They get to the rehearsal dinner fifteen minutes late because Matt couldn’t pick a tie.

“It’s not going to be a problem,” Sebastian tells him for the twentieth time in as many minutes. “No one is going to mind that we’re a little late.”

“No one is going to mind that you’re late,” Matt corrects, fidgeting with his suit jacket as they speed walk up the sidewalk. They can see the outline of Amelia’s now, and he just wants to be there, be berated for being rude, and then let the whole anxiety of it brush off. “You’re the plus one.”

Sebastian laughs. Matt sneaks a glance at him before snapping his head back to look in front of him as he walks. He doesn’t have time to be distracted. He blames at least five minutes of his tie panic on the way Sebastian looks tonight in that suit. It’s charcoal gray and sharply fitting and Matt can’t erase the conjured image of Sebastian in that suit, making that face he knows he makes. It’s making him cranky and half-hard in his own, ill-fitting suit, and he just wants this night to go well.

He can’t believe he’s doing this.

“You know, you’d think you’d be handling this better,” Sebastian drawls out, earning him a sharp look from Matt that seems to just please him further. “You met my family yesterday.”

“So?” Matt’s distracted again because Sebastian throws his head back, shaking with laughter, which would be enough on its own, but now Matt can also see the little splattering of bruises he sucked onto Sebastian’s skin the night before. It’s getting him anxious and excited and ten types of things he does not need to be dealing with right now.

“It’s not as big a deal to hang out with your friends as it is for you to meet my family.”

“You didn’t tell your family that we were boyfriends,” Matt points out.

Sebastian puts his hands up in mock surrender. “Yeah, but you’re not the straight guy in town. Weirder for me to have a boyfriend than you.”

Which, all right. Matt can concede that point.

It’s less that Matt is bringing a boyfriend, fake or not, and more that it’s this boy. He can’t believe he’s bringing Sebastian Anders to a wedding rehearsal as his date.

His head feels like it might implode.

“Should we hold hands?” Sebastian jogs a few steps to catch up when Matt skids to a stop in front of the restaurant. He’s still grinning, nice and bright, unworried that he’s faking a relationship...and a gay one at that. Matt thinks it’s a little weird how comfortable Sebastian is with all of this.

“What?” he asks, absently. It’s hard to look at him this close, with this much anxiety in his gut. There’s a sandcastle of anticipation, and he’s worried about all the things that could send it crumbling down.

“Holding hands,” Sebastian repeats. He lifts his left hand for emphasis, wiggling his fingers. Then he drops it and intertwines his fingers with Matt’s. “With me.”

“Fake boyfriends,” Matt mutters, half as a reminder, half as a warning. He doesn’t know who he’s warning. He doesn’t know who he’s reminding. He’s so nervous.

“Ready?” Sebastian asks, lifting their hands to his mouth. He kisses the back of Matt’s.

Matt’s breath catches in his throat. Sebastian stares at him, wide eyed, his lips parted as their hands fall, still together, between them. He looks a little shocked, and Matt feels a little floored and they stay that way, just staring, until the door swings open.

“Oh! Holy shit!” Drew takes a huge step backwards, hand flying to his chest. “Jesus Christ, you two scared the hell out of me.”

Matt blushes furiously. He almost feels dizzy from the way all the blood rushes to his cheeks. “Sorry, Drew.”

“Drew?” Sebastian repeats, looking between them. “Groom-Drew?”

“Groom-Drew,” Drew confirms, raising his hand. “You’re the new guy?”

“I think that’s technically you,” Sebastian says, grinning. He drops Matt’s hand and lifts it instead to shake Drew’s. “Sebastian Anders.”

“Ah,” Drew nods knowingly. “I’ve heard about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” Sebastian quips, looking between them.

Drew raises one perfectly arched eyebrow. “Hardly.”

Sebastian’s mouth falls open, and Matt almost laughs. Drew’s quick and sharp, uncaring about how he comes off. It’s nice. Matt feels better.

“Okay.” Drew clears his throat, interrupting the gaping that Sebastian can’t seem to stop doing. “I’m on an ice run.”

“Oh, I could do it,” Sebastian offers quickly. “It’s your party.”

“Yes it is,” Drew says quietly, leaning towards them with his eyebrows raised and an expectant look on his face, “and if you don’t let me leave right now, it’ll be the end of that party.”

Matt laughs out loud that time. He takes an exaggerated step away and gestures to the empty space. Drew thanks him and bounds between them, walking purposefully if a little slowly toward the market.

“Well,” Sebastian says after a beat. He offers his arm like a gentleman at a ball and winks. “Shall we, Boyfriend?”

“You know, Seb, you’re getting entirely too much enjoyment out of this,” Matt tells him, turning to walk into the restaurant. Sebastian trails in after him, grumbling about killjoys.

Peter’s voice rings out from the head of the table. All of the little tables have been pushed together into the middle of the restaurant to make one long, Last Supper type of monstrosity. There are discount Valentine’s Day decorations hanging up that look faded and old. Peter sits at the head of the table, grinning and probably a little drunk already, and is wearing a crown.

“Matty!” Peter grins. “Sit down, sit down!”

The table is already mostly full but they manage to find two seats together halfway down in the middle. Someone passes them plates instantly and the guy to his left—Damien, but wow, he looks different than he did when they were growing up!—fills their wine glasses immediately.

“Thanks,” Matt says, while Sebastian profusely thanks the person who has offered him food. Matt watches him, digging into the casserole and chicken as if he’s a kid who hasn’t eaten in days. His enthusiasm is hilarious and, judging by the way the others around the table glance at him with amused expressions, Matt’s not the only one who thinks so.

Sebastian looks up long enough to notice that Matt’s not eating and frowns. “What’s wrong?” he asks around a mouthful of something. “Eat!”

Matt could point out how gross it is to talk with his mouth full or that he’s only just sat down, but both lectures might result in Sebastian’s face dimming from the happy enjoyment and Matt really doesn’t want to be the one responsible for that. So he just laughs, shaking his head a little, and takes his own bite of food.

“When did you two start dating?” Damien asks, spearing a piece of chicken on his fork. “Didn’t you only get into town like, this week?”

He hadn’t thought that far ahead. When he’d called Peter and told him he’d bring a plus one, blurting out the lie that Sebastian was his boyfriend, he’d hung up so quickly and taken a nap to avoid the stress-induced anxiety. He hadn’t considered that people would question him, though now that he’s here, eyes waiting for him to stop floundering awkwardly, he thinks he was naive for assuming that.

“I pulled him over,” Sebastian interjects, wine glass in hand. He shoots Matt a questioning look as if to ask are you all right? and Matt gives him a tight smile. “When he first got here, I was on duty and I pulled him over.”

“Love at first ticket?” Nick jokes.

Matt blushes and Sebastian laughs. “Something like that.”

“Yes,” Matt jumps back in, a little more confident now that no one is trying to poke holes in the story. Their story is so, so poke-able. He feels sick with nerves.

Sebastian distracts them by asking Nick about his love life. His string of bad dates capture the entire table’s attention and soon enough, no one is looking at Matt at all. He relaxes under the comfortable blanket of laughter and attention not focused on him.

“Hey,” Sebastian leans towards him, speaking quietly. “You all right?”

“Hello,” Matt answers too quickly, interrupting the tail end of Sebastian’s question. He quirks an eyebrow and Matt rolls his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You seem—” he stops, hesitating, before shrugging. “Nervous.”

“It’s nerve-wracking.”

“Being here?” Sebastian guesses.

“Being with you,” Matt admits.

Sebastian pulls back a little, watching him softly. “You weren’t nervous last night.”

Matt rolls his eyes. “Oh, shut up.”

“I’m just saying,” Sebastian teases, “you seemed pretty good then.”

“Like you didn’t,” Matt says.

Sebastian wiggles his eyebrows and winks. “No, I definitely was pretty good.”

A clearing of a throat has them both sitting back straight in their chairs. Matt grabs his wine and takes a sip.

“So,” Matt looks up to see Nick leaning back in his chair, grinning. “You finally bagged Anders.”

Matt’s face heats up so fast, he wonders if it’s dangerous to get such a rush of blood. “I don’t know what you could be talking about, Nick,” he says pointedly.

Nick laughs and looks around, as if checking to see if anyone else finds it funny. “Oh, come on, Matt. Peter says you guys are dating now.”

Matt wants the earth to open up and swallow him whole. Sebastian grabs his wine and chugs some of it down while looking between them. When Matt doesn’t answer, Sebastian throws an arm around the back of Matt’s chair and leans towards him a little.

“Yep,” he answers, popping the p. He shoots Matt a quick wink. “Boyfriends.”

Matt feels torn between rolling his eyes and blushing profusely. He lands on doing both.

“So,” Nick says, looking between them, oblivious to the lies and jokes that they’re sitting on as if steady, “You guys are finally dating. I think it’s only fair you tell us how you did it.”

Damien jumps into the conversation now. “Yeah,” he agrees. “You were so into him in high school.”

Matt contemplates for the first time the very real option of him dying in this restaurant at this party. He might actually pass out and die, right here. He hasn’t even had a chance to congratulate Peter.

“You were what?” Sebastian turns to him, mouth open a little bit in surprise. The guys make little ooh and oh no sounds, getting the attention of more of the table.

Sebastian doesn’t bother even glancing at them. He locks eyes with Matt and refuses to let go.

“Matt,” he says, softer, cocking his head. “What?”

Matt runs the options in his head. He could: one, deny it all, even though his high school friends are there and someone is bound to point out that he’s a liar. Two, he could tell Sebastian the truth, that he kind of had a thing for him since they were kids and that was why he hated him so much at first. Three, he could stand up and leave right now, just full on run out of the restaurant and stop taking anyone’s calls. It would take, what? Six months, a year until everyone gave up and he could live a new life without any of these people to remind him of this moment.

As appealing as door number three seems, Matt’s pretty sure that since he’s spent the majority of his adulthood in a library bent over a desk and Sebastian is an unfortunately crazy fit deputy, the guy would catch up with him in half a block. The first option justrequires way too much faith that Sebastian will ignore a room full of people with the same story while he blushes and vehemently denies something super plausible.

Lord help him, thatmeans that Matt ends up with option number two being his only actual option.

“Did he seriously not know that you liked him?” Nick’s voice breaks through the whirlpool in his head. Matt swallows hard.

“Actually, no,” he answers. “But now he does.”

“Oh, shit,” Damien mumbles.

“Well, it doesn’t matter. They’re dating!” Even from his peripheral, Matt can see the way that Nick sweeps his arm across the table, gesturing towards them.

“True,” Sebastian says. He’s still looking at Matt, his face almost blank except for the earnest assurance in his eyes. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I had a bit of a crush on you,” Matt starts, only to be interrupted by the broad laughter of half the table. He sends glares randomly out, assuming whoever they land on deserves it.

Matt glances down at his lap, trying to keep his heart from leaping out. It’s beating so fast he’s wondering if it’ll ever stop or if it does stop, if it’ll stop completely.

One hand is thenunderneath his chin, lifting his head up so that Sebastian can look into his eyes and the other, the arm that was around the chair, falls so its on top of Matt’s shoulder.

He looks at him, eyes flickering across his face, and then he smiles—it’s one that barely lifts the corners of his mouth but spreads across his whole face anyway, his eyes widened and his skin practically radiating with its broad happiness. “If I hadn’t been such an asshole, I would have had a crush on you, too.”

He makes it another hour at the party, Sebastian’s fingers brushing down his arm or across his knuckles or at the nape of his neck. He makes it an hour of heart-clenching, mind-boggling interactions where the line between true and false, fake and real, blend and blur and Matt can’t separate these soft touches from the ones from last night, can’t see how that was real and this isn’t.

His head swims. He doesn’t know what’s real.

As quietly as he can, he excuses himself from the table, and slips away while Sebastian is in a heated conversation with Damien’s girlfriend about burgers of all things. He wants to run, his muscles burning with the desire to just sprint out, but he walks slowly towards the edge of the restaurant instead.

Matt pushes his way into the kitchen as calmly as he can, yanking at his tie as he goes. He can’t breathe, can’t do anything but hurt, and by the time he’s alone inside the kitchen, the party outside dimming a bit, Matt feels like he might be dying.

He swallows around the growing lump in his throat. His lungs are too full and squeezing too fast and his heart is running right alongside them. His organs are scared and beating, and he can feel his whole body scream and reject the thought that keeps pounding, pounding, pounding in his head.

The nerves he had at the beginning of the party are angrier now, mad that he’s been trying to push them aside all evening.

The thought that is growing bigger and louder and truer each time he tries to squirm away from it.

The thought that maybe, just maybe, he’s a little bit in love with Sebastian Anders.

His knees feel weak, and Matt throws out an arm, slapping the wall as he tries to lean against the concrete to get some help in standing. His own muscles try to fight against the idea that he’s in love with an arrogant, rude, sweet, loving, straight man that Matt never even wanted to see again.

He feels the past week encroach upon his space, each minute he spent with Sebastian running through his mind like a flip book that he’s desperately looking for an answer in. He didn’t mean to let this happen. He doesn’t know why he did any of it—why did he agree to go to Sebastian’s house that first time, or the second, or any of the other times? Agree to being fake dates at a wedding, kiss him, let himself be kissed, let himself be touched and held and—

Why did he do this?

He was drawn to Sebastian. He knew that. He’s always known that. Since he was a fifteen year old, making moon eyes at the broad shouldered stranger in the hallway, he’d known he was drawn to him. But this was different—he is a grown man, an adult. He didn’t have to let himself be sucked into this whirlpool, let himself be ruined by this man again.

But he did.

He did, and now he’s standing at his childhood best friend’s rehearsal dinner, his heart and head hurting in such bright unison that he can feel tears burning the edges of his eyes. He’s standing here, in love with Sebastian Anders, and it’s all his fault.

How could he have fallen in love in one week? It doesn’t make sense. One week isn’t long enough to even really get to know someone, let alone fall in love with them. One week is a pathetically short time. Matt fell in love in a pathetic, short way.

Then again. In some ways, Matt’s been falling in love with him since he was fifteen years old. In some ways, he’s fallen in love in the slowest way possible.

He’s never imagined pain quite so pointed and hot.

Matt feels like his breath is too far away and his heart is too big. He closes his eyes and tries to swallow around the hard stone-like panic that sits heavy in his throat.

The voices from the rehearsal dinner in the main room bleed into the kitchen. He can hear the laughter of his friends—his friends’ friends, his friends’ families. The laughter that is happy and whole and permeated with returned love.

Love that makes sense. Love that warms the chest in a nice, happy, winter evening by a fire kind of way. Love that bubbles happiness in the shape of laughter and holding hands and a wedding. Love that his friends deserve and love that doesn’t create an ache in his stomach so big that he feels like doubling over, arms wrapped around his waist just to keep himself together.

He didn’t mean for any of this to happen, and now he’s in love with the exact person he told himself he’d never let hurt him again.

The door to the kitchen swings open and Matt jolts up, gasping a little at the pain—he can’t believe this heartache is so physical, a deep hurt inside his stomach and chest and radiating down until his fingertips feel numb. He blinks through what he refuses to admit are tears and swallows again, trying to get his throat to work.

Drew closes the door behind him quickly and closes the space between them. He stops when he reaches the kitchen island that Matt now realizes he’s clutching onto. His hip presses against the edge and he crosses his arms. Matt wracks his brain for an appropriate apology but it dies in his mouth when he sees the open worry on his face.

“Hey,” Drew says, voice quiet enough that Matt almost has to lean closer to hear. “How’re you doing?”

“Oh, I’m good,” Matt lies. It’s pathetic and falls to the ground between them, but he keeps pressing, hoping it’ll sound real soon enough. “Just needed a breath. How’s your night going? Shouldn’t you be in there, enjoying the celebration?”

Drew quirks an eyebrow. “Is that deflection supposed to work?”

“What?” Matt says dumbly. He folds his arms across his waist, holding himself tightly. He still feels the prickle of tears, and his body is close to shivering, he’s trying so hard to hide the worry, but he needs to do better. This is Drew’s night and Drew’s night is Peter’s and Matt is not about to ruin Peter’s night. Not at all.

“Matt,” Drew says, tilting his head. “Why don’t we try this again, and you tell me what’s wrong?”

Matt shakes his head. “No, I’m good.”

Drew’s lips purse. Matt doesn’t think it should be this hard to convince a guy he barely knows that he’s all right. He might need to splash some water on his face before he goes back out there.

Drew turns so he’s no longer facing Matt, just looking at the wall. Matt pivots, too, and they’re shoulder to shoulder, just barely next to each other. For some reason, it makes him feel better.

“We don’t know each other,” Drew says in that same, quiet tone, “and I get that you might not want to talk to me. But we don’t know each other. And I really don’t know that cop you’re clearly upset about, so if you did want to talk, I’m about as impartial as you’re going to get in this town.”

Matt’s head whips to the side fast enough that his neck aches a bit in protest. “I’m not upset about Sebastian.”

“Dude,” Drew’s smirking wide enough that Matt can tell even from his profile. “You were upset about that guy the first time we met.”

“He’s annoying,” Matt grumbles, turning back to look at the wall. His arms raise so he’s less holding his stomach and more just crossing his arms across his chest. He can admit it’s a little petulant as long as no one asks him to confirm it out loud.

“Oh, almost definitely.” Drew agrees, nodding. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. He seems charming as hell, but no one is that charming without also being at least twice as annoying.”

Matt, even through the thick vibrating pain, grins at that. “Well, good point.”

“Listen,” Drew says. “I’m not about to pretend like I know what’s going on with you guys or with you, in general. But if you want to talk, well, then. You matter to Peter, so you might as well matter to me, too.”

For a second, Matt’s heart feels warm in the nicest way. The way that feels like friendship and family and he lets his shoulder press a bit on Drew’s, a silent acceptance of the olive branch offered to him.

“You two are good together,” Matt says.

Drew turns, raising an eyebrow. “You think? Thanks.”

“I do,” Matt says, dipping his head. “You’re a good guy, Drew.”

Drew’s face flushes and he looks away again. “You too, Matt.”

They stand in silence for a few minutes, until the familiarity of Drew’s presence wears in and Matt’s body stops trying to actively give up.

“Okay,” Matt pushes away from the island. “We’ve probably been gone long enough.”

Drew glares playfully. “Sure, you say that. You’re not the one everyone keeps asking questions.”

“True,” Matt smiles.

“Hey,” Drew catches Matt by the arm, stopping him on his way towards the door. “Let me ask something.”

“Okay.”

“You’re—that guy. You’re okay, right? It’s the okay kind of sad.”

Matt looks towards the door, letting, just for a second, the full weight of his feelings sit on his heart. It’s crushing and full. It hurts.

But underneath all that, there’s something bright. Bright with pain right now, but bright not because of pain. Bright because, no matter how much it hurts, Matt loves him.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Yes, it’s the okay kind of sad.”

Drew nods, dropping his arm, seemingly satisfied. “Let me know if you need anything. Let’s go brave the in-laws together, huh?”

Drew throws his arm around Matt’s shoulder, and the two leave the kitchen. Matt tries to hold onto the feeling of being seen, the feeling of belonging, that Drew’s friendship offers when they cross the threshold.

It flies away from him the second Sebastian looks up from who he is talking to, face brightening and lips spreading in the widest smile as soon as he spots Matt.

“The guy I’m telling you about,” he hears Sebastian say, jerking his thumb towards Matt.

Drew squeezes his shoulder before letting go, going back to his spot next to Peter while Matt crosses over to Sebastian.

He sits down as the unpleasant, angry heat engulfs him again. He lets his skin singe and his body burn. He’d rather be on fire than step away from Sebastian’s sun.