.:'*':.Eddsworld and Off Oneshots .:'*':.

Neighbor (ToMatt)

(see end of chapter for notes)

The sun fought for space in the sky,  but after a few minutes,  the night cascaded over the villigent light.   Tom opened the small window of his room to reveal the old,  boring wood fence that gaurded his yard from intruders or animals.   He couldnt remember which one it was,  exactly.  His tongue ran across the brackets attached to his aching teeth;  he had gotten them tightened the day before,  so the pain he felt was expected.

The landscape laid out before him brought back a feeling of excitement, tranquility,  euphoria,  and loneliness.  Frozen breath jutted in front of his face.  

Why didn't I just ask then?  

July...  Fourth of July to be exact.

Even the brightest fireworks couldn't compete with the trees in our yard.   I decided to climb up on the fence,  and I didn't realize how strong the wind was.  

I fell,  and I started to cry once my knees burned and I could feel the pebbles and rocks digging into my flesh like a monster.   Who keeps a small koifish pond right next to a fence?   Reluctantly,  my head snapped up and sea foam green eyes pierced mine.   His sunkissed,  freckled cheeks looked more sunburnt in the odd lighting and from the reflected light of the water 'twixt us.  

"Hey,  I'm Matt...  Are you my neighbor? "
"Uh,  I think so?
"Oh.   You're bleeding.   How about you come inside? " His smile was perfect in comparison to the five grand worth of orthodontia I was packing.

Inside,  his house was just like mine,  but it had more of a family dynamic I suppose.  His mother and father smiled like he did, and their eyes resonated images of hidden, ethereal coves covered in moss enabling the inhabitants to thrive within its waters.  

"You know, you could've asked if you wanted to watch the fireworks with us!  But, I understand why you didn't, haha."  Matt brought a first-aid kit and cleaned the wounds on my knees; even though he had to pick the pebbles out from under my skin, he was gentle about it.  Matt's parents were telling us about the foolish quarrels they created with their neighbors from their high school days.  

There was a scratch on my mid-thigh that was seeping with anger; it flamed and puffed with an intense fire around the edges.  Matt ran his nimble fingers over it, and his breath hitched, somewhere between pain, or a cringey ache.  

"You can wrap it.  It doesn't hurt that badly."  With that, Matt covered the bloodied trench presenting itself proudly on my leg.  

"Thanks, I appreciate it, Matt."  His parents ushered us outside to sit in a few pastel themed lawn chairs to watch the loud, chemical mini-bombs exploding in the night.  

"We should hang out sometime, Tom.  I think it'd be fun!"

"Yeah, me, too."

Siberian beasts nipped at his face and fingers.  He chipped away at the black polish on accident by biting his nails to the bleeding point.  When all of the white vanished, he picked at his lips, imitating how Matt had done it less than three months ago.  They were home-ridden by the snow, but once the seasons changed, they'd sit in each others backyards and watch the passing planets.  They'd watch more than the planets pass, however.  Both anxious to feel the stinging pleasure, to be rough on soft lips, to be anything but infinitive.  

His eyes were swollen, tinted red, almost like a vampire from any number of horror movies.  His chest huffed sporadically within its own confines of a purple hoodie.  Despite the sad vibes Matt was broadcasting, I went over to him and flashed my almost perfect teeth.  

"Oh, I see you got your braces off!  You look like you're excited about something, too."  Matt lightened up a bit, but that didn't throw me off the boat of concern.

"Well, yeah... I do have a surprise, I suppose."

I've wanted to do this ever since the first time I looked up at the face that could put a semi-realistic artist's portraits to shame.  

No.  Forget about that.  It was all fake.  You are nothing more but Basil Hallward to the modern Dorian Gray.  A stupid, forgiving painter who can't even save himself in the end.  Take the moral.

Forget about this.

Forget about him.

"Hmf."  All he could manage to react with.  No use saving those who wouldn't make the same effort.  The wind whipped Tom's hair to the side.   Blood dripped on the windowsill. 

Sitting alone, once more.  I feel like pluto, the planet that nobody's sure about at this point.  A drifting leaf caught my attention due to it's intense red flare.  Did I really lose out on anything?  He was beautiful... My beautiful neighbor.  But.  That was all.  God, maybe I'm the shallow one.  I hope someone is able to understand Matt because I sure can't.  Haha, even the stars blink in agreement on this calm, autumn night.  

Snow collected on the jutting features of Tom's face, and instead of moving, or going back inside, he let it stay.  He wished that Matt had stayed with him.  Collected on him like the snow.  Crystals added weight to his shoulders; it added to the weight he put on himself after he wrecked the kind of neighbor bond that one forms when associating with said neighbors.  Hours went by, waiting.  Slowly, but surely, the mental weight vanished for another feeling, and that vanished for physical weight.  Cold.  Maybe now, he could feel what Matt feels, but he'd never even begin to arrive close to that.  That would be empathy.  The one feeling that Matt never had.

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A/N wow that was a train wreck.  I'm gonna be writing a pizza boye! au thing for the next chapter and it might have some smut idek but it'll be tomtord.  I drew Tom in a shirt that says pizza slut and 

hes ringin up that pizza place with a hat,

to them that,

hes here to order,

the finest norwegian ass plus a cool cat,

and he'll be comin back cause hes a hoarder