Jatt - Burning Bright, Part 1

The door to the Huntington Beach Apartments complex pushed inward, allowing a cold gust of wind to swirl into the building. Closely behind the wintry breeze appeared a man with a Mohawk and cold-reddened cheeks; he slipped inside, the door closing with a click behind him.

Johnny sighed as he shook the snowflakes from his hair. He was tired and frozen after grocery-shopping for an hour and then walking from the end of the parking lot to his "home," and he wanted nothing more than to disappear upstairs and burrow into his bed for days.

Instead, he found himself face-to-face with the middle-aged owner of the complex.

"Miss Draiman," he said, blinking. "Um. Hey!"

A sad smile crossed Miss Draiman's face; she observed Johnny's disheveled state and snow-dappled Mohawk with an expression that was both apologetic and vaguely amused.

"Good morning, Mr. Seward," she hummed after a pause.

"How are you feeling?" Johnny asked, genuinely concerned as he referred to her worsening arthritis.

"I'm fine, sweetheart," she chuckled. "Thank you. But I have some bad news…"

Johnny felt heat flush through his face. He really wasn't in the mood to hear of something dreadful after he already felt the urge to curl up and sleep for weeks, but he knew just by the sympathetic glimmer in Miss Draiman's eye that her news was important.

"Oh…?" he asked, lips twitching into a frown. The bags in his arms suddenly seemed to weigh a hundred pounds.

"Mhm. I'm afraid you'll need to evacuate the building and find somewhere else to stay until further notice."

"What?!" Johnny cried. His cheeks drained of color, mouth falling open with shock. Surely this was some sort of trick. "Miss Draiman - please, ma'am. You can't be serious. I don't know if I have anywhere to go right now! All my friends are busy with their own lives…"

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Seward," she said earnestly. "A pipe broke on the third floor and caused water to come in through the ceiling. We're not sure how long it's been coming through, but there was at least a foot of it covering the second floor earlier."

"Oh, wow," Johnny murmured, defeated. He didn't want to appear weak, but the sting of tears was hot against his eyelids. Where was he supposed to go…? "Well, um. Do you know how long it'll take to have the water cleared out and the pipe repaired?"

"I'm not sure. It just depends on the damage, really. It could take two days or it could take two months."

"Oh, I see," Johnny muttered. "Um… Is there any possible way I could run up and grab some stuff from my room?"

"Of course!" Miss Draiman assured, smiling softly. "Just be careful. The hardwood floors are slick."

"I will, ma'am," he said. "Thank you."

"Anytime, Johnny. And I apologize."

"Nah, it's fine," he sighed, waving an absentminded hand. Yet he could feel the prickle of cold, inexplicable fear and disdain opening in his chest like ice-flowers.

xoxox

Johnny forced most of his closet and several bathroom necessities into his suitcase, which was drenched in cold water from the broken piping. He then gathered up his laptop and cell phone (thankfully untouched), left the newly bought groceries on the kitchen counter, and turned to once more hurry into the hallway.

The water in the second floor had swelled well past one foot deep. It soaked into Johnny's jeans up to nearly his hips, freezing him to his core. He pushed through the miniature ocean with a scowl and countless curses.

"Just my luck," he muttered, "So much for coming home to a warm apartment and a cozy bed…"

He turned a corner and saw the staircase ahead. A flutter of relief pulsed through his chest; at least he had managed to escape the second floor unscathed.

Then, as he passed beneath a light fixture, an odd creaking noise sounded in his ears. He paused.

"Um." Johnny glanced around the corridor, confused. Then it registered: the tiny, hollow-sounding crack came from over his head. He looked up just in time to see a spider-web of crevices appearing in the ceiling, caused by the weight of the water gathering above it. "Shi - "

Whoosh.

The cracks split open under pressure, and from them poured what felt like gallons of ice-cold water. Straight onto Johnny's head, nonetheless.

"God dammit!" he howled. He scrubbed at the water spilling over his face from his collapsed Mohawk, ignoring the shivers that began to race through him from the unnatural chill. "This is bullshit. Stupid apartment… Stupid pipe… Stupid frigging bad luck…"

Johnny stomped down the staircase and toward the door with heavy feet.

"Uh - Johnny," Miss Draiman started, and the narrow-eyed bassist simply raised his hand.

"I'll see you later, ma'am," he grumbled. "Thanks for everything."

Miss Draiman had no time to respond before Johnny disappeared out the door, suitcase and laptop clutched in hands that were white-knuckled with anger. He jogged to his car through the wintry chill; his luggage was thrown into the trunk, laptop nestled safely into the passenger seat.

Johnny dropped into the driver's side with the cold, prickling sensation of emptiness in his chest. He held the steering wheel, gaze trained on the windshield, and yet he made no move to press his keys into the ignition and start the '02 Mustang.

Several minutes passed in silence. Finally, Johnny reached with shaky fingers into his hoodie pocket and retrieved his phone - which was thankfully in good shape, besides a light trace of dampness on its screen.

"Where do I go?" he asked himself, staring at the unlit device. "Everyone has things to do…"

He opened his Address Book and began to scroll through the names, making a mental checklist of everyone who had better things to do than house him for God-knows-how-long.

Arin… Brent… Brian… Fred… Jason… Jimmy… Joshua… Larry…

Johnny sighed and slapped a hand over his face. He could feel goose pimples rising on his skin, brought forth by the combination of a water-soaked sweatshirt and the winter breeze filtering into his car.

He was in desperate need of warmth and dry clothes.

"Fuck it," he sighed, and clicked over the first name his thumb glided across - Matt.

He mulled over what to text for a moment, and finally settled with, I'll be there in 5. Explain later.

Once his phone was nestled into the center console and the car idled beneath him, keys safely in ignition, Johnny tipped his head back to allow a moment of slow breathing. Thoughts swirled through his head in vivid tornadoes; the most prominent seemed to something along the lines of, Best day ever.

"What the hell did I get myself into?" he groaned, and shook his head before pulling out of the lot.

xoxox

"Calm down, Johnny," he said to himself as he drove, thumbing over the radio dial before settling on an old Motley Crue track. "Think happy thoughts… If those even exist for me anymore."

Johnny shook his head and allowed his mind to drift as he drove.

He'd had a crush on his friend Matt for nearly five years. It was hard not to, considering the older man's bright eyes and dimples and wide, glittering smile that never failed to make his heart beat faster. Johnny figured it was understandable that he had opted to go to Matt for help because of that. And yet a thousand doubts and fears rushed through his head.

How long would he stay with Matt?

Would his feelings get the best of him in the end?

Would he do something stupid?

Did Matt even want Johnny in his home?

Johnny had no time to consider turning back and going somewhere else despite the hammering of his heart, for his car rolled smoothly into the driveway of a pleasantly plump white house with neat red shutters upon instinct.

He bit his lip when he noticed that Matt was already seated on his porch swing, presumably waiting for the younger man's arrival. He was wrapped in a thick jacket, the hood pulled over his forehead and a dimpled smile gracing his face.

"Hey!" he called upon seeing the Mustang now idling in front of his house.

Johnny could see even from a distance that Matt's expression was distorted with confusion, his eyebrows drawn together and forehead creased. He bit his lip before stepping out of the car.

"Hi," he said, offering a shy wave. "Um… S - sorry if I'm i-i-interrupting anything." He wasn't able to suppress the tremors in his voice; the icy cold of winter wrapped around him, soaking through his water-drenched hoodie and into his very bones.

"You're not," Matt chuckled with a shake of his head. His hands were shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, clenching and unclenching from either the cold or emotion - Johnny wasn't sure which. "So what's with the unexpected visit, Jay?"

"M - My apartment's being f-f-flooded and I had t - to leave," he said, tipping his head down.

"For how long?"

"I'unno. H - however long it t-t-takes to fix the pipe…"

Johnny was shaking hard now, his skin red and raised with gooseflesh. His thick hoodie (now drenched) was no match for the combination of cold, dripping wetness, and wind.

Matt sighed and turned back toward his front door.

Johnny's heart leapt into his throat, and he wondered for a moment if Matt would just leave him outside to freeze. But then he saw a pair of sparkling hazel eyes turn over Matt's shoulder, followed by a to-die-for smile and dimples.

"Well, come on," he laughed gruffly, "I'm freezing my balls off out here."

Johnny grinned and hurried after Matt, who politely held the door open to allow his guest entrance into the cozily heated living room of his house.

"T - thanks for this," Johnny said softly.

"It's no problem." Matt offhandedly flicked his wrist, then turned for a moment to observe the sitcom flashing across his television screen.

As Matt was distracted, Johnny slipped his fingers beneath the hem of his hoodie and pulled it over his head. He couldn't stand feeling the thick, wet material cling to his frozen skin any longer. Once it was off, he simply rolled it up and waited shyly for Matt to once more look at him.

"Hey, do you - " Matt paused. Slowly, his eyes slid over the dripping planes of Johnny's chest, down to his sodden jeans, then flicked up to note how the younger man's Mohawk was plastered to his skull with water. "Holy hell, man. Why didn't you tell me you were wet?! God, I didn't even notice…"

Johnny blushed, feeling the tremors continue to ripple through him despite his lack of a shirt.

"S - sorry, I should've s-s-said something," he mumbled nervously.

Matt turned toward the staircase, a grin on his lips despite the obvious concern swirling through his eyes. He turned to flash Johnny a questioning stare once he was nearly to the second floor of his home.

"I'll be back in a minute," he assured, "I'm just gonna grab some clothes."

He reappeared moments later with a thermal shirt, jeans, and a sweatshirt that looked like it would eat the younger man with its sheer bulk.

"Sorry about the size," Matt said, handing off the clothes to Johnny, "I didn't have anything smaller…"

"Nah, it's f - fine," Johnny chuckled. He could feel the small, shy smile curling over his lips as Matt's hand pressed warmly into his lower back to guide him toward the bathroom. "At l - least they'll m-m-make me warmer, right?"

Matt laughed softly and, with a dimpled grin, said, "I'll go start some hot chocolate. You want marshmallows?"

"Yes, please," Johnny sang. "And th - thanks, Matt."

"Any time." Matt smiled once more before softly shutting the bathroom door behind his guest.

Anxious to be rid of the shivers wracking his body, Johnny hurriedly stripped from his jeans and boxers - which were also soaked and glued to his flesh. He then slid Matt's warm, too-large clothes on with a loving sigh, inhaling the sweetly familiar scents of cinnamon, leather, and rosemary.

Johnny glanced at himself in the mirror once he was dressed and wasn't able to suppress a giggle.

Matt's jeans were far too long on him; the denim flowed past his feet in thick waves. The thermal shirt hung past his fingertips, and the sweatshirt's hood hung to his chin when he pulled it experimentally over his head.

He rubbed his hair dry with a towel, then tossed it into a hamper before carefully smoothing the collapsed Mohawk across one side of his skull. Once he was satisfied, he passed himself a shy smile in the mirror and then pushed open the bathroom door to find Matt.

"Mm," he said softly to himself, "Something smells good."

Matt's head appeared around the kitchen doorframe, his beatific grin snapped into place.

"Thanks! I'm making the hot chocolate," he assured.

"It smells great," Johnny chuckled.

Matt nodded before disappearing once more into the kitchen.

Johnny hovered nervously behind him in the door, face flushed and fingertips winding absentminded knots into the extra fabric of his borrowed thermal shirt. The sight of his long-time love and friend busying himself with hot cocoa, hips swaying in a slight dance and eyes shimmering, caused Johnny's chest to flutter.

"You wanted marshmallows in your drink, right?" Matt asked, snapping the younger man out of his trance.

Johnny blushed and nodded, a light giggle on his lips when he noticed Matt's coffee mugs; one was red and printed with the words Merry Fucking Christmas, and the other boldly displayed a jolly-looking Santa Claus with a rifle in his hands.

"Cute," he hummed.

Matt laughed softly, huskily, then shook his head at the holiday mugs.

"Thanks," he murmured, "Brian gave them to me a few years ago. Said he thought they'd fit me since I don't exactly have a lot of Christmas cheer. You know; too much hassle to me."

"Right," Johnny said, smiling as he shyly nodded his head.

He couldn't help but to become a different person around Matt, quieter and more soft-spoken. The older man was simply that good, and it took no effort for him to tie Johnny's tongue into knots and fill his stomach with raging butterflies.

"Here," Matt crooned after a moment. He handed off the blue mug, grinning when Johnny accepted it with a grateful twitch of his lips and a sigh. "Hope it's not too hot."

Johnny sipped at the edge, feeling a delighted moan swell into his throat. His lashes fluttered from the combination of searing warmth in his throat and chocolate on his taste buds. It felt as though the numbness in his fingertips began to dissipate instantly.

"It's perfect," he said with a soft, contented chuckle. "Now I don't feel so fuckin' frostbitten."

Matt chortled before grabbing his own mug in large, careful hands. There was a gleam in his eye when he turned back to Johnny, and the younger man offered him a smile.

"Wanna watch TV?" Matt asked. "I think The Messengers is coming on in a few minutes."

"Sounds great," Johnny assured, and felt his heart flutter at the thought of curling up next to Matt on a cold winter afternoon to watch horror movies.

Maybe, he thought happily to himself, today won't be so bad after all.

xoxox

Matt and Johnny had worked their way through only a quarter of The Messengers before Matt glanced up, a warmly concerned glimmer in his hazel-green eyes.

"What?" Johnny asked him.

A light smile curved over Matt's lips. He reached up, slow and carefully hesitant, and touched a knuckle to the swell of Johnny's cheek. The smirk on his mouth faded almost instantly.

"Jay," he said with a note of worry, "you're still cold."  

"Well," Johnny mumbled, blushing faintly, "Um… I mean, my face is still a little chilled but - "

"I can't let you be cold!" Matt interrupted, smiling once more at his own playful chivalry. He settled his half-empty mug onto the coffee table before sitting back to stare pointedly at Johnny. "If you go into the utility room and grab a towel and washcloth, I'll start a hot shower for you. Sound good?"

"Sounds awesome," Johnny laughed after a slight pause.

Matt chuckled and stood, waiting until his guest had followed suit before disappearing into the bathroom to presumably begin warming up the water.

Johnny grabbed a soft, cream-colored towel and a matching cloth from the utility room at the end of the hall. He took a moment to collect his thoughts then, blushing at the memory of Matt's beautifully concerned hazel eyes and gentle smile.

"God, I love him," he whispered to himself.

With the cloths bundled to his chest and a grin on his lips, Johnny turned out of the utility room. He could hear water thrumming against tiles from the bathroom across the hall; it was an inviting sound, one that made his smile widen at the thought of heated water spilling across his skin.

"Matt?" he murmured upon poking his head into the bathroom.

Matt grinned.

"Hey!" he said, laughing lightly, "Thanks for grabbing the stuff. Your shower's pretty much ready, so go ahead and get in whenever you want to."

Johnny gasped as he stepped into the bathroom. Steam rolled through the gap in the shower curtain, filling the spacious room and covering the mirror in a light film. Sweat gathered against Johnny's temples within five minutes; the humidity was unbearable.

"Too hot?" Matt asked, tongue poked between his lips in a dumbfounded expression.

"No," Johnny chuckled softly, "It feels perfect. Thank you."

"I figured you'd like it really warm," Matt said with a beautifully gentle smile.

"I do." Johnny nodded, then felt a blush crawl into his cheeks when he noticed that Matt remained in the doorway. Slowly, he dipped his fingertips beneath the hem of the borrowed sweatshirt and bit his lip.

"Oh!" Matt laughed at the sight of his flushed guest, "Sorry. Just call me if you need anything."

"Got it," Johnny said softly.

Matt closed the door behind him as he stepped into the hall, but he wasn't quick enough to hide the oddly emotional glimmer in his hazel-green eyes.