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sickbunsbro · 2 years

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Golden Boy Orange: Chapter One

Golden Boy Orange is my project where I try tell all of AFTG from Matt's Perspective (he is my golden boy orange <3 <3). It does feature some fully original scenes that Neil wouldn't have been there to witness as well as shifted POV in the pre-existing scenes, so that is very exciting to me and I'd love to hear what you think!

This can also be read on AO3. Tagging people I already know are interested, but just ask to be added to the taglist: @youhaveahomeinmyheart, @pipebomb-malewife, @accal1a, @iddragyouwithme, @sickbunsbro & @tntwme.

Without further ado:

Sunday, June 9th:

Matt sucked in a breath of fresh air as he stepped out of his truck, squinting at the dazzling sun shining down on him. The summer always seemed to stretch on forever, but it was finally over. He was finally back.

He closed the door of his truck—a harder task than it might sound, since it he’d crammed it to the brim with suitcases and bags, clothes that hadn’t fit slung over them, shopping bags stuffed with all the appliances and trinkets he couldn’t leave behind rustling around underfoot. A fair few even spilt onto the driver’s seat—he’d had to cope with his hair gel sitting on his lap the entire drive, and he stretched now at the sudden freedom, face breaking into a smile.

He flicked the wealth of suitcases a cursory glance, wondering if he should try pry his jacket out from the mess, before deciding he could deal with it later. Always put off till tomorrow what you don’t want to do today, or something like that. Besides, he wanted to meet their new striker, and if necessary, save him from the Monsters. He couldn’t imagine he’d done too well trapped here with them since May, so he set off at a light jog.

He strode in, humming the last part of the song he’d been listening to on the radio, the one he hadn’t been able to finish—he couldn’t remember what it was called, or who wrote it, but he knew it went da-da-da-da-da-dum, so there was that. Coach's office door was open, but Matt's attention lay elsewhere.

A short boy at the opposite end of the hall jolted, fingers closed in a steel grip around the handle of the door, and stared at him like he was a ghost.

Matt’s first thought was that he looked just right for the Foxes, dressed in baggy grey and brown clothes that sagged down from him, like those dogs with droopy jowls, the ones that wobbled like jello as they barked, and shoes that looked like the soles were about to peel right off his feet. A battered duffel bag was slung around his shoulders, fabric peeling at the edges. With patches of blotchy skin under his eyes, and bags large enough that they looked like Matt could fit most of the contents of his car in them and have room to spare, he wasn’t much to look at. But he was a Fox, so that was to be expected.

He made his way over—watching as the boy’s eyes darted from side to side, before settling on him, gaze skittering up to the tops of his hair, gelled into points, then back down to his outstretched hand and up to his face in an instant. Matt saw the effort written in his face, the strain in the flicker of his dull-coloured eyes as he tried to keep his gaze up at Matt’s face instead of the track-marks raking their way along his arms. He was a good kid, Matt decided in an instant, and he was doing his best, even if he looked seriously overwhelmed.

Just in case he hadn’t put a name to Matt’s face, in case that was the reason for his obvious unease, Matt introduced himself as he shook the kid’s hand—he had a clammy grip, sweat beading on his fingertips as Matt shook it.

“Matt Boyd,” he said, flashing what he hoped was a suitably warm smile. “I’m a junior this year, and I’m the Foxes’ starting backliner. You must be Neil.”

Neil opened his mouth to answer, but never got the chance. Matt whipped around at the sound of jangling keys, just in time to get smacked in the cheek with the offending set. He caught them in his palm before they reached the ground, then turned to face the man who’d thrown them: their dear Coach Wymack, gruff as always, standing in the doorway with arms sternly crossed.

“Jesus, Coach,” Matt laughed, slipping the keys in his pocket, “good to see you too. When did we move past a simple ‘hello’?”

Coach snorted. “I could say the same for you, stomping past my open door like that without so much as a by-your-leave.”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck. “You looked busy.”

“I’m always busy,” Coach shot back. “That’s never stopped you pricks from interrupting me before.”

Matt gestured to Neil, who stood stiffly to attention next to him, then shrugged. “Where are the monsters?”

“Probably razing Fox Tower to the ground as we speak. You met Neil?”

“I was trying,” Matt huffed, sending Neil a conspiratorial glance. Neil squinted, and Matt chuckled. “I can’t believe you put up with Coach this long. How did you survive?”

“I wasn’t around much,” came Neil’s curt reply.

“Neil’s been training with Kevin and Andrew every day,” Coach said simply.

“Oh god.” That explained the bags under Neil’s eyes—he’d probably been worked halfway to hell and back. “You’re awful, Coach.

“He knows it,” Abby said, poking her head out from the doorway. “Welcome back, Matt. Did you have a safe drive?”

“Safe enough, but I drank so much coffee I probably won’t sleep for a week,” Matt looked back to Neil, trying to signal politely to the others that that part of the conversation was over. They didn’t get the hint. “Already settled?”

Neil raised a single mud-brown eyebrow. “Coach wouldn’t let me move in without you.”

“Way to keep him waiting,” Coach grunted. “Take him and get out of here.”

Matt sent Coach a look that he hoped translated as ‘that’s what I was trying to do’.

“Come on,” he said, focus back on Neil now. “I’ll swing you past Coach’s place to get your things.”

“This is it,” Neil said.

Matt looked at the duffel bag. He blinked, looked around the room for hidden suitcases. He looked back at the bag, blinked again, looked at Neil, looked at Coach. Coach shook his head.

Matt turned back to Neil. “That’s a joke, right? You should see how much I crammed into my truck—and how much I had to leave behind—and you expect to last a year with one bag? That thing have magical expanding powers I don’t know about or something?”

Coach smirked. “You get to take him shopping later this week. On your time, not mine. I’m sick of seeing him in the same clothes over and over. Just let me know when you’re going and I’ll give you the p-card so we can expense it.”

“I have money,” Neil said indignantly. Matt looked him up and down, and wondered exactly what him classed as money.

“Good for you,” Coach said. “I thought you two were leaving.”

Matt stuck his tongue out at him. “Didn’t miss you at all,” he quipped. “Let’s go, Neil.”

“We’re not all bad, just so you know,” Matt said as he pulled out of the parking lot. “Dan hated that your first impression of us would be the do-nothings. She was pretty sure you wouldn’t stick around long enough to meet the rest of us. She thought about coming back to campus early to be a buffer, but Coach told her not to bother. Said you had to deal with them eventually.”

Neil’s fingers were white where he held onto the straps of his duffel, eyes glued to the road ahead. “They’re interesting,” he said blandly.

“Interesting,” Matt repeated incredulously. “That’s the tamest description of them I’ve ever heard. Seriously, though. If they give you any trouble, let me know. I’ll kick Kevin’s ass for you.”

He’d beat Kevin no sweat—especially when use of his dominant hand was pretty much nil—then probably have to leave the state to avoid Andrew’s wrath. But hey, Neil would be safe, and Andrew would be distracted.

“Thanks,” Neil said curtly, “but I think I can handle them on my own.”

Matt raked a hand through his hair, feeling the spikes skewing beneath his fingers. “I thought I could handle them, too. Andrew made it pretty clear he wasn’t going to be handled by anyone. You change your mind, you know where to find me. My offer’s good through graduation.”

“Thanks,” Neil said, but Matt got the feeling he was only saying it to keep him off his back.

A beat of silence, then Matt pointed at Fox Tower, looming above them both on the top of the hill the campus wrapped itself around.

Neil stared up at it, mouth opening slightly, then narrowed his eyes as Matt skipped all of the lined spaces in the car park in favor of pulling up at the curb.

“Right,” Matt said, clapping his hands together, “out you get. You can help me unload all my stuff, if that’s cool with you.”

“It’s cool,” Neil said, hugging his duffel bag close to his chest. Instead of putting it down when he helped unload the contents of the truck, he carried it along with him on every trip back and forth from the truck to the sidewalk, swinging against his hip even as they lugged Matt’s massive couch out from the trunk-bed and set it down amongst the growing pile of stuff.

He stayed with the pile as Matt pulled into a parking spot—he could see him staring through the mirrors, standing stiffly next to the pile. Matt stuck his head out the window. “You can sit down on something!” He called. “There’s more than enough stuff to make a seat.”

Neil blinked at him, then perched cautiously on the edge of one of Matt’s large suitcases, legs tensed like he would be ready to run in an instant. Matt flashed him a cheesy grin, complete with double thumbs up, and Neil just sighed.

Once Matt had parked—and he made a stellar job of it, if he said so himself, considering the whopping size of his truck, even without full sets of furniture sticking out of the trunk—he and Neil got to the gruelling task of transporting everything up to their suite, Room 321. If Matt had realised before that his couch was too large to fit in the elevator, he might have packed differently. Since he hadn’t, they had to make do lugging it up the stairs. They were to narrow to make it easy on them, and the handrail kept getting in their way as they tried to turn corners at the landing, but at long, long last, they had the last of their—well, Matt’s—stuff up at 321.

From there, it was just a matter of trial and error making everything fit, and when Matt started fussing over the intricacies of his entertainment centre—he’d taken the shelves out of it for the drive, but most of the bolts were still in place—Neil left to check out the bedrooms.

Matt sighed in relief when it was finally done, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. He clapped them together, then said to himself, “Well, that’s a job well done if ever I’ve seen one.”

Eager to share it with Neil—or at the very least, just check up on the kid and make sure he hadn’t scared himself shitless at the sight of the beds, which didn’t seem too far fetched considering just how jittery he was—he trooped into the bedroom. Neil stood still as a statue, breathing hard as he stared down at the bare bunk beds.

“Neil?” Matt asked.

Nothing. Not a shred of movement from his roommate.

“Neil?” Matt asked, and Neil jolted, whipping around to face him. “I’m heading out to get Dan and Renee from the airport. Want to come with?”

“I’ve got to run by the store.” Neil gestured to the conspicuous lack of sheets. “Do you care which bed you sleep in?”

“I’m too tall to sleep up top,” Matt answered, “and Seth keeps weird hours, so unless you’ve got a thing with heights, you’re better off in the loft.”

Neil nodded.

“I’ll be back in an hour or so, and you can hitch a ride with us to court when the girls are settled. Dan won’t believe you’re okay until she sees you with her own eyes.”

Matt wasn’t sure Neil was okay even after seeing him with in person, but he didn’t voice those doubts, instead looking to Neil for some sort of response.

“I’ll be back by then,” He said simply, then turned away.

Matt stared after him, then sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

He turned away and, without any more fanfare, left the suite.

#YESSSSS

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