his mouth twitching into that half-smirk he wore like armor. "Did you win?"
Matthew's lip curled into a grin. "What do you think?"
Vinny didn't reply. He stepped closer instead, his eyes never leaving Matthew's face. "Was it Tom?"
Matthew's expression didn't change—but his body did. Shoulders, back, jaw—everything locked into place. Still. Silent.
Vinny's smirk faltered.
He took another step forward, close enough now that Matthew could smell the fading scent of cigarette smoke on his hoodie—he hadn't seen Vinny smoke since last year, which meant something was eating at him. "You did, didn't you?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Matthew said, quieter now.
Vinny raised a brow. "You don't want to talk about a lot of things."
Matthew stood up.
Vinny didn't move back. He met him head-on, stubborn and reckless like he always was, and Matthew's jaw clenched so tight it hurt. "He said something about you," he admitted, voice low. "Something that made me want to break him."
Vinny blinked. "What did he say?"
"I said I don't want to talk about it." Matthew stepped around him, walked toward the kitchen like he needed something to focus on—anything but this. But Vinny followed, dragging that chaotic, magnetic presence behind him like a storm cloud.
"You think hiding shit from me is going to make any of this easier?" Vinny's voice rose. "You think I can't handle it?"
Matthew spun. "I think you'd do something reckless and then hate yourself for it."
That struck deeper than he expected. Vinny's expression twisted—not into anger, but something worse. Hurt. For a second, Matthew wanted to take it back.
Instead, Vinny closed the distance again, slow this time, voice soft. "You don't trust me?"
"I trust you," Matthew murmured. "I don't trust what this—what we—makes you do."
Vinny stared at him for a long moment. "That's fair," he said finally, then leaned in close, brushing his fingers along the side of Matthew's neck. "But you're no better, Matt."
That was the thing—they both brought out the worst and the best in each other. They both loved it, and they hated it.
And right now, Matthew didn't want to argue anymore.
He grabbed Vinny by the hoodie, yanked him in, and kissed him like he was drowning—fast, rough, desperate.
Vinny kissed back harder.
They stumbled back into the living room, lips clashing, teeth scraping, hands tangled in hair and fabric. Matthew pinned Vinny to the wall, his mouth never leaving his. Vinny gasped against his lips, hands gripping his hips like he needed to anchor himself.
It wasn't soft. It wasn't sweet. It was everything they were—angry, needy, addicted.
Vinny pulled back just enough to whisper, breathless, "Tell me I'm yours."
Matthew's breath hitched.
Vinny smirked, voice softer now. "You like it when I say it, don't you?"
Matthew growled under his breath, gripping Vinny's jaw. "Say it again."
Vinny leaned up and dragged his lips along Matthew's throat. "I'm yours."
Matthew closed his eyes. Something cracked open in his chest, and he didn't know if it was comfort or fear. He kissed him again, deeper this time, slower.
But beneath the heat and desire, there was something else—unspoken words, a looming storm.
Because no matter how tightly he held Vinny, the guilt from what he did to Tom—and the secrets he was keeping—pressed down on him like lead.
The Next Morning
Vinny woke tangled in sheets and warmth, the early sun streaming in through the windows. Matthew was already up, standing shirtless in front of the window, sipping coffee like some magazine ad with bruises and secrets.
He looked tired. Not physically, but emotionally. Like the weight of something was finally catching up with him.
Vinny sat up, running a hand through his messy hair. "You never sleep, do you?"
Matthew glanced over his shoulder. "Not much."
Vinny watched him. "You're brooding."
"I'm not."
"you are."
Matthew smiled faintly, but it didn't reach his eyes.
Vinny slipped out of bed and padded toward him, wrapping his arms around Matthew's waist from behind, resting his chin between his shoulder blades. "You always do this—go quiet when something's wrong."
Matthew's hand slid over Vinny's. "Not everything has a solution, Vin."
"Try me."
Matthew turned, facing him, eyes searching his face like he was trying to memorize him. "If I told you I did something you wouldn't like, would you still trust me?"
Vinny stilled. "Depends. Was it for me?"
A pause.
Matthew didn't answer.
Vinny nodded, stepping back. "Then I'll let it go. For now."
Matthew looked relieved and wrecked all at once. "You're not going to ask?"
Vinny shook his head. "Not yet. But if it ever comes back to bite us, you better not lie to me."
"I won't."
They stood in silence for a moment, then Vinny muttered, "God, you're such a mess."
Matthew laughed—short and sharp. "You're one to talk."
"Touché."
Later That Day – With Tom and Kieran
Tom's lip was split, and he sat with an ice pack on his cheek, seething.
Kieran sat across from him, sipping iced coffee like he hadn't watched the whole disaster unfold the night before.
"You deserved it," Kieran said casually.
Tom glared. "You're supposed to be on my side."
"I'm on the side of common sense. Which you clearly lack."
Tom stood up, pacing. "He's ruining him."
"Vinny?"
"Yeah. He used to be fun. Reckless. Now he's all moony-eyed and distracted and—soft."
Kieran raised a brow. "You're mad because your friend's in love?"
Tom scoffed. "He's not in love. He's obsessed. There's a difference."
"Sounds like projection."
Tom's jaw clenched.
Kieran leaned forward. "Look, whatever game you were playing—pushing Vinny to manipulate Matthew, treating it like a joke—you lost. He actually caught feelings."
"Then he's an idiot."
"No," Kieran said, standing. "He just found someone who finally matches his kind of crazy."
Tom's silence was telling.
And behind the bitterness, Kieran saw it—regret.
Not just over the plan falling apart, but something deeper. Something he wouldn't admit. Not yet.
Back with Vinny and Matthew – That Night
They sat in the dark, TV humming in the background, both of them pretending they weren't thinking about the fire they'd lit and couldn't put out.
Vinny leaned against Matthew, fingers brushing against his arm. "Do you think we're bad for each other?"
Matthew didn't answer right away. "I think we're the only ones who really see each other."
Vinny smiled. "So, yes."
Matthew laughed under his breath.
Vinny shifted closer, mouth at his ear. "Good. Because I don't want something safe. I want this."
Matthew pulled him into his lap and kissed him like a promise—messy, real, and maybe a little dangerous.
But they were both too far in to stop now.