It's Definitely Not All Mary Poppins

Winds Changed Again (1)

Toby slouched into his friend, his eyes red. His body shuddered still, covered firmly with a ratty, but still warm, blanket; he sighed again. "What am I going to do?" he whispered again, sitting up a little.

Matthew wrapped an arm around Toby's shoulders, bringing him back against him. He hadn't planned on spending his Sunday off comforting him, but he didn't mind it in the slightest.

Liza groaned from her spot at the counter. "I swear to God, Matthew – "

"Be a little sympathetic, Liza."

She groaned again and, slamming the bar stool back and forth, moved to her bedroom and slammed the door.

Toby sniffed, tilted his head back, then started sobbing. "I don't even care enough to call her an ogre."

"Oh, my God," Matthew whispered, squeezing him into his side.

"Maaaaaaaaaaattttttt," Toby moaned, crying into his friend's shoulder.

Matthew sat by, waiting until the gasping started subsiding.

When his breathing returned to some semblance of normal, Toby say back and stared up at the ceiling, sighing. "Should've seen it coming," he murmured, wiping his eyes.

"How?"

Toby scoffed. "...I don't know." A sarcastic smile tugged on his lips. "I didn't even ask if I could use anyone as a reference."

"...do you still think you could?"

He took in a long, slow breath before letting it out, as if expelling everything heavy from his being. "Probably," he answered.

Matthew patted his friend's shoulder, exhaustion sweeping through his body. "Small steps, right?"

Toby's gray eyes met Matthew's before he grimaced. "I don't like you."

He smiled and stood, dropping his hand on his head. "Someone's got to step up." He retreated to the kitchen, if only to breathe for a moment. Yet Matthew enjoyed the occasional slide into this role – a therapist of sorts – for his friends. It satisfied the drive in him.

"...you didn't come in Lloyd."

Taking in a sharp breath sent shivers through him. "Engine trouble this morning," he replied, forcing a smile onto his face. He turned back to Toby. "Already ordered the parts to repair him."

Lloyd remained parked in the carport on the estate on Cherry Street, headlights staring into the treetops. His engine cold and slightly disassembled. Matthew had taken a taxi over.

Toby peered over the edge of the couch back, his green eyes tinted red. "...how's the conversion process going?"

God-awful. Horrible. He'd hit so many walls that he might as well be slamming himself into a closet over and over. The services available were astronomical in price. Their conversion designs were muddled down by body modification, which he couldn't think of doing to his beloved blue Bug. If he were to convert the car, Matthew would have to learn to weld. Build batteries. Rewire. Find an electric engine, if one existed. Find plans to do it all. He knew what was wrong with the engine, but not sure that he could prevent it from happening again. The option of being fired was constantly on his mind. Something about it irked him, yet relieved him enormously.

He didn't say that. "Still researching," he replied, returning to his former roommate with a glass of water with a forced grin on his face. "It's great, though. Really interesting, and Mr. Yang's letting me extend the timeline so we can convert the house to fully electric first." Matthew offered the glass to him.

Toby moved it to the side with the back of his hand, staring.

Matthew swallowed and put the glass down on the coffee table.

"...what's wrong with Lloyd?"

He shook his head, trying hard to keep his smile up. "Engine troubles this morning. I said." He sat back down.

"Matt."

"What?"

Toby, after a moment, sighed. He reached for the glass. "I'm not in the mood to fight you, so...whatever. Thanks."

He licked his lips, relaxing into the armchair. "Are you feeling better?"

"No."

"Better enough to insult Liza?"

"I heard that," she called from her bedroom.

Toby shrugged, putting down the glass. "...I don't know."

Matthew tapped his fingers against the armchair. "Have you updated your resume?"

He shrugged again. "I got fired yesterday, dude."

"Send it my way." He chuckled. "I've sent mine in enough times to know what makes a good resume at this point."

His friend sneered, through this was probably to hide his smirk.

"Send it my way," Matthew repeated, his tone gentler. "I can update it – "

"No, I'll do it," Toby whispered. "I, just...need to find the time."

"You sure?"

"I said I'd do it." His tone suggested there was no room for persuasion, yet Toby watched him, waiting for the retort.

Matthew glanced down and shook his head. "...okay."