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━━━━━━━━━ WORK OF FICTION, MATTEO ANGGAKUSUMA. A STORY CREATED BY: TIMOER.

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RULES: READ BEFORE PROCEED

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.    FULL NAME.    .    Matteo Anggakusuma
.    ALSO KNOWN AS.    .    Matteo, Teo
.    D.O.B. + AGE.    .    13/04/1992 | 33
.    ZODIAC.    . Aries
.    GENDER.    .    Male
.    PRONOUNS.    .    He/Him
.    ORIENTATION.    .    Homosexual
.    OCCUPATION.    .    Private Client Manager at ZÉNAN

.    BIRTHPLACE.    .    Jakarta
.    CURRENT HOME.    .    Jakarta, Indonesia
.    LANGUAGE(S).    . English, Indonesian, A little bit of Japanese and Chinese
.    PARENTS.    . Unknown
.    OTHERS.    . Unknown
.    SIG. OTHER.    . Bonaventura, forevermore

“I’d choke on your name if it meant you’d whisper it against my lips one last time.”

MATTEO WAS NEVER AN ANGGAKUSUMA BY BLOOD. He’d been adopted—not out of love, not out of a warm embrace, but from some cold-blooded mix of duty and pity. He was four at the time: small, silent, with eyes too wide and weary for a child.His parents had wrecked their marriage and abandoned him like a forgotten piece of furniture neither wanted to take home. His mother vanished. His father never called. It was his adoptive father who finally took him in—offering not just shelter, but a name. He carved Matteo into someone who could belong.The man and his wife were grieving then. They’d lost their first child to a late-term miscarriage. So when Matteo arrived, fragile and stunned, they poured every broken dream into him. Maybe too much. Maybe just enough.He always knew he wasn’t really theirs. But it wasn’t until his eleventh birthday that his father told him the whole truth—about how his parents simply left. No fight. No visit. Just gone.Matteo didn’t cry. Didn’t shout. He nodded like he was accepting a life sentence. And then? He worked. Harder. Smarter. Like excellence could be gratitude. Like perfection could substitute love.He loved his adoptive parents—not out of obligation, but something deeper. Something fierce. They had raised him. Fought for him. Called him son. In his heart, they were his world.But what would they think now, if they knew? What if they found out Matteo—dutiful, grateful, adopted Matteo—was hopelessly, shamefully in love with Bonaventura Anggakusuma, their biological son?Matteo was indeed the older brother, the quiet protector, the one who taught him to ride a bike, to tie a tie, to stand tall. But somewhere between the silence, the shared grief, and stolen glances, it twisted. It bled into hunger.Because Bonaventura wasn’t just beautiful. He was everything.And Matteo worshipped him—not as a brother, not as a friend, but as something sacred and wicked all at once.The Anggakusuma family clothed him. Fed him. Loved him. Called him theirs. Never once made him feel like an outsider. But if they saw him now—pressing his forehead against Bonaventura’s door in the dark, listening for the rhythm of his breath… If they knew the truth—that Matteo kissed his mouth like salvation, touched his skin like scripture, and bit down on his name like sin—Would they burn with fury?
Would they cast him out? Strip him of the name they gave and leave him unwanted again?He didn’t know. But every time the young man moaned beneath him, breath hitching, voice trembling—every time those long fingers dug into his back, every whispered "don’t stop..."—Matteo knew he’d risk damnation a thousand times over.Because sin, once you taste it, never leaves you. And him? He was honey on his tongue—sweet, golden, and utterly impossible to resist.