#im thinking mattie is a bird of some sort

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

hot

[cows-wearing-my-sweater]

"weren't we the stars in heaven?"

word count: 1978 warnings: angst ??? notes: title is from the song linked above -- kinda some fluff in this but mostly just sad LMAO </3 also im using this as an opportunity to say all of the fic writers here are so inspiring i actually get sm motivation from u guys !! ily forever

Water laps at your fingertips. It’s so very cold; you imagine the icy feeling crawling up your arm until it has frozen your entire body. You’d like to be stuck here for the rest of eternity, the late-winter sky covering the world like a blanket. Most of the sounds around you are muffled, save for the occasional words exchanged between you and Matty.

You’re sitting with him at the edge of an old and worn pier. Initials and hearts and expletives are carved into it all over, and many of the boards have fallen apart, but this is your place. You’ve come here often with Matty over the many years of your friendship. A small, quiet pond. A few lilies adorn where the land slips into water, but aside from that, the scene is entirely unremarkable. There was never a spoken reason why you returned here with him so many times. It was a sort of ritual at this point. After the first night you found the place, a night where you were both a little too stoned and the world was spinning far too quickly, it had become a sanctuary.

Matty watches your fingers continue to swirl through the water, spiraling around and around to create little whorls. “What are you thinking about?” he asks you softly.

You hear the words but they don’t seem to register. Matty’s voice is far away, calling you from a universe where things are different. He says your name this time, a little louder than before.

“Hm?” You lift your head and sit up straighter to get a good look at him. A smile is spread across his face, but you can detect the sadness behind it. It’s a look of mourning, the knowledge of the loss that can’t be avoided for much longer.

Matty repeats himself for you. “I asked what you’re thinking about right now.” He nudges you with his elbow, adding, “You seem a bit preoccupied.”

There’s a lump in your throat. He’s pretending not to know and you’re going to have to say it. Part of you wants to be furious, wants to scream over the fact that he’s acting like he forgot that this is his last day before leaving with the band. You find you can’t truly be angry, though. You saw the tears pooling in his eyes when he told you a month ago that he would be leaving. Even then, you had known it was an opportunity he couldn’t miss. The world was ready for The 1975’s first tour, and it would be nothing but selfish to get on your knees and beg for him to change his mind. 

You take a breath to collect yourself before answering his question. “Thinking about missing you.”

His eyes quickly dart away from you. There’s not much time left to act like things are normal. You don’t want to act like things are normal. You want to tell Matty everything, you want to show him every piece of your heart. You want to expose how it beats for him.

Matty sighs heavily, laying on his back to look up at the sky. You do the same – maybe it’ll be easier if you don’t have to face each other. The sheet of clouds is untouched, obstructed only by the occasional bird gliding past. An anomaly within an infinite expanse of nothing. Something about this makes you reach for Matty’s hand. You lace your fingers with his and squeeze. He squeezes back.

He’s still there.

“I just don’t want things to be weird. Or complicated,” you tell him, voice barely above a whisper.

Matty laughs at this. Not a mean laugh, but one of surprise. “You say that like it’s not already complicated.” 

You laugh as well, half from your nerves and half from relief. At least he knows. He knows there’s something clearly aching to be said. You start to wonder if it was wrong to wait until it was far too late to tell him. You ask yourself what even constitutes “too late.” You find that you’re not sure. There’s a pause between your laugh and your next words. “What if we don’t see each other again?”

“That won’t happen,” Matty says definitively. He’s still staring straight up, no turning of the head to drink in your image. His words are a half-truth, though, and you can hear it in his voice. He’ll certainly try to come back, to call you, to pay you visits, to give you kisses that clearly run deeper than “just friends.” However, it’s a slim likelihood that this happens. The ever-present hand of time will push you both onwards, stealing Matty from you. You feel this in your heart. You pray that your heart knows nothing.

You’re acutely aware of the increased pressure Matty has on your hand. You sneak a glance over and see that his eyes are shut. You notice that even his eyelashes are pretty, and this sends a pang through your heart. You never want to stop discovering his beauty. The selfish depths of your heart want Matty to remain your own little secret; you never want to share him with the world. This is not where he belongs, though. There is a long stretch of road waiting for him, and, if nothing else, you would still be there with open arms at the end of it.

Matty shuffles his body closer to yours, finally making the dreaded eye contact. No words are exchanged, but you both seem to understand what the other is thinking. You turn on your side and press a kiss to his shoulder. “This could have been so good,” you murmur against his skin.

“I know.”

You allow your lips to linger for a moment. The sky is darkening now. Maybe hours have passed or maybe you were unlucky and got here just moments before sunset. It doesn’t matter, though; you can feel time slipping through your hands, and suddenly you feel like an idiot. There were so many times you almost did it, almost blurted out, “I think I’m in love with you.” The words feel so natural on your tongue when it’s for Matty. It would have been so easy for your mouth to let the sounds slip out. Now you’re here. You never said it, but Matty knows, and the act of actually voicing it is moot.

Matty’s thumb rubs soft circles on your hand, an attempt to ease the pain. His touch burns into your skin. You savor it. Quiet breathing fills your ears, and you let the combination of this and Matty’s skin on yours ease your mind to prevent your next words from becoming stuck in your throat.

Just as your lips part, however, Matty fills the void for you. “I really do love you, you know. I think I love you in every way imaginable, and in all the ways no one has thought of yet.”

A white hot flash of something sears through you – it’s an emotion you can’t put a name to, although it doesn’t particularly need a name. You know what it’s calling you to do. Without much thinking, you adjust your position to gingerly hold yourself above Matty. Ease of access to his lips.

You intertwine yourselves together. It��s terrifying and it’s bliss and you hope it never has to end. This isn’t the first time you’ve kissed him, but it's noticeably different. This time is more tender, and he’s sweeter and softer than you had remembered. Matty’s hands aren’t greedy, either. He holds you to him and his touch roams your body, but he’s gentle. You’re both starving for each other, but you don’t want to miss a single second of this. You need Matty’s lips engraved in yours – something you wouldn't be able to forget, even when he is long gone.

His chest is rising and falling rapidly and you can feel his reluctance as your skin parts from his. Pupils dilated, his forehead comes to rest against yours. Warm breath tickles your nose and the absurdity of it all hits you. You can’t help but giggle. Matty’s expression shifts from serious to puzzled, and then he’s laughing with you. The familiar sound of his laughter helps to soothe your racing heart.

You push yourself into a sitting position now, no longer laying over top of Matty’s body. He does the same, and while your attention is on getting comfortable again, Matty takes the opportunity to catch you off guard. He uses two fingers to tilt your chin up, forcing eye contact before he begins to press kisses to every feature on your face. First your forehead, then your cheeks, the tip of your nose, your chin, up and down your jaw. Your eyes flutter closed and you hum contentedly. There’s a hesitation before he meets your lips again, but you lean into it deeply when he does. You move symbiotically with one another, souls melting into each other. This feeling transcends the human experience. This must be what a supernova feels like, heat pouring out from the center of each body as a final farewell. 

Your desire hasn’t been fulfilled to completion when the kiss is broken, but you know this cannot go on forever. “I really do love you too, Matty,” you finally respond. A pause, and then, “And I can’t help but feel guilty for not saying it sooner.”

Matty is quiet for a long time before saying anything else. You almost think he didn’t hear you, until he simply says, “I don’t think we ever needed to say it.”

You furrow your brow at this. “Don’t you wish we could’ve been more than this?”

“I think we would have ended up here anyway. ‘Course I wish things were different, [Y/N]. I would travel to the ends of the earth to find you again. But you’re a smart girl, you know I can’t stay here forever. And I haven’t regretted a single moment of whatever this is.” He gestures vaguely with his hands, unsure of the words to describe what exists between him and you. “D’you know what I mean?”

Once again, you find yourself wanting to be furious. He should be crying, he should be miserable, he should be apologizing for never making this easy. You shake yourself back to reality because you know Matty is right. His words hit you with a certain level-headedness that you hadn’t been ready for. You don’t regret any of this either. Despite it all, he was always there. You suppose that’s all that ever truly mattered; at the very least, it’s what you’ll tell yourself until you believe it. “I know what you mean,” you manage to say.

“Thank you, darling.”

It’s truly getting late now. The night brings an impending sense of doom, regardless of all that has transpired. Silence has fallen over the two of you now; there’s not much left to say, anyway. He told you he can’t stay here forever, and you’re proud of him for it. You make peace with the idea of going home, letting the night draw to a close. 

Before you know it, you’re standing with Matty at your parked cars. You cast a glance back at the pond – you’re not sure you’ll come back. Maybe you can when Matty comes back, for old times’ sake. For now, though, you’re faced with the decision of parting words. Of course you’ll see him again tomorrow morning just before he packs up and leaves, but it feels wrong not to say something. Suddenly there’s intense pressure on you; you need to say something monumental, something life-altering that he could never forget. But you don’t. Instead, you leave a chaste kiss on his cheek and say the only words that you can seem to find.

“Don’t be a stranger.”

“I never could be.”