#got an interview sooooon | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

comphersjost · 5 years ago

Text

All For You | 5 [Finale] ➸ Brady Tkachuk and Matthew Tkachuk

firstly, i want to say thank you all so fucking much for the love, the support, the countless asks, comments, and reblogs on this series. this is an epilogue of sorts - mostly focusing on matty’s POV - as well as a tribute to the first part that started this all. enjoy my loves <3

4 times Matty knew he loved you, and the one time he knew you loved him.

word count: 6.8k+

warnings: some smut, not super descriptive, angst, elias and noah being little shits, lots of elaboration on events previously mention in the series :)

part one

part two

part three

part four

masterlist

The game was brutal. You curled up on your couch to watch it, your body tense the entire time. You lost track of how many times Matt fought someone on the ice, whether he went after someone on behalf of one of his teammates, or when he was being targeted. To say the least...Matt got his ass handed to him.

The game ends with the Rangers shutting out the Flames. You keep the TV on, anxious to see if Matt was going to be interviewed. He wasn’t, but you caught glimpses of him behind Mark Giordano as he answered questions in that monotone hockey voice. Matt looked like a wreck from what you saw, bruises forming on his face and hair an absolute mess.

You shake your head and turn the TV off, immediately reaching for your phone. You text him without thinking, not realizing what you did until you see ‘delivered’ under the messages.

you: i’m sorry about the game :( you: anything i can do? you: ice cream or something?

You panic when the read receipt pops up almost immediately. You'd only been in Calgary for about a month, and only hung out with him a couple of times - and that was with constant reassurance from Brady that you weren't a burden on him. Either way, there's no way he would trust you that much right?

Three short consecutive buzzes sounded, snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts.

matthew: can i come over? matthew: if that's cool with you matthew: no worries if not ik you said you haven't totally unpacked

You can't help the smile that tugs at your lips at the last text. Maybe he really didn't see you as just his brother’s best friend. You quickly type a response back.

you: of course you can !! you: and fyi i did unpack you: sorta

matthew: am i supposed to believe that???? matthew: be there in like. 20 matthew: i still gotta shower lol

you: then shower it up stink monster you: see u sooooon you: any snack/drink requests?

It takes a few minutes to get a response from him, and you assumed that he showered during that time. Over the past month Matt almost never lagged when it came to responding to texts, except for practices and games.

Your phone buzzes again, but this time it’s a Snapchat notification from Matt. You click on it and the app switches. Tapping on the red square reveals Matt, seemingly fresh out of the shower with his thumb up. That caption reads “fastest shower time on the team? yessir”, another caption underneath reading “no longer a stink monster”.

You laugh and respond to a photo of the top half of your face, typing out “yeah yeah answer my text stinky”. He opens the snap immediately, and 30 seconds later you get a text from him.

matthew: yo tbh if you have popcorn 👀👀

you: ur in luck i do!! the super buttery kind tho :/

matthew: my fave matthew: don't tell anyone on the team tho

You pause for a moment. You hadn't even met anyone on the team, only heard them in the background of the few phone calls you'd had with Matthew. Did he want you to meet them?

Shaking the thought out of your head, you react to the message with the laugh reaction and assure him you won't. He texts you to let you know he was on his way and suddenly you panic again. Matt hadn't been in your apartment since your first week in Calgary. Even then it wasn't really your apartment, it was just an empty place filled with boxes. He had helped you build all the furniture that had arrived, but since then you’d only hung out with him at restaurants or bars or coffee shops.

You don't know why the idea of him in your space makes anxiety wash over you, and you have to remind yourself that Matt is someone you grew up with. He's your best friend’s brother and someone you've known your whole life, but for some reason you still felt like you had something to prove to him.

There's a heavy knock on your door before you can pull yourself out of your head enough to make sure everything in your apartment is clean and tidy, and you almost want to scream but you figure it would be weirder than having a slightly messy living room.

When you open the door for Matt, the first thing you notice are the two forming bruises on his face. The second thing you notice is how tired he looks, his smile genuine but still not reaching his eyes.

“Hey,” you breathe out, “Come in.” He bumps your shoulder softly in a silent greeting as he slips past you into your apartment.

“The place looks great, Y/N/N,” Matt says softly, admiring the decorations and photos you’d placed around to make it feel more like home. You're glad he isn't facing you and can't see the surprised look on your face at hearing him call you by your nickname.

“Thanks Matty,” you say, your anxiety fading when he turns to smile at you again. “I’ll get the popcorn, you can pick a movie or a show or something, if you want.” You chuckle softly as he all but collapses on your couch, stretching out as you make your way towards the kitchen.

Matt’s eyes follow you as you disappear through the doorway, the sound of the microwave starting just a few moments later. If he wasn't so tired and bruised he would pay more attention to the nervousness bubbling up inside of him. It had been a long time since he really hung out with you like this - the last time he can remember was probably his senior year of high school. Brady had been gone on a class trip for one of the few classes you hadn't taken together, and Taryn was still too young for you to relate to her. So for a full week you showed up at their door and flopped on his bed, or vice versa, claiming that you were bored and were there to stay. He remembers pretending to be annoyed, but inside he was practically screaming, overthinking every little thing that he said to you.

His teammates would chirp him if they knew - Matt had known that for sure. What, a hotshot hockey playing senior getting butterflies over a sophomore girl? Oh, he would be torn apart in the locker room. That's why he didn't kiss you then. It was stupid, really, now that he thought back on it, but he was 17 then, and his teammates’ opinions were more important to him than taking a chance with his brother’s best friend.

But now you were here. In Calgary. And he was here, in your apartment.

He feels 17 again, your sweet voice floating from the kitchen asking him if he wanted anything to drink. He replies that he only wants water, and decides to take you up on looking through Netflix. He settles for a random episode of Parks and Rec when you come back to the living room, a bowl of popcorn in one hand, and two glasses of water somehow held in the other.

You make a face at him and shove his legs out of the way with your foot, placing the bowl and glasses on the table. You laugh when he groans and moves his legs out of the way so you can sit, before moving them back onto the couch to tangle with your own. Matt reaches for the bowl of popcorn as you snatch a blanket from its spot on the back of the couch and drape it over both of your legs.

“Still cold all the time, Y/N/N?” Matt teases, nudging his foot against your knee as you laugh sharply.

“Haven't changed a bit, Matty,” you throw back immediately. Your heart skips a beat when he laughs, a really, loud, genuine laugh, head thrown back and everything. You can't help but think that it suits him more than the tired smile he wore when he showed up at your door.

“You really haven't,” he says with a grin, eyes finally sliding back to yours. His hair curls over his forehead, but you can't look away from his eyes. The intensity of his stare makes you shiver, and you pretend it’s from the cold, pulling the blanket towards you more and looking away. You ignore his grumble of protest, but he lets you do it anyway.

“You haven't changed either, you know,” you say quietly. He stays silent, only shifting in his spot to get more comfortable.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, your eyes on the TV and his on...well his eyes are on you. He thinks back to all the times he wanted to make a move on you. Countless hours he spent beating himself up for letting the opportunities slip through his fingers because of his stupid pride.

He's not 17 anymore, he could kiss you right now. He could wrap his arms around your waist and pull you into his lap, kiss you until you're breathless and absolutely begging for him.

But he doesn't.

Not when you look like this, so comfortable and warm and here. He can't kiss you when you opened your home to him after a tough loss. He can't take advantage of you like that.

So Matt trains his eyes on the TV again, sneaking glances at you here and there as he all but shovels popcorn into his mouth so he doesn't say something stupid. He doesn't realize you've fallen asleep until he sneaks another glance at you, this time looking for just a little longer than a split second.

Your eyes are closed, cheek smushed into the cushion and your chest rising and falling with soft, even breaths. He realizes then how tired you must be, it’s nearly 11:30 and he knows you have to be up early for work. He can't tear his eyes away, can't help but take advantage of being able to stare at you without getting caught.

God, you're so cute like this, he wishes you were in his arms instead of on the other side of the couch. He wants this to last as long as possible, but your head is tilted at an awkward angle, and he doesn't want you to go to work tomorrow in pain.

Instead of taking his time looking over every inch of your adorable sleeping face, he gently untangles his legs from yours, grabbing the empty bowl and cups and heading to the kitchen. Once he's done washing them and placing them on the drying rack, he heads back to you, pausing in the doorway for one more moment to just look at you.

He finally convinces himself that he’s stared enough, it’s getting creepy now, and you need to go to bed. Matt makes his way back to you, squatting down and gently placing a hand on your arm.

“Y/N/N?” he says softly, rubbing softly up and down your arm.

“Hmm?” you hum softly, blinking slowly with blurry eyes.

“You gotta go to bed,” he murmurs, and he can't stop himself from brushing a piece of hair out of your face. “You have work in the morning, c’mon.”

You whine in protest and your eyes flutter shut again. You're too comfortable, too warm to get up now. Matt sighs, resignation setting in. He slowly peels the blanket off of you, folding and draping over the back of the couch like before, before sliding his arms underneath your back and knees and lifting you effortlessly.

You mumble something unintelligible as you bury your face in his chest. Matt says nothing as he finds your bedroom, depositing you on your bed as soft as he can, and tugging the duvet out from under you and then back over you again.

“You can't go home,” you mumble again, louder, grabbing his hand feebly before he can walk away. Matt freezes at the implication, even though he knows the thoughts spiraling in his mind are unlikely in your barely awake state. “S’late Matty, you can't go home.”

“Y-you-you want me to sleep here?” he stutters, and you nod, blissfully unaware of the rampage of emotions in Matt’s head.

“Guest bedroom’s furnished,” you slur, voice thick with exhaustion. “Don't go home. S’late.” With that, you're fast asleep again, and Matt - well -

Fuck, Matt thinks. He's fucked. And he knows it.

II.

Based on the look on Noah’s face, Matt knows he's going to get one hell of a lecture as soon as you're out of earshot. He'd finally taken you to meet his teammates, and he was really starting to regret it. He knows that you're beautiful, he'd just rather not watch his teammates stare shamelessly. He really is glad he told them warned them to keep their hands off though, using the excuse that you were his brother’s best friend and there was no way he would let those hooligans go after you.

But now that you're actually meeting them, Matt knows that they're going to call him on his shit. His team knows him better than that.

His hand is resting against the small of your back as he leads you to a booth towards the back of the bar. He slows down before he gets within earshot of the table, leaning in to ask softly, “You okay?”

You glance up at him with a nervous smile, but nod anyways. “Yeah,” you assure him, “I’m good, I just hope they like me.”

Matt laughs at that, shaking his head at your confused expression. His laugh fades as you raise an eyebrow, looking at him expectantly. “They'll love you,” he finally clarifies, “Promise.”

“Promise?” you say skeptically.

“Promise,” he confirms, and the grin on his face is infectious, you can't help but smile back at him. “C’mon,” he says, pushing you lightly until you reach the table.

“Matty!” exclaims one of the men at the table. A brunette, from what you can see in the dim light, and a face that makes him look 14. At his drunken greeting, the rest of the men and women at the table turn to look at you and Matt, making you shift uncomfortably under their collective gaze.

“Aaand he’s drunk already, this is Brady and I’s friend, Y/N,” Matt introduces you, his hand sliding from your back to squeeze your hand comfortingly. He introduces each of the people at the table - the baby-faced one was named Johnny - before nudging the blonde that looked like a Disney prince until he moved over to make room for the two of you.

“Hi,” you say, smiling shyly around the table. “It’s nice to meet you all, Matt’s told me a lot about you.”

“Hope he wasn't talking shit,” Prince Charming teases with a slight accent, flashing you a bright smile. What was his name? Elias?

“Oh he talks the most shit,” you banter, a sly smile tugging at your lips at Matt’s incredulous protest. “Always going on and on about how annoying you guys are - mmf!” Your teasing is cut short by Matt’s hand covering your mouth. Without thinking you lick the palm of his hand, laughing when he snatches it away again and off of your mouth.

“That's gross,” Matt complains, wiping his hand on his jeans.

“You asked for that,” you shoot back, elbowing him lightly when he rolls his eyes.

“You know, I’m starting to regret this,” he grumbles, fighting the smile playing on his lips, “you’re just as annoying as them.”

“Be nice Chucky!” Noah pipes up. You recognize him from the few times you’d stopped by Matthew’s apartment but had never stayed long enough to actually get to know him.

“Yeah, Chucky,” you taunt, “better be nice to me, I know where you live during the off-season too.” The table erupts into laughter at that, and you accept a fist bump from Elias.

“I like this one, Matthew,” Giordano says, “You better keep bringing her around.”

You flush at the compliment, having heard how highly Matt speaks of his captain.

Matt feels you relax into the booth, the tension in your body since your arrival finally draining at the approval from his team. He leans down slightly to murmur in your ear, “I told you they'd love you.” You smile at his words, tuning back into the conversation that had started up again.

“Matthew,” Elias suddenly says, drawing your attention away from the intense discussion about whether or not hotdogs were considered sandwiches (the group was split almost 50/50, by the way). “Let’s go get more drinks. Noah?”

You scoot out of the booth to let the two of them slip out, heading to the bar with Noah in tow, sliding back in to find yourself seated beside a beautiful blonde girl. She laughs when you say timidly, “I’m sorry, could you all tell me your names again?”

She introduces herself in a thick accent as Annica, Elias’s girlfriend, and the other girls do too, before quickly striking up a conversation. “Do not worry,” she says kindly, “I forgot most names the first time I met too.” You laugh at that, before some of the wives and girlfriends start to ask you about yourself.

“How do you know Matthew?” Brittany, Sean Monohan’s girlfriend, asks curiously.

“I grew up with him,” you explain. “Brady’s my best friend, they live across the street from my family.”

At the same time that you’re getting to know the girls at the table, Elias is slapping Matt upside the head.

“Dude!” Matt groans. “What the fuck?”

Noah rolls his eyes at Matt’s faux-obliviousness, “Dude, that girl is a smokeshow.” Noah manages to dodge Matt’s fist aimed at his arm, smirking at the defensiveness. “Just your friend huh?” he chirps, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Matt groans again, “Yes, just a friend, the hands-off rule still applies.”

Elias snorts, unconvinced, leaning back against the bar to observe you interacting with the team and WAGs. “She’s funny, and fits in well,” Elias remarks. “And Noah is right, she is a smokeshow.”

“I know,” Matt grumbles. “Don't you have a girlfriend?”

Elias throws his head back and laughs. “Annica pointed out when you walked in. Anyway, she's yours, clearly.”

“Dude.”

Matt was getting really sick of the chirping coming from his teammates. To be fair - they were right, but he couldn't let them know that. But as he follows Elias’s gaze to see you talking animatedly to the girls at the table - all of their attention trained on you - he can't help the soft smile on his lips. He's right, you do fit in well.

He wonders how you'd look wearing a jacket with his name on the back.

Noah’s voice snaps him out of his daydream. “I'm just saying man, you already look like you're halfway in love with her, so get on that.”

“No,” Matt snaps finally, before his expression drops slightly. “Besides, our parents are fully convinced that she and Brady are gonna end up getting married or whatever.”

Noah and Elias both wince at that, giving him sympathetic glances. Matt rolls his eyes, snatching half the round of drinks the bartender had deposited in front of them, and heading back to the booth, knowing that Elias and Noah were hot on his heels. Thankfully, he makes it before they can say anything else that might inspire Matt to do something stupid.

But as he slides back in beside you, watching you interact with his teammates - his family away from family - he can't help but think about how wrong Noah was.

More than halfway, Noah, way more than halfway.

III.

Matt’s lifelong habit of running away from his feelings just didn't seem to apply to you. No matter how much his feelings grew, how much they scared him, he still stayed. He still hung out with you, and texted you constantly. He still brought you to every team event under the guise of not wanting some random girl with him, and that he'd much rather have you there.

When you told him about your feelings for his brother, it stung. So Matt did the only thing he could - not run away, he could never run from you. He crushed the hurt away, pushed his feelings down down down until they were just a whisper at the back of his mind.

But then he made a mistake. He made an enormous, colossal, devastating mistake.

He kissed you.

He was wine-drunk, and so were you. Maybe that's why you let him. Maybe that's why you kissed him back. It was easier to believe that it was a drunken decision than let himself have any hope.

You'd been at his apartment for dinner, something that had become a weekly occurrence now. Matt couldn't deny that he liked this, having you to himself without anyone Brady to steal your attention.

You'd ordered in today, boxes of Thai takeout littering the counter. Matthew hadn't bothered to clean up after you were both done eating, insisting that he’d take care of it later, and for now you could just hang out. So that's what you did.

The two of you sprawled on his couch, forgoing wine classes to just pass the bottle back and forth until both of you were giggling. Your cheeks felt warm from the wine, and you felt good. You felt relaxed and at home.

You're thrown into another fit of giggles when Matt reminds you of the time Brady had fallen asleep after a game when you had all gone out for ice cream. He had ended up face planting directly into a scoop of his barely-eaten vanilla ice cream in the car on the way home, immediately snapping awake at the cold dessert hitting him directly in the face.

Through your laughter, you say “What about the time you were trying to impress - hic - that girl - what was her name, Brenna? - and then you -” you cut yourself off, laughing uncontrollably at the unimpressed look on Matt’s face. He knew exactly what you were talking about, and it was easily one of the more embarrassing moments of his life. When you can catch your breath again you finish “- and you were staring so you slipped and fell on the ice!”

Matt groans as you keep laughing, before a devious idea comes to mind. You know that look on his face all too well, your eyes widening as your laughter dies down.

“Matt-” you start as he starts reaching for you, turning into a shriek when his hands reach their destination. “Matt, no!”

His fingers finding your sides and tickling you mercilessly.

“Matt!” you gasp, squirming to escape the torture. “I’m sorryyyyy! I won't mention it again, I promise!”

He pauses for a moment, eyeing you suspiciously.

“Promise?” he asks, his hands not leaving your sides even when you nod. He hums when you promise, distracted by your closeness. The wine made his mind fuzzy, and the feelings he's been harboring for so long come bubbling to the surface.

Matt is terrified he's going to say something he’ll regret - especially with the knowledge of your feelings for Brady - so he does the only thing that will shut him up. He does what he was too cowardly to do when he was 17.

He kisses you.

A surprised moan escapes your throat, but then you sigh, leaning into him and leaning into the kiss. His hold tightens around you as he tilts his head to slot your lips together. Your hands come up to run through his messy curls, making a noise of appreciation at how soft his hair is.

Matt can't help himself, he leans back to his side of the couch, tugging you with him and into his lap. One hand leaves your waist to cup your jaw as you straddle him, his teeth tugging at your lip before sliding his tongue into your mouth. The hand on your waist comes down to your ass, a strangled moan breaking the kiss as his hand pushes you impossibly closer to Matt.

Matt reconnects your lips immediately, addicted to the feeling of finally kissing you after all these years. Through the haze in his brain he thinks that this is probably a bad idea, but fuck does he love it.

You whine needily and break the kiss, rocking your hips against Matt and making him gasp.

“Fuck,” he rasps, his hips jerking upwards to grind into you. Your eyes flutter open for a moment, shuddering at the dark look in Matt’s eyes. You think of saying something - anything - but Matt’s hand curls around the back of your head and pulls you back in to meet his lips.

You tug at his hair as he kisses you, letting him move your hips into an undulating motion against his own. Matt's mouth drags away from yours, your whine turning into a soft moan as when he kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You shiver when you feel his teeth graze the column of your throat.

Matt kisses every inch of exposed skin, unable to help himself from sucking a deep purple mark into your skin just above your collarbone.

“Matty,” you whimper, grinding down harder against the growing tent in his sweatpants. Matt decides that your whimpers and moans are his favorite sound, and vows then that he’s going to do everything in his power to pull those noises from your body. He can't get enough of you, the way your hands roam over his shoulders and through his hair and the desperate way your grinding against him. You say his name again, this time a soft sigh as he keeps kissing at your skin, the hand on your ass sliding up and underneath your thin v-neck.

“Baby,” he grunts against your skin, running his nose up along your neck. You whimper at the pet name, and Matt gets impossible harder under you. “Baby,” he whispers again, pulling back to look you in the eye. “Tell me if you want this, angel.”

You nod frantically, leaning in to press your mouth on his again.

“Please,” you mumble against his lips. “I want this. I want you.”

Matt moans at the words, wishing that it were true in every context. Instead he wraps his hands under your thighs and stands, making his way blind towards his bedroom. He tosses you on his bed unceremoniously, kicking the door shut behind him.

You look up at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, reaching for him again, aching for his touch. Matt crawls over your body and brushes the hair out of your face as he hovers above you.

“Matt,” you whine needily, wrapping a hand around his neck to pull him down to kiss you again.

As Matt strips you of your clothes as well as his own, he lets himself pretend this is real. He fucks you with brutal, merciless thrust of his hips, and pretends like this isn't going to be a one-time thing. He lets himself feel while you cry out for him and arch your back as you cum. He calls you baby and acts like this isn't a drunken mistake you’re probably going to regret in the morning.

And when you're both spent, his arms curled around you as you give him a dopey, sleepy smile - looking like a real life angel, he thinks - Matt lets himself pretend, for just a moment, that you love him too.

IV.

He hates this.

Matt hates this.

He hates the feeling of your body shaking against him, uncontrollable sobs wracking your body. Brady had left that morning for Ottawa after Autumn had reached out to him, asking to give their relationship another shot. And Matt hates him for it right now.

He hates the sound of your crying, the tears spilling onto his shirt. He hates that you feel like this, heartbroken and miserable.

Matt hates how responsible he feels for this. He was so sure that Brady reciprocated your feelings, telling you over and over again that he was positive his brother loved you too. In hindsight, he might have been projecting, but to him, it was impossible not to fall in love with you.

The thing he hates the most, though, is how selfish he is. How he can't help but think of how good it feels to hold you again.

Another sob rips itself from your throat and Matt’s arms tighten around you, pulling you so that you were flush against his chest. He buries his face in your hair, whispering “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over as you break down in his arms.

He barely registers the feeling of you shaking your head against his shoulder.

“Not your fault,” you mumble through your cries, shaking your head more vigorously. “It-it’s not - it’s my fault - I thought -” You cut yourself off and bury your head in his shoulder as your bawling continues.

“It's not your fault,” he insists as one hand comes up to cup the back of your head, running through your hair in soft strokes. “It’s not, it’s not your fault, you did nothing wrong.”

Matt holds you like that for what feels like eternity, your sniffles and cries coming slower and slower until they stop. He still holds you tight, tracing patterns over your skin and running his hands through your hair soothingly. He whispers gentle words in your ear, comforting you the best he can.

Eventually you pull back slightly too look up at him, making Matt mourn the loss of feeling every inch of you pressed up against him. You look tired, sleepy, but most of all, you look sad - and it kills him inside.

“Thank you,” you whisper hoarsely, making Matt’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“What for, angel?” The nickname doesn't go unnoticed by you, and you can't help the warm feeling that worms its way through your heartbreak.

“Everything,” you shrug, not wanting to really say the truth. Matt takes it for an answer, even though you both know it’s really not, and smiles gently, brushing hair out of your eyes like he's done so many times. “M’sorry about your shirt,” you mumble, and Matt laughs at that, his head thrown back.

“I've got plenty of shirts,” he teases, thumb sliding back and forth over your jaw comfortingly. As his laughter fades, his gaze becomes locked on yours. You look like you're in deep thought, at war with yourself, and he barely refrains from asking you what you're thinking about.

“Okay?” Matt asks gently, eyes softening when your eyes focus on him again. You open your mouth as if to say something, before closing it again and nodding slowly. “Y/N/N?”

Before he can really ask what's going on, you're throwing your arms around his neck, your lips colliding with his. Matt can't help but melt into the kiss, cupping your cheek as your lips move together. He hadn't felt this in so long.

Oh, he missed this. He missed the feeling of your mouth on his. Missed kissing you until you were breathless. Missed the way you fit perfectly in his arms.

He moans gently, nearly delirious with his need for you.

A pang of guilt shoots through him, making Matt pull away even as you whine and chase his lips. You look up with wide eyes and a slight pout, before you seem to realize what just happened.

“Fuck, I’m - I’m sorry,” you gasp, scrambling to escape his embrace. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to - that was fucked up - I’m sorry -”

Matt’s grip only tightens, grabbing your chin to make you face him. “Hey - hey,” he says sharply, making you stop struggling and look at him. “It’s okay, I promise, we just - you're not in the right - we can't -”

“I know,” you cut him off, “I know, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” he assures you again, before asking you softly, “Do you want to go home?”

You weren't sure which home he meant - your family’s house across the street or Calgary - but either way you shake your head frantically, clinging to him tighter at the idea of being alone with your broken heart right now.

“Okay,” he soothes gently, “That's okay, I’m gonna go shower, okay? You wanna change?” You glance down at your clothes - sweatpants and a t-shirt - and shake your head again.

“This is fine,” you say timidly, your voice small and sad and widen the hole in Matt’s heart.

“Okay,” he murmurs, setting you gently on his mattress and tugging the duvet over you. “I won't be long, I promise.” You nod sleepily, your eyes already fluttering shut as you acknowledge him, as he backs away slowly.

Matt has to clasp a hand over his mouth in the shower, muffling the noises out of his mouth as he weeps.

He almost wants to laugh at the irony of it all. You love Brady. You love him and your heart is breaking because of it. And so is his. And even as Matt puts on clean pajamas and crawls back into his bed beside your sleeping figure, he still feels like he might start to cry again.

But then you mumble his name, your voice thick with sleep as you reach for him. Your hands feel small against his chest as you fist the material of his shirt and tug him towards you, sighing contently when his arms slide around your waist.

You fit so fucking perfectly, Matt thinks, with your body tucked into his like this. His eyes linger on your face for a few moments, taking in the peaceful look on your sleeping face after hours of anguish and emotional turmoil. As he begins to drift off, his last thought before he falls into slumber, is how he's never been more at ease, more happy, more in love, than when he's with you.

Matt has never been in so much pain in his entire life. The moment his eyes fluttered open, still blurry from sleep, he snapped them shut again. It was too bright. Why is everything so bright? He only knows one person that keeps the blinds open when they sleep and that was - Matt’s blood runs cold.

“I like it when the sun wakes me up,” you’d said when he asked you. “It feels less like an alarm clock and more of a gentle reminder, you know?”

He didn't know, he really really didn't, especially with the pounding in his head. But he has to know for sure, so slowly but surely, he opens one eye and then the other. Matt’s heart rises to his throat when he realizes where he is.

Part of him thinks he might die on the spot. But the other part - the selfish fucking part of him - whispers that waking up in your bedroom is what he's been dreaming of for months.

But then it hits him. The pain.

Not the pounding headache, no - this was worse. This was so much fucking worse. It was worse than the day in his parents’ basement when you walked away from him all those months ago. Worse than the night he came home and found you naked in Brady’s bed. This pain felt worse than anything he'd ever felt before.

It’s excruciating. He feels like someone had punched a hole in his chest and torn out his heart. The ache in his chest surpasses the throbbing in his head.

Matt feels like he's going to cry, the desire to curl up into a ball and disappear overwhelming him and he wants to cry.

How did he even get here?

Matt doesn't remember most of last night, little snippets here and there. He remembers your Instagram post, the cutest fucking picture he's ever seen of you holding and ice cream cone and laughing, a smudge of the frozen treat dotted on your nose. He remembers grabbing a bottle the moment he got home. He remembers Noah and Elias, remembers seeing their lips moving, but doesn't remember what they said.

Before he can stop it, there are tears slipping down his cheeks. Matt is so fucking sick of crying. He's tired of feeling like this.

And he hates that he knows that it's his own damn fault.

The idea of seeing you again - of you seeing him like this - makes his skin crawl. He promised to leave you alone after the game, and he’s ashamed that all it took was an Instagram post and a little too much liquor for him to come crawling back.

The selfish part of him pipes up again. You can't help it. You love her. She's yours.

Being here, in your apartment, your bedroom, makes Matt dizzy. He needs to leave. Now.

He’s in such a rush to leave, roughly wiping at the tears on his face, he almost doesn't notice the pair of pills on the nightstand, a glass of water set on a coaster beside them. He hesitates for a moment, but decides that he doesn't want to feel like a trainwreck for the rest of the day, and downs the pills with a gulp of water.

There's clattering in the kitchen, preventing him from a stealthy escape. Matt is shocked when you don't let him leave, head spinning with exhaustion and confusion and really - just your presence. He can't stop staring at you. Even like this, in a hoodie and leggings, Matt thinks you're the most beautiful fucking thing he's ever seen.

This is too domestic. He shouldn't be here. This is too intimate. Too much.

This isn't for you. Brady is the one who should be here. Matt flinches when the thought slithers into his head, but before he can make it out the door, you're turning from the stove and practically yelling at him to sit. You sound like his mom, he thinks, but sits anyways.

When you ask him about Autumn, Matt thinks he might die. Right then and there, he wishes the floor would swallow him whole. But instead of that happening, his stupid fucking mouth moves to vomit out the words before his brain catches up. “I was sick of seeing him hurt you, I watched him hurt you for so long, Y/N, I held you while you cried and I - I never want to be the one to make you feel like that.”

This was the most you'd spoken in months, and even through the pain of seeing you again, Matt can't help but be overcome with relief. You didn't hate him. Matt feels dazed through the rest of the conversation, just barely focusing as a result of your presence addling his brain even as you snap at him to shut up. Until - until -

“..Brady and I are not together…he’s not it for me.”

Matt freezes, the words rattling inside his skull.

Not it for me not it for me not it for me

Matt shoves half a piece of French toast in his mouth, barely chewing it before swallowing and repeating your words back to him. You laugh at his bewilderment, your fingers curling around his own as you speak.

He's going to kill Brady, he decides as he finishes off the rest of his toast, immediately. His little brother is a menace and it’s finally going to catch up to him.

But he needs to hear you say it first. He needs it.

Then Matt is tugging you to stand up, and your hands are wrapping around his neck as he gets closer.

And you say it.

“I love you too Matty.”

And then he's kissing you.

Finally - finally - he's kissing you and you love him.

You love him.

Matt feels like he wants to cry again, this time for a completely different reason. The pain he'd felt this morning starts to drain away as you press yourself closer to him, hand slipping up to card through his curls. He pulls back to look at you for a moment, grin so wide he thinks his face might break. He leans in again, giving you one, two, three, four more kisses. With every kiss, Matt feels a piece of his heart returning to its place.

“Say it again,” he pleads, eyes fluttering closed as you whisper against his lips.

“I love you, Matthew, more than anything, I love you.”

And later, when you're giggling against his mouth on the couch as his fingers graze your ticklish sides and you're whispering the three words over and over and over again, he knows it's true.

He's it for you, you're it for him.

Matt loves you.

But more importantly, you love him.

FIN (for real this time)

#ta daaa #matthew tkachuk #brady tkachuk #all for you series #calgary flames #ottawa senators #hockey #nhl #imagine #smut #angst #my writing #nhl imagine #hockey imagine

353 notes · View notes

chibimyumi · 8 years ago

Text

Musical “Kuroshitsuji” – Interview with Furukawa Yuta as Sebastian Michaelis (Part 1)

<<Link to original interview>>

<<Link to part 2 of the interview>>

The first part of the interview with Furukawa Yuta on the Kuroshitsuji musical Franchise and the upcoming musical. The translation of the second part will follow sooooon.

“As an actor Furukawa Yuta plays [Sebastian] with the wish to make this his representative role.”

“Even without knowing the original series beforehand, the musicals of “Kuroshitsuji” are incredibly enjoyable as a play.”

Q: Mr. Furukawa, what are the “Kuroshitsuji” musicals to you?

A: “I am a fan of the original manga series. Although I only started on the series because of the role I received, and I planned to read the “Lycoris that Blazes the Earth” arc only, the manga was just so enjoyable I found myself accidentally finishing all 23 volumes that were available back then. I have always been a great fan of mysteries and suspense in series, and the story of “Kuroshitsuji” is very interesting. I think it is fantastic how the riddles offered in the first half of an arc get to be solved gradually as the story moves towards its second half. Moreover, the characters are very charming, and because the series is filled with remarkable characters it really feels as though a whole new dimension opens up to [the reader].

I have watched the musicals before [joining the franchise myself], and the characters were all very interesting, so I felt very enchanted. I guess I found the eccentric Grell Sutcliff (Uehara Takuya) the most interesting. And also Viscount Druitt played by Hide-chan (Sasaki Yoshihide) is very charming.”

Q: There are many people attracted to musicals based on an original manga series, the so-called “2.5D musicals”. How do you feel [2.5D] musicals differ from standard musicals?

A: “What I find is essential to 2.5D musicals is that it is especially important to emulate the original series as well as possible, in order to satisfy the fans of the 2D manga. The “Kuroshitsuji” musicals though, even if you do not know the original work beforehand they are very enjoyable, and both cast and staff work hard to produce a singular, solid work. Therefore I think that even without having watched the others, the newest musical might be able to cater to the wishes of spectators.”

Q: Regarding the “emulate the original series as well as possible,” I have often heard people say things like: “Moulding the cast’s hairstyles of body-type [after the character].

A: “If we are talking about Sebas, then I think that a long and slender aesthetic is better suited, so I do not need beefy muscles, and for once that is fine, I thought. That is why I have been training as usual, but take care to maintain my slenderness with bare-minimum muscles during the rehearsal. Other than that I don’t really do anything with my body though. However, I do pay a lot of attention to standing up straight, my posture and demeanour in order to look like a proper butler.

It is not like I do not take any of the fans’ voices into consideration. It is just that I do not let those dictate me. All I want is to be able to establish a clear image of Sebas in the spectators’ minds, and I really hope not to disappoint anybody. I have been hoping that this mind-set might be able to help improve the quality of this franchise.”

“Playing the demon consciously maintaining the ‘high-angle view’”

Q: You have taken part in the “Kuroshitsuji” musicals in the two arcs “Lycoris that Blazes the Earth” and “NOAH’S ARK CIRCUS”. How do you perceive Sebastian Michaelis (Sebas), the role you have been playing?

A: “Even though he is a demon, he is a demon I can empathise with a lot. For example how he observes the foolishness of human beings and everything going on in the world. He just observes and looks down on human beings like ourselves, and sees everything through an objective eye.”

Q: It has been said that it is very difficult to be entirely conscious of things outside oneself if you’re young. But Mr. Furukawa, as an actor whose job is to sculpt roles into persons, you might have been maintaining a ‘high-angle view’ [for the character-building], right?

A: “It goes without saying that there is plenty in my direct surrounding that I cannot see (laughs), but indeed in the past few years, as I have been placed in the position of playing [the lead character] , I guess at least I am always aware that I must be looking around myself.”

Q: Have you also intentionally differentiated yourself from the first Sebas played by Mr. Matsushita Yuya?

A: “No, I have not, in a good way, I mean. I have also seen the performances by Mr. Matsushita, but at that time I never thought that I would be next [playing Sebas]. And there was no need for me to think about ‘how I should play this character’ and such matters, so that was very fortunate for me. When it had been decided that I would be getting this role, I did not purposely think about how to go in a different direction, nor did I look at any past footage, I just wanted to devote myself to creating my own Sebas through the original manga.”

“I value the fear and anxiety brought by Sebas’ existence greatly”

Q: Well, Mr. Furukawa, what kind of character is the Sebas you have you been building then?

A: “The ‘fear’ that I experience, the lurking anxiety that is left inside of me from reading the original comics is something I pay attention to and want to recreate. It’s that kind of anxiety for example, that when you are abroad, the restlessness from just being so far from home, from Japan. I think Sebas is fearsome no matter in what part [of the manga]. Because even though he is protecting his master Ciel with all his might, the very reason he formed the contract with the boy was to kill him and devour his soul in the end. I value that sense of fear and when I play [Sebas] I really want to express that fearsomeness well.”

Q: Sebastian’s loyalty for his master is absolute, so I have always imagined that he might gradually fall in love with his master…

A: “You could say that. But there really is surprisingly little love I think. It has been established from the very first moment that they met, that Sebas does not have the same set of emotions humans have. So I can say with fair certainty that [Sebas] is not in love [with Ciel], I’m sure (laughs).”

Q: What is it like to play a non-human being?

A: “It’s terrifying. And by terrifying I mean it’s mostly the uncertainty that I never know whether I got him right. That is why I need to be critical of myself always. I am doing my utmost best to find the idea of “I am like this”. Because Sebas is not a human but a demon, there is no way we can be sure what he truly is like on the inside. For example, I’ve been watching animal documentaries, and therein are commentaries that say: “the animal is doing X for Y’s sake”, but in truth, we cannot be certain that the animal actually thinks like that. It’s something like that, I guess?

Q: So what is the most important thing to pay attention to in order to play such a role with confidence?

A: “If anything I guess the objectivity. The arc of the latest musical is especially strong in that, and I have a feeling that this one will be the grandest of all.”

<<Link to part 2 of the interview>>

249 notes · View notes