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I Don't Even Care About You (Except I Do)

Summary:

Matt’s one rule he made at the start of all this mess was to not form connections. There was no need to grow fond of things you may lose or people who could hurt you in several ways. Hell, he even told his spy the same thing. But Smitty wasn’t as strong as Matt, it was a risky move to take Smitty on as his double agent for his own survival. Smitty grew close to the others, breaking their pact and especially breaking Matt’s rule. There was a punishment for this betrayal.

Matt was solid in his statement; there was no fucking use for friendships in the apocalypse.

So when he was suddenly feeling conflicted over Puffer being ambushed and attacked, it made him have an outburst.

“Why the fuck do I care so much?”

Loosely inspired by: I Don’t Even Care About You by MISSIO && I Don’t Give A… by MISSIO
Frog House Apocalypse AU credit goes to @honeyydisc on Twitter/AO3!

Work Text:

Morning light shines through the spaces in between the boards nailed over the window. Shards of broken glass glisten with the first rays of the sun for the day. A single reflection hits just right against his scruffy face, waking him up much earlier than he would’ve liked. The man lets out a grumble and attempts to bury his face further into the sleeping bag to escape the day that’s just begun. Yet another Tuesday has come around in this never-ending routine of life. 

Morning came too fast yet again. Matt hates this routine.

It’s the same repetitive pattern every fucking day. Wake up at the ass crack of dawn. Puffer and Pezzy hold a group meeting over breakfast. They discuss the plan for the day; usually involves half the group leaving to raid a building while the others stay back and keep watch. Matt and Smitty sneak off to do their own private scavenging before everyone meets back up for dinner that evening. A routine supply check. Arguing over who’s staying up to keep watch that night. Climb back into his sleeping bag and hope the weight of living allows him to have just a few moments of peaceful solitude. 

The only time Matt breaks his routine is when it involves Puffer. He despises that their self-proclaimed leader has started to become an exception to his own rule for survival. 

When Droid came bursting through the door, breathless and yelling for the first aid kit, Matt thought the dumbass got another pointless injury and was overreacting. The blonde left his place at the kitchen counter, taking refuge in his room. Leaving his door open just enough to see down the hall at the chaos that was about to ensue. What Matt didn’t anticipate was hearing the leader of their group cry out in pain after being shoved onto the couch, immediately staining the ugly green cushions. 

Matt knew it was pointless to worry, they’d been through worse situations. But he could feel his stomach tying into knots over the sounds of anguish coming from the other room. His heart cracks ever so slightly at the whimper Puffer lets out as John begins to disinfect the wound. He desperately wanted to ignore the others, and get back on track with his mundane routine for once in his life. Anything to avoid having to listen to the overwhelming noises of pain and comfort flooding down the hall from the living room. 

Seeing Smitty suddenly rush out the front door of the house made Matt curious. Then when he remembered the matching nail polish John and Smitty have been wearing, it made more sense. Smitty was worried about how John was doing, being one of the only people good at first aid in the group despite his partial vision. Matt decided to get up and sneak out the door, telling himself he was doing it to speak to Smit, not to get out of the house that was starting to suffocate him. 

The blonde isn’t entirely sure what went wrong in his life to leave him so trigger-happy, to make him crave the cold isolation opposed to the warm embrace of another person. All he knows is that if he wants to survive this apocalypse, the best thing to do is to ignore his feelings and build his walls up even higher. 

Right?

Sometimes emotions cause people to act on impulse, making them commit sins that they may not always want to do. Bottling up your feelings can cloud your mind, twisting your perspective on how you deal with situations. Keeping your guard up high makes you unreadable, yet predictable. People perceive you as cold, angry, depressed, and maybe even borderline insane. Closing yourself off from others can put you in dangerous situations, both internally and externally.

And sometimes that leads to you shooting your spy in the thigh because you’re jealous. Jealous over the fact he can let down his walls enough to form relationships easily.

Sure Matt had other reasons for shooting Smitty, it was only fair to deliver some form of punishment to the man for breaking the rule he set in place. But deep down he could feel himself growing attached to Smitty, just as he was growing fond of Puffer. 

It disgusted him. 

Internal rage blinded his thoughts. He left Smitty there to bleed out, he didn’t care. He had to make himself not care. It was the right thing to do. 

He didn’t anticipate there being another ambush in the woods. He didn’t anticipate Droid and Pezzy getting hurt. He isn’t even sure what happened, all Matt knows is when he finally returns to their base that evening, the living room is a disaster . He sneaks in through the back door and does his best to go unnoticed, just wanting to crawl into his sleeping bag and avoid the thunderstorm within his mind.

Gauze and bandages are scattered all over the floor, and various snack packs and makeshift medicines cover the kitchen table. A sleeping bag with random paint splatters on it covers the floor. John sits on it leaning against the cabinets with his arms wrapped around a sleeping Smitty, tear tracks visible on the injured man’s resting face. Matt doesn’t bother looking at the wound, he knows the damage he’s done is irreversible. ‘Fuckin’ can’t stand the two of them together.’

Matt’s mind starts to spiral again as he sees Droid and Pezzy tending to each other’s wounds at the kitchen table. That wasn’t an unusual sight, but he did notice the two of them sat much closer than he remembers seeing them. ‘More connections. People just don’t know how to survive…’ Neither man acknowledge his presence. Grizzy is nowhere to be seen, but Matt assumes he’s probably checking their supplies. Suddenly they appear to be short on first aid stuff, wonder why?

The sight that nearly breaks down all of Matt’s walls is seeing the living room. There’s a blood trail from the front door to the couch, at this point in the evening, he’s not sure which person it belongs to. Puffer lays shirtless on the one sofa, his entire chest has been bandaged up. A few other scrapes here and there cover his body. Matt sees that someone took Puffer’s glasses off and set them on the coffee table with the leftover medical supplies. ‘He looks peaceful without his glasses…’

The blonde physically shakes his head to rid himself of that thought. As he starts to turn to go down the hall to his room, a quiet groan escapes the man on the couch.

“...-att?”

The voice sounds frail, raspiness covers the words like a thick blanket. Matt stands his ground and keeps his back turned away from the couch. He didn’t realize how close he was still standing to it however until there was a light tug on his sweatpants. Glancing down he can see Puffer’s hand reaching out towards him for comfort, for support. 

Under his breath, Matt mumbles, “Why the fuck do I care so much? I don’t even know why-”

His words were cut short by another pained noise coming from Puffer. Extending his arm out to grab Matt’s leg caused white hot pain to bloom from his chest once more but he didn’t care. Puffer was to hurt to care about his pride, his pain. He just wanted comfort in the form of a trigger-happy misfit who causes more trouble than what he’s worth keeping around for. 

“Matt, please…stay with me…” The brunette’s voice was soft as he spoke, dripping with a not-so-hidden plea toward Matt. The tone was enough to push through the crack in Matt’s guard, a moment of weakness gripping at his heart as he fights with himself on what to do next.

“What do you want, Puffer?” Matt tried to bite back with his usual snappy remarks but couldn’t find it in himself to be rude, not to Puffer, not right now. 

He finally turned around and the walls came crashing down. Puffer had shuffled himself around painfully on the couch, making enough room for another person to lay down next to him. Matt’s heart sank to his stomach; it had been so long since he’s even hugged someone, let alone slept next to them. 

Puffer spoke once more, his words slightly more confident this time around. “Stay with me, I…not like that, just- I don’t want to be alone, please, Matt, we can forget about it in the morning, just…don’t leave me alone here.” 

Taking a breath, Matt allows his kingdom to collapse, just for the night. He takes off his boots and kicks them aside. Making sure there’s enough room for the two of them to lay comfortably enough to not cause any more pain to Puffer, he crawls onto the now stained green cushions and rests his head on the pillow. 

The two of them lay there in silence, listening to nothing but each other’s breaths in the slowly approaching darkness of the night. The silence is broken one last time but Puffer, whispers into the blonde’s ear next to his head.

“I don’t know what goes on in your head, Matt. But I’d like to know, maybe one day. You don’t have to keep running away from us, from this. I know you have your secrets, your own special fucking rules, but you can break them. Even if it’s just for me.”

Matt drifts off to sleep to the thought of adjusting his personal survival guide as his fingers intertwine with the man laying next to him. He feels at peace for once during the end of the world.