Seasonal Feathers

Chapter 8

Matthew sat slumped on the couch, watching a video gaming tournament. At the moment, Feliciano was kicking Lovino's butt in a brother-battle Royale, and the darker haired Italian cursed away at his brother, the controller, and the blinking figure on screen.

A group of their peers formed a peanut gallery on the sidelines, cheering for one brother or the other. Emil was on the couch to the right of Matthew, sitting upside down with his back on the seat and legs hanging over the back. He was too engrossed in whatever was on his phone to be watching the game. Ling stood next to him behind the couch, leaning his full torso over the back rest and one elbow on Emil's knee. Most of the commentary was coming from him.

"Come on, man! You could've punched him! No duck, duck, you--"

"Jackass, if you don't shut the tomato-loving fuck up--"

"Language, Lovino!" Everyone jumped and spun around, catching sight of Roma. He had just walked inside and taken off a bloody apron.

"Oh, hi Nonno!" Feliciano set down the remote and bounded over the couch to hug his grandfather, avoiding the stains. Lovino took the opportunity to kill his brother's avatar, jumping on its head triumphantly. Matthew sat back, reveling in the sense of normalcy that was brought on by violent games and mystery blood.

Odd family. Glad he was part of it.

"By the way, there's fresh venison in the cellar." Roma rolled up the apron and tucked it under his arm. "Cookout tonight, don't miss it."

Matthew could've sworn that Roma's eyes had flashed to his at the words don't miss it, but he must've been imagining it. Everyone else turned their attention back to the tv, where Lovino's avatar was being crowned winner by an old guy in a muumuu. Feliciano, upon wandering back to the couch, discovered the fate of his character and rounded on Lovino. Soon the sound of arguing had taken over the room, cheered on by the surrounding angels with equal to prior vigor.

Matthew tuned them out, getting up to get a glass of milk. By the time he came back, everyone in the room had been pulled into the argument and were challenging each other to play-offs. Soon enough, a tournament was underway. Ling pulled out a tablet and wrote everyone's name in a column, pitting them against each other in matches.

Matthew sat back, resigned to be forgotten again and to simply watch from the sidelines. He had never really minded before, but lately he and Gilbert had started to play together using his and Ludwig's Xbox, and the blond had found himself rather enjoying it.

Ling called off the players in order of when they would face off. He and Emil, obviously; winner would play Arthur, then it would go on to Yao, etc. Matthew was busy picking at a stray bit of dirt under his nail when he heard Ling say his name.

"Huh?"

Ling rolled his eyes. "I said that you're after Tino. Keep up man, don't you want to play?"

"I-- yeah!" Matthew caught a few weird glances at the enthusiastic reply and blushed. "Sorry, I guess I drifted off."

Ling seemed to accept his answer and shrugged, going back to assigning players. Finally, everyone was satisfied and the games began.

At first, the spectators crowded around like before, even denser now that some had shown up to put their names in. Soon enough, though, the room got far too stuffy for so many angels and Ling started kicking people out, having formally taken charge for the day. Matthew left of his own accord, sighing with relief when he finally squeezed out into the fresh air.

The blond walked around a bit, joining in a mini game of soccer for a while, and fading between the tournament and the yard. Roma arrived after a few hours with venison steaks and vegetable skewers, and Matthew helped him set up the grill.