PARTY ON YOU
I hadn't stepped into a theme park in years—and now I regretted it the second I saw the spinning teacups.
Brice, of course, was living for this.
"Therapy is expensive," he said, pulling down his sunglasses with flair. "But trauma recovery via roller coasters? Free if you scream loud enough."
Zeke snorted. "Healing through near-death loops. We should trademark that."
Matt was already at the gates, holding up the group tickets like a proud tour leader-slash-boyfriend. He had a tote bag full of water bottles, emergency snacks, sunscreen, and wet wipes—because he was Matt Cohen and over preparedness was his love language.
"Ready to experience healing through adrenaline and public embarrassment?" he grinned.
"Are you always this cheerful in the morning?" I asked.
"No, just when I know you'll be forced to sit next to me on a Ferris wheel and share your feelings."
Brice clapped once. "Okay, couple rides! Nate, Matt—you're obviously together."
Before I could protest, Matt was already sliding into the pastel-blue Ferris wheel cart, tapping the seat beside him with a smirk.
"Come on, Rae. Unless you want to ride alone and contemplate your feelings with altitude sickness."
I grumbled but sat beside him, arms crossed, not making eye contact. The cart rose with a creak, the park below shrinking, the sounds dimming, the air cooler.
Matt leaned back, watching the horizon. "I love the view here."
I glanced sideways. "Yeah?"
He turned his head slowly toward me. "Yeah. Especially right now."
My heart did something weird. Like it tripped over a shoelace and pretended to be casual.
Brice led us to the haunted house next, giggling like it was Christmas morning.
"I'm not scared of these things," I told Matt casually as we stepped inside.
"Oh really?" Matt raised a brow.
"Yes, Matt. I've watched every horror movie known to man."
We walked five steps in. A bloodied nun flew out from the ceiling screaming in Latin.
I leapt three feet in the air and grabbed Matt's arm with the grip of a man fighting death itself.
"THAT WASN'T LATIN!" I screamed. "THAT WAS THE LANGUAGE OF MY NIGHTMARES!"
Matt was crying laughing. "You said you weren't scared!"
"I LIED."
Another jump scare—a zombie crawling from a trapdoor—sent me slamming into Matt's side like a linebacker.
Somehow, I ended up half in his hoodie, one leg wrapped around his, like a baby koala gripping for safety.
"Protect me!" I shouted.
"You're literally bigger than me!"
A banshee screamed in the next corridor. I screamed back louder.
Brice was outside by the time we emerged, doubled over and wheezing. "That was the greatest five minutes of my life."
Matt handed me a bottle of water while I clutched my chest like I needed an exorcist.
"I'm okay," I gasped. "My dignity is not, but I'm okay."
"You sure?" Matt grinned. "Because I'm pretty sure you tried to crawl into my shirt."
"I blacked out. I don't remember anything."
We passed a gift shop and Matt dragged me inside like a kid in a candy store.
He grabbed two ridiculous animal headbands—his a sleepy panda, mine a pink bunny with glitter ears.
"Nope," I said flatly.
"Yep," he replied, putting the bunny one on my head without warning.
I looked in the mirror.
I hated how cute it looked.
"Don't," I warned.
Matt took a selfie. "Too late."
Ten minutes later, we were in a photo booth. The first few shots were normal—then he made me laugh in the middle of one. The last printout showed me laughing...and Matt, eyes on me, quietly holding my hand.
I stared at it longer than I meant to.
After a rollercoaster that rearranged my soul, we got off and realized—our friends were gone.
"Where did they go?" I blinked.
Matt checked his phone. "They ditched us. Said something about 'letting the bunnies bond.'"
He shrugged and bought us both ice cream.
I was halfway through mine when it started dripping down my hand.
Matt offered his napkin with a small smile. "You're such a mess."
"Excuse you. I'm adorable."
"You're a melting disaster."
We wandered, fireworks starting in the sky. I could hear kids laughing, carousel music faint in the background.
It was oddly perfect.
I looked over.
He was already looking at me.
Like I was the ride he never wanted to get off.
And somehow, I didn't mind the chaos anymore.
Especially not if it meant screaming in haunted houses, melting ice cream, and Matt Cohen Reyes at my side.
__________
Ciandrei burst into the condo like he owned the place, dropping his bag by the door and shouting, "IT'S TIME FOR A CONDO TAKEOVER!"
Zeke, already raiding Matt's fridge, yelled from the kitchen, "Why does he have twelve jars of strawberry jam and only one egg?!"
Luther was busy spinning in Matt's computer chair, holding a speaker above his head like it was The Lion King.
"Alexa, play chaotic energy," Brice said, dramatically flopping on the couch and putting his feet up like royalty.
Jake stood in the corner, hands on his hips. "Guys, don't break anything! He'll kill us!"
"Oh relax, Mr. Rulebook," Brice replied, grabbing a pack of snacks and tossing it toward Jake's chest. "The king and his bunny aren't home—time to party."
Jake caught the snacks, but not before they hit his shoulder. "You throw like a disappointed auntie."
"And you look like one when you pout," Brice snapped back with a grin. The living room was a disaster zone of pillows, instant noodles, open snacks, and half-finished bubble tea. Zeke was DJ-ing the TV with random TikTok sounds on loop. Ciandrei was giving Luther a makeover using Nate's skincare products. Brice was doing a "lip sync for your life" performance in Matt's robe and fluffy slippers. Jake? Trying desperately to vacuum while dodging flying socks and a rogue potato chip bag.
"WHY is there glitter in my water?!" Jake shrieked.
Ciandrei. "It's edible glitter. You're welcome."
Jake, finally giving up, slumped on the armrest of the couch, watching Brice dance around to some overly dramatic pop ballad.
"You know," Jake said, brushing glitter off his shirt, "you're the most exhausting person I've ever met."
Brice spun mid-dance, striking a pose with Matt's mic stand. "And you still show up every time. Why's that, Officer Jake?"
Jake blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Because...I don't know. I guess I like disasters."
Brice raised a brow, sauntering closer, lips curled into a smirk. "Flirt better, babe. That was barely a compliment."
Jake grinned. "Fine. I like this disaster."
Brice stopped in front of him, fingers resting on Jake's chest, playful glint in his eyes.
"Careful," he whispered. "Say one more sweet thing and I might let you do my eyeliner next time."
Jake chuckled. "Deal. But only if you don't throw anything else at me today."
"No promises," Brice said, already tossing a marshmallow at his forehead.
Luther, now wrapped in a leopard-print towel like a diva, raised his drink. "To the best unauthorized condo chaos of the year!"
Everyone cheered, spilling drinks and laughter everywhere.
Somewhere far away, Matt probably sneezed without knowing why.
And in the middle of all the madness, Jake quietly watched Brice laugh across the room, the tiniest smile tugging at his lips.
Even chaos looked kinda beautiful when Brice was in it.
__________
As the elevator dinged on the penthouse floor, Nate stretched his arms with a yawn. "Honestly... best cinema date ever. But I swear if my legs fall off tomorrow, it's your fault."
Matt chuckled, slinging an arm lazily over Nate's shoulder. "C'mon, it was barely three hours. You didn't even sleep this time" both of them just let out a chuckle.
They reached the front door—and paused.
Because from the hallway... they heard screaming. And music. And what sounded like... a vacuum cleaner dying?
Matt narrowed his eyes. "Tell me that's not my speaker playing 'Barbie Girl.'"
Nate blinked. "...Is that Ciandrei yelling about contour blending?"
Matt unlocked the door.
The living room looked like it had been hit by a glam rock tornado.
Pillows everywhere. Glitter on the couch. Makeup smeared on the mirror. A half-dead plant now decorated with fairy lights and a bra. Brice was dancing in Matt's oversized hoodie, holding a broom like a guitar. Jake and Luther were playing a questionable drinking game involving jelly beans and dares. Ciandrei had turned Nate's skincare fridge into a mini drink bar.
Matt froze. Nate took a slow step back like he was about to run.
Matt, voice dangerously low: "What. The. Actual. Hell."
Everyone turned.
Brice: "WELCOME HOME!"
Zeke, raising a cup: "We cleaned! Kind of!"
Matt dropped his keys. "Why is my cactus wearing eyeshadow?"
Jake: "Technically, it's highlighter. Brice said it needed to pop."
Matt's voice went a few octaves higher: "You gave a plant a glow-up?!"
Matt stormed into the room like a dramatic reality show villain.
He picked up his throw pillow, now stained with what looked like cheese dust. "Who brought chips onto my white couch?!"
Luther shrugged. "We were bonding."
Ciandrei: "Honestly, you should thank us. The vibe is more alive now."
Matt turned to Brice, eyes twitching. "Is that... my robe?!"
Brice, twirling: "You left it hanging. I took it as a 'please slay in this' sign."
Matt spun to Nate. "Do something. Your friends are monsters."
Nate just clapped his hands. "Guys, cleanup in aisle Matt."
Matt: "This isn't a grocery store!"
Jake tried to quietly sneak out to avoid the yelling.
Matt caught him. "Where do you think you're going?"
Jake held up the vacuum. "To... return this to its charger?"
Matt: "IT'S UNPLUGGED AND STILL MAKING NOISE!"
Everyone suddenly froze when the speaker blasted a TikTok remix of "Let It Go."
Matt ripped the aux cord.
Matt: "I leave for one day. ONE. And I come home to a crime scene of snacks, karaoke, and cross-dressed succulents!"
Brice: "You should've locked the door, diva."
Matt: "I did! Who has the spare key?!"
Everyone slowly turned to Nate.
Matt: "...You gave them the spare key?!"
Nate looked innocent. "They said it was for emergencies."
Brice: "This was an emergency. We ran out of chips."
Matt collapsed onto the floor in despair, glitter puffing up around him like confetti.
Nate walked over, squatting beside him with a cheeky grin. "I mean... it's kind of cute."
Matt squinted at him. "You're lucky I like you."
Nate leaned in and kissed his cheek. "I know."
Meanwhile, Brice took a photo of them surrounded by the wreckage. "Perfect. Caption: 'Relationship goals. Chaos included.'"
Matt threw a pillow at him.
Pillow fight initiated.
Glitter flew. Someone turned the speaker back on.
It was the weirdest, loudest, most chaotic welcome home ever.
But somehow, in the middle of it—
It felt like family.
___________
AFTER TWO WEEKS
The clock blinked past 1:17 AM.
Nate stood silently at the doorway of Matt's music studio, watching the man he loved hunched over his desk, headphones on, scribbling notes, playing something back for the fifth time.
Three days in a row—same thing. Rehearsals. Album launch prep. Back-to-back shoots. Two gigs this week. Three new brand endorsements. And now? A late-night collab with a rising artist, still unfinished.
Matt hadn't noticed Nate yet.
Nate didn't mind.
He entered quietly, a takeout bag in one hand and Matt's favorite sports drink in the other. He set them down on the couch nearby, then gently tapped Matt's shoulder.
Matt turned, startled, eyes tired. "Rae... I thought you were asleep."
"I was. Then I woke up. And you weren't beside me again."
Matt opened his mouth to apologize, but Nate just shook his head with a small smile. "Eat."
"You didn't have to—"
"Eat," Nate repeated, firmer this time.
Matt chuckled under his breath, tugging off his headphones. "What would I do without you?"
Nate shrugged, eyes soft. "Probably die of exhaustion. Or worse—release an unfinished chorus."
Matt looked at him, that kind of look that held more than words ever could. Nate walked over, kissed the top of his head gently, and sat down beside him as Matt opened the food.
And even though he was buried in deadlines, Matt reached for Nate's hand underneath the desk.
They sat like that—tired fingers intertwined, music playing softly in the background, hearts full in the middle of a storm.
And Nate thought, You can be as busy as the world needs you to be... I'll still be right here.
The takeout container sat nearly empty between them, and Nate had leaned his head against Matt's shoulder, half-dozing, lulled by the soft loop playing on the studio monitors.
Matt didn't want to move. Not tonight. Not now.
Then his phone buzzed.
Once.
Twice.
And then a third time—his manager's name glowing insistently on the screen.
Matt sighed. "I should take this."
Nate lifted his head sleepily. "Go."
Matt kissed his temple before rising and walking a few steps away, pressing the phone to his ear.
"Khun Matt," his manager said, already breathless. "Big news."
Matt blinked. "At 1:30 a.m.?"
"It couldn't wait. It's confirmed. You've been invited to headline a world tour—eight countries, multiple major cities, full team support, all expenses and production handled."
Matt didn't speak.
"This is it. The thing you've been building toward. Labels are watching. Streaming partners are already interested. You leave in six weeks."
He still didn't speak.
"Matt?"
"...That's fast."
"It's the industry. Fast means you're hot."
Matt nodded slowly, though his chest had begun to tighten. "Can I... think about it?"
"Of course. But not too long. The tour's aligned with your album and global marketing campaign. It's everything you've worked for."
He hung up.
And stood there, facing away from Nate.
Nate's voice broke the silence. "You're leaving, aren't you?"
Matt turned slowly.
Nate hadn't moved from the couch. He wasn't even looking at him—just staring at the now-dark monitor, fingers twisted in the hem of his hoodie.
"I haven't said yes," Matt said softly.
Nate looked up at him now, eyes tired but steady. "But you will."
Matt walked over, kneeling in front of him, hands on Nate's knees. "Not if it means I lose you."
"You're not going to lose me, Matt." Nate forced a smile. "But if you stay, you'll lose everything you've worked for. I'm not going to let that happen."
Matt looked at him like he was memorizing him. "We just got okay again."
"I know."
"I just... got you again."
"I know," Nate repeated, voice thinner now.
Matt's voice cracked. "I don't want to do this long-distance thing again, Rae."
"You won't be. We'll call. We'll talk. We'll... we'll figure it out." Nate smiled gently. "Besides, you're not going off to war. You're singing in stadiums."
Matt didn't laugh.
And neither did Nate.
Because they both knew the truth: even love doesn't always protect you from distance.
Matt leaned forward, resting his forehead against Nate's. "Promise me you won't disappear again."
"I should be the one asking that."
They stayed like that for a while. Breathing. Afraid to break the quiet.
And in that silence, both of them realized—
Success was coming.
And so was separation.
___________
Matt's suitcase lay open on the bed. Neatly folded black and white shirts lined the left half. A few pairs of jeans, stage boots, his favorite cologne.
Nate sat cross-legged on the floor, handing him a tangled chain bracelet. "You're bringing this?"
Matt smirked, taking it gently. "You gave it to me, didn't you?"
"You lost it twice," Nate deadpanned.
"I found it both times." Matt leaned down and kissed his hair before zipping one compartment shut.
The silence between them wasn't tense—it was full. Filled with the things neither of them wanted to say too early.
At 10 p.m., they wandered a half-empty grocery store.
Matt pushed the cart. Nate tossed in a bag of coffee beans. "So you won't forget how I like it."
"You think I'd forget how to make your coffee?" Matt raised a brow.
Nate teased, "You forget your own lyrics sometimes."
Matt bumped the cart gently into him. "Fair."
They bought instant noodles, some candy, and a new toothbrush for Nate—just because. It felt stupid and wonderful and temporary.
________
The night before his flight, Matt stood on a small platform in a cozy rooftop bar. His bandmates tuned up in the back. The crowd was intimate—close friends, some fans, and Nate tucked at the front corner table with Brice and Jake.
"This next one's not on the album," Matt said into the mic. "I wrote it recently... for someone who reminded me that love can be quiet but still loud enough to echo."
Everyone clapped.
Nate didn't.
He just looked at him.
Matt sang like he wasn't flying out the next morning. Like time could pause mid-chord.
When the final note fell away, the rooftop was hushed—then broke into applause.
Nate clapped, but his eyes shimmered.
_________
They cooked together, for once.
Nate burned the onions. Matt added too much salt. They argued over whether the rice was done. The meal was a little too spicy, but they still ate like it was their last supper.
Because in a way, it was.
Nate wiped sauce off Matt's cheek with his thumb.
Matt kissed his wrist in return.
No words were needed.
In bed, wrapped in the same blanket, they didn't talk much.
Nate's head rested on Matt's chest, listening to his heartbeat like it might change.
Matt whispered into his hair, "You'll still be here, right? When I come back."
Nate didn't say yes.
But he nodded, just once.
Matt pulled him closer. "I love you."
And in the stillness of the room, Nate whispered, "I love you, too."
Neither of them cried that night.
But sleep came slow.
//