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Matt knows he's short.
He knows how scrawny and punny he is. Yet the hallways in Hexside always made him feel so much smaller. He can feel his insecurities being picked at by peering eyes, judgment coating his skin. He tries his best to put on a confident shell, something to make himself feel a bit tougher. Something to prove to others and himself that he isn't a weakling, he isn't small, he isn't helpless. But then he sees Gus.
His shell cant help but soften, and his chest tightens; he shouldn't even be able to look at him. Should he?
Gus was with his usual friends chatting with them outside his locker. He seemed so relaxed, so unaffected by the hallway that felt bottomless. Matt felt his mouth turn into cotton the more he thought about just passing Gus. He doesn't deserve the slight wave Gus gives or the glint of his white teeth he so confidently flashes when he catches Matt from the corner of his eye. Matt shouldn't even be thinking about it, he shouldn't pay attention to the confidence the witch, who was barely taller than himself, gives off. He shouldn't think about his aching desire for it to be the weekend, so he can get away and just be alone with Gus in the graveyard. Just the two of them. No peering eyes, no snickers, no judgemental voices, just them.
His mind spouts on and on.
Boscha's sneer took Matt out of his mind gunk, "Take a picture it lasts longer." Matt blinked, he felt his soft shell get washed off by Boscha's scalding words. He felt himself shrink, he wished he could just disappear. But as he watched Boscha laugh with her friends, he shook off that feeling and tried to recover some of his shell. He bit back, "Maybe if I had 3 lazy eyes like you it would be less noticeable."
It didn't work. He really should learn to not spit back, but he always does. He felt his cheek swell as the hallway spun around him and then it stopped. He felt cold, and soon felt a sharp pain in his side. Then another and another. All he could do was groan. There was a tug, and that's when he realized he was on the floor. His scalp burned as his head was pulled up by his hair.
Her hot words scorched his ear, "No one would like you anyway. Why do you even try?" Before letting him go. Letting him hit the ground motionless and defeated.
He didn't want to get up, he didn't even want to try to face the countless staring faces he was bound to get now. He heard rushing footsteps and then the unmistakable soft hands on his back. Matt held his breath as Gus told Bocscha off. He knows there were other voices but Matt could only hear Gus.
His ears are soothed by his voice.
He's disgusted.
He can feel Gus slowly move down and whisper with a soft sweet voice, "It's okay Matty. I've got you." The words once used to taunt him became actual endearments. It made his stomach churn in such a vile way. He didn't deserve endearments.
Matt didn't move from the ground below, he stayed there. Gus shook him gently asking if the witchling was alright. Matt seemed stuck on the floor, maybe he could just pretend he was passed out and just wait out the eyes. He wouldn't want Gus trapped with him.
But he doesn't pretend.
He decided to shakily stand up. It took him a while but he was able to stand on his feet. Gus's concerned smile was sickeningly sweet as he grabbed Matt by the hand. Their hand's cusp together as he led Matt down the illusion hall. Matt was sure their were other moments that had happened but he was only able to focus on a few thing.
Like how Gus's hand was warm, and his presence was soft.
Yet it made Matt feel even sicker.