Moon Boy ▷ Flash Thompson

1 - BITTER SWEET SERENADE

MATTHEW WASN'T SURE HOW THE STARS GOT ON HIS SHOES. He stopped his humming to stare at his Converse, wondering just how upset his mother would be if she found that his shoes had been defaced in some way, only to remember that there was so much to discuss about him already that his shoes were most likely the least of her concerns.

He tugged on the worn Converse nevertheless, grabbing his scooter and heading out. It was a nice just barely summer's day and he was glad to be out of the house, if only to soak in the vibe of the hipster cafe he and his friends always went to, despite often mocking the hipster culture.

Speaking of his friends, his phone buzzed in his pocket and he answered it easily, walking out the side of his house, mumbling a casual, 'Mitty,' as a way of greeting.

"You spacing out again, Moon Boy, we've been waiting for you," Wyatt asked, the tell-tale sound of her drawl filling her ears and making him smile and wince as he remembered.

"I was just about to leave, hold on, I gotta grab my guitar," he said, running back into the house, ignoring the groan on the other end and a call to come back to Earth, as well as the follow up groan right beside it.

"We have all summer, relax," he drawled into the phone, because he was the kind of sunny, calm California boy that neither of his born-and-bred East Coast friends could understand.

"Go back to the West," Wyatt called, the sound of Sabine's laughing in the background making him smile, "Just get here soon, we're starting to get weird looks, we need our token white boy to ward them off."

With a laugh, he hung up, grabbing his acoustic from its stand and setting it on the bed, tugging it into its fabric case and pulling the straps over his shoulders, careful not to let it hit anything as he made his way out.

"Where are you going?"

He pause and tried not to sigh as he heard the sound of his mother downstairs. Glancing over at the closed door of the room by him, he braced himself and made eye contact with the woman who was frowning up at him with a mix of concern and disapproval.

"I'm going to meet up with Wyatt and Sabine," he mumbled, shrugging and standing at the top of the stairs, refusing to move until she stopped looking at him like that.

The hopeful look in his mother's eye had been shattered and was replaced with poorly concealed disappointment, coupled with a disapproving sigh. "I wish you'd find yourself some boy friends. Guy friends, I mean. Like what your brother has. Not-not that I have anything against you—"

Matthew stopped listening by that point, instead sighing and tracing the circle at the top of the handrailing. His mother tried, as she always did, but it didn't mean that she always succeeded. Just listening to her continue, he tried to come up with something he could pen out once he reached the cafe where his friends were waiting for him.

If he could even make it there, at least.

"Okay, mom," he interrupted, forcing his tone to be soft and even, not wanting to rile her up, "I get it. Can I go now?"

Unfortunately, that wasn't the best thing to say. Despite his best efforts, he watched her eyes harden and her sigh, similar to the way his father did whenever he was so angry that he was calm. But they weren't the same person, which meant his mother had her own ways of reacting to him interrupting her.

"Why can't you just listen for once?" she demanded, and he just sighed and starting walking down the stairs, now too upset to be polite.

"You see, this is why no one in this family can get along, it's because you won't bother to actually try and..."