#the big light

[betweenthings2]

“No, no! What are you doing here? Why are you here!?" might actually destroy me

Thank you for the ask!! I apologize for how long this took me, but the prompt list is here =)

“You open that door, you never come back,” William threatens. “You open that door, and you never get anything from me ever again.”

Matty pauses. Does he have anywhere to go if he opens the door? George won't want him, not with what he said last time they spoke. Ross and Adam won't, not with the mess he's been lately. His mum won't, she won't trust that he's going to stay sober and not bring things into her house, bring things around Louis. No one will want him. This is the best he gets, so he drops his hand and turns back to William.

"I'm sorry," he tries, sniffling. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I can't help what I say sometimes. I'm sorry."

“I know you are,” William says. “But have you learned your lesson?” 

Matty sniffles and tries to ignore the stabbing pain in his ribs as breathes, then nods. 

“So you’re not gonna be a bitch about things anymore? You’re gonna do as you’re told?” 

"I think I need to go to A&E," is what Matty says. Every time he takes a breath, there's a sharp, stabbing pain in his side and his wrist is throbbing, sending pain radiating out in time with his pulse. He'd go back to heroin to make this stop.

"Are you gonna stop being a bitch about things?" William pushes.

Matty nods again. What else can he do? 

“Say it,” William pushes. “Tell me you’ll be good and I’ll take you to A&E.” 

Matty can’t quite read William’s expression, not with his own panic and pain, but he would swear it’s one of sadistic glee. “I promise,” Matty mumbles. “I’ll be good.” 

William’s expression gets a little bit more unsettling at that, but Matty is in too much shock to notice it. "Really?"

Matty nods, choking back a sob. "I will. I promise. I'll be good."

William looks like he's considering, like he's thinking that maybe he ought to break something else just to prove his point, but instead, he just grabs his things and his shoes, then roughly tugs Matty to his feet and pushes him out the door, saying, "You tripped. When the nurse asks you, you tripped."

Matty nods.

"Say it," William insists, pushing Matty towards the car.

Matty loses his balance and falls against the passenger side door, and he can't help crying out.

William rolls his eyes and snaps, "Shut up."

Matty swallows back a whimper as he climbs into the car, then does his best to stay silent for the whole drive, even when it seems like William is trying to hit every pothole or bump in the road and slamming on the brakes on purpose. He chooses a parking spot on the lowest level of the parking garage and as far away from the elevator as they can get, but Matty doesn't try to protest, just stays quiet. He's not sure he can take any more hurt.

William knocks his hand against Matty's injured wrist as the walk to the elevator, subtle enough that it could be an accident, but Matty knows it's not. Matty knows it's a measured movement to remind him to behave. Matty can't hold back his whimper or the tears that well up in his eyes. He misses George. George never made him hurt like this, but George isn't going to want him anymore so this is the best he'll ever get. Matty yelps when William bumps against his shoulder, sending pain through his ribs and wrist again.

William groans, exasperated, and pushes Matty against the wall next to the elevator doors. "Get yourself together," he snaps. "I'm not going to be arrested because you're being dramatic."

Matty nods. He's pretty sure that if he says anything, he's going to start sobbing.

William wraps his fingers around Matty's wrist, rough and unfamiliar against the angry swelling, and squeezes. White hot pain shoots through Matty's body and he cries out. He's surprised he doesn't pass out right there.

"Matty."

That's not William, Matty knows. It's too gentle, too kind to be William but there's no one else it could be. Maybe he's just going crazy.

"Matty."

Matty tries to pull himself free, but William just holds tighter and Matty curls in on himself, unable to keep his sobbing at bay any longer. William just scoffs and pushes Matty against the wall like he's nothing.

Matty just keeps sobbing, sinking down to sit o the ground next to the bank of elevators, his injured arm tucked against his chest and his face shielded from the blow he's sure is going to come by his uninjured arm.

He's not sure how much time passes or how everything has gotten as dark as it is, but then there's a hand on his shoulder, gentle and warm, soothing rather than painful. It feels like George's hand, kind in the way George always is, but he isn't supposed to be here. George isn't supposed to be here, he's supposed to be far away from Matty and the mess he makes of things, so he tries to push George's hand away and tries to muffle his crying.

"You're not supposed to be here," Matty forces out.

"You're ok. Everything's ok. You're home, you're safe."

"No. No!" Matty tries again. "What are you doing here? Why are you here?! You're not supposed to be here."

"Matty, love," George murmurs. "You're home. Just open your eyes for me, ok? You're home and you're safe. We're both exactly where we're supposed to be."

Even if George is some kind of hallucination made up by fear and hurt, Matty would like to see him one more time. He'd like to see George once more because he's so sure he's about to die in this parking garage at the hands of someone who never liked him, so he opens his eyes, and oh.

This isn't whatever Matty had thought it was. This is Matty's bedroom, the bedroom he shares with George. This is home and George is right there, looking worried in the low light of their bedroom. Matty wraps his arms around George and clings, pressing his face against George's chest and crying. He's not completely convinced George is real--he doesn't feel any more real that then parking garage or the pain or William--but he does feel safe and Matty will take what he can get right now.

George just lets him cry, rubbing his back with a gentle hand that's warm through the thin material of Matty's t-shirt and murmuring, "You're alright. Everything's ok. You're home and you're safe, yeah? I've got you. You're safe with me."

Matty isn't sure how log he cries, but eventually he just doesn't have any more crying in him and he goes quiet, still clinging to George. The longer they stay like that, the more Matty's nightmare begins to fade, the more solid and real George becomes. This is real, Matty tells himself. George and his gentle hands, his solid body, his warmth, that's real, not the parking garage or William's cruelty or the pain, not anymore.

"Matty?" George asks after a while, still just as gentle and still rubbing Matty's back. "You with me?"

Matty nods and mumbles, "'m here." His voice is rough from the crying.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Was just a bad dream," Matty tries. "'s not a big deal."

George sighs. "You haven't woken up crying like that in a long time."

"It was just a bad dream," Matty repeats, but he keeps clinging to George like he's all that's keeping Matty grounded, all that's keeping him from falling back into his nightmare.

"Ok," George agrees.  "Are you gonna go back to sleep?"

Matty shakes his head. He can't face the idea of going back to sleep, of being back at the mercy of whatever his brain is going to make up.

"You want anything?" George tries again. "Tea? A joint? A-"

"No," Matty interrupts. "Don't leave me. Please."

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm not goin' anywhere. I've got you," George promises.

"Thanks," Matty mumbles. Then, "I'll tell you, just gimme a little while, ok?"

"'course," George agrees.

Matty doesn't respond. He doesn't need to. He just stays quiet and breathes, stays pressed against George where he knows he's safe. Eventually, the bedroom begins to get lighter as the night gives way to the early morning, and there's birdsong filtering through the cracked open window. It makes him feel a little bit better, a little bit further away from the nightmare.

When room is full of early morning light, Matty rolls over to lay on his back, stretching out and flexing his wrist to remind himself that he's ok, that he's healed, and asks, "G?"

"Yeah?" George sounds tired, like he's been woken up from a doze.

"Never mind," Matty says. "You should sleep."

"Uh-uh," George responds, propping himself up on his elbow so he can meet Matty's gaze. "I'm right here if you wanna talk."

Matty stays quiet for a moment.

"Don't do that," George tries. "If you wanna talk, let's talk."

Matty finds a spot on the ceiling to stare at, then carefully starts, "I, erm, I dreamed that I, I never left, that he, uh," Matty pauses, "did what he did to me and I didn't leave, and so, erm, he took me at A&E, but he kept hurting me, and I, I couldn't do anything and he seemed so," he pauses again, "so proud of himself."

George looks devastated. "Matty, love," he starts.

Matty shakes his head. "Don't. I just," he pauses again. "Tell me it wasn't real. Tell me that didn't happen, that this is real."

"This is real," George murmurs. "You and me, right here, this is what's real, not whatever you dreamed. We're real."

Matty lets out a shaky breath and mumbles, "Thanks, G."

"Can I ask you something?" George asks after a moment.

"Sure."

Carefully, George asks, "Do you remember? That day, when it happened?"

Matty is quiet for a moment and keeps staring at the ceiling to answer, "I remember the pain and the sound when my arm broke. I remember being so cold. And I remember you getting there, but I don't really remember much more than that."

"Matty-"

"I don't wanna remember it," Matty adds quickly. "That wouldn't help anything."

"I'm sorry," George offers. "I-"

"Let's not," Matty cuts in. "I don't wanna think about him anymore, or what he did."

George nods. "Ok. Just know I'm here, ok?"

"I do," Matty promises. "I always do."

[notautismjustvibes]

every time i see a neurodivergent person crash out about the big light i feel imposter syndrome becuz i crash out if it's not on cuz i neeed bright light

[fanficfanattic]

I was trying to find the post where Jamie complains to the lads that Roy keeps threatening to turn on The Big Light as a punishment. And Roy is very much “why do you all think that’s a punishment?!?”

So I could link this vid about How To Turn On The Big Light.

But can’t find it 😭

[thelileggboy]

Getting inconsolably upset because we’re in that part of the year where the day is only here from like six AM to 4:30 PM and I’m forced to use the big light

[halfblackwolfdemon]

I'm not neuro-divergebt but my husband is and we both hate having the ceiling light on and have a lap or use our phones to move about, haha l.

Non-autistics living with autistics:

They keep eating the same freaking food and it frustrates me so much! We can't have the "big scary light" on just lamps everywhere! Even when I try to find peace by doing stuff with them they just ignore me and do whatever they want. They can't even do the simplest of things like go with me to the grocery store every week! How do people expect them to survive in society??

Autistics living together:

So as long as we get my 10 packets of this really specific food, and some snacks, I'll be okay. Also is it cool if you go to the grocery store? I can clean the bathroom since thats bad sensory for you and the store is bad sensory for me. Can you turn on the lamp instead of the big light? It gives me a headache. Thanks man. Yea I'll unplug the TV for you since you can hear the high pitched noise. Do you want to do two separate things in the same room as bonding again this evening? Thats my favorite part of the day too.

[theineffableauthor]

You think you can hurt me? Sometimes when i try to turn off my lamp to sleep I accidentally put on the big light

[wh0re-huds0n]

me: “why am i so overstimulated and feeling so nauseous?”

the humble Big Light: *is on*

me: “oh”

[abandoned-quiche]

I LOVE ALL OF THESE CHARACTERS BTW. I DO NOT WANT TO SEE YOUR HATE FOR THEM ON MY POST

[betweenthings2]

“I can't get out, can't get out” and "Slow breaths. Nice and slow." together would be painfully sad and amazing just saying

Thank you for the ask!! The prompt list is here, but I also have a few new lists to post for The Big Light once I get through everything in my inbox =)

PTSD prompts "I can't get out, can't get out," and "Slow breaths. Nice and slow."

"Jesus Christ, Matthew," George sighs, looking at the mess. "Is this everything you own? It was lunch, not a photoshoot."

Matty doesn't say anything. He hadn't thought he was making much of a mess when he'd been getting ready to go, but apparently he had been. Sure, about half his wardrobe is piled on the foot of the bed, but he hadn't thought it was that bad and he'll take care of it. He was going to take care of it when he got home, before George could even see it, let alone be upset about it.

George stoops to pick up a couple of hangers and starts putting things back on hangers to go back in the closet, muttering, "How hard is it to get dressed for lunch?"

"Hard, apparently," Matty forces himself to say. Maybe if he can lighten the mood, make George even smile, things will be better.

George turns, hangers still in his hands, and kind of snaps, "Don't start, not when I'm taking care of your shit."

Matty flinches, then readies himself for what he knows he deserves. It doesn't come when Matty expects it to come and maybe that's the point, but he still can't help being a little bit confused, so he opens his eyes and looks up at George. George, who's just putting another shirt on a hanger. Confused, Matty starts, "You're not gonna…?" He trails off at the end of his question.

"Not gonna what?"

"Hit me?" It comes out like a question, like Matty is asking George to hit him, so he tries again with, "I upset you."

George sighs and sets the hangers down, but he stays where he is rather than going to Matty, and says, "I'm not going to hit you, Matty. Never once in my life have I thought that would help anything."

"But I'd deserve it. I do deserve it. You're, you're supposed to hit me when I upset you."

"I'm not. I'm supposed to be kind to you, I'm supposed to treat you like I love you because I do."

"And I'm supposed to be good."

George stares for a moment, dumbfounded, before trying, "Good? Matty, you're not a dog."

"But I am annoying. That's-" Matty gestures to the bed and all of his clothes "-half my closet that you're taking care of 'cause I couldn't decide what to wear."

"You're not annoying. You are sometimes a lot, but I love you. That's not going to change because you're a lot sometimes and that certainly doesn't mean you deserve abuse."

Matty stays quiet.

George sets the hangers down and crosses the room to where Matty is still standing to say, "Sweetheart, there's nothing you could do that would make me hit you. Nothing. I, I adore you. I'm not going to hurt you."

"But you're supposed to, George! That's the deal!"

"Is that what he told you?" George asks. "That there's some kind of deal?"

Matty shrugs. William did say things like that, that Matty is obnoxious and annoying so of course he pushed Matty around. He deserved it and he believed that he deserved it. And it wasn't just that William kept him so high he could barely think straight, or that William pushed him around and berated him every time he suggested that something was wrong in how he was being treated. It's that everyone, every partner Matty has ever had has treated him a little bit like that.

"Why do you believe him?" George tries. "Why do you believe what he told you over what I tell you?"

Matty sniffs and looks away, looks at his pile of clothes on the bed, looks anywhere but at George, and asks, "You really wanna know?"

George nods. "Yes. I wanna know why you think you deserve to be hurt."

Matty takes a moment and lets out a breath, then, "'cause it wasn't just him."

"What?"

"It wasn't just him," Matty repeats. "It was everyone. It was, like, everyone I've ever been in a relationship with, everyone but you."

"Everyone?"

Matty nods. "That guy I dated when I was, like, eighteen? He pushed me around. He once shoved me into a table so hard I had bruises for, like, a month and he always told me it was a mistake and if I'd just be better, he wouldn't have to, and he'd tell me that I was pretty when I cried and he'd make me cry.

Or that girl when things started to get bad? She'd throw things and break things and, and every criticism people have ever had of me, that I'm egotistical and self-obsessed and unoriginal and shallow and everything, every time she got mad at me, she'd say they were right. Every time I'd get off the phone with her when we were on tour, I'd be ready to quit. She said that, that no one would miss me when I finally killed myself, or everyone else I ever tried to date, they were never nice to me, not like you are, and I, I'm really good at hiding bruises, so, yeah, you're supposed to hit me and we're supposed to have sex whenever you want to and, and-"

"Hey," George interrupts. "Take a breath, love."

Matty forces himself to take a breath, but it's shallow, and he still feels a little like he might hyperventilate.

George offers an encouraging look, moving his hand like he's going to rest it on Matty's hip, then thinks better of it and says, "There ya go, slow breaths. Nice and slow. You're ok."

Matty tries for another deep breath and steps forward a bit to press himself against George, feeling the warmth of his body, inhaling the remnants of his cologne. Matty feels a little better like that, but he's still fairly certain that George is somehow wrong in this.

"That's it," George murmurs, rubbing Matty's back. "You're safe. No one's gonna hurt you, not again."

"But you're supposed to," Matty mumbles.

"No, I'm not, sweetheart. Would you?"

"No," Matty responds. "But that's not how this works. I'm the annoying one. I'm the one who deserves it."

"You don't. Matty you don't deserve that," George insists, still rubbing Matty's back. "I'm sorry that so many people have hurt you. I'm so sorry that there have been people who made you think you deserve to be hurt because you don't, but I promise you, I will never, ever hurt you. No on purpose. There's nothing you could do that would make me hurt you."

"But-"

"But nothing," George interrupts. "C'mon, we've had this conversation, Matty, and you're not blind. You know that's wrong."

Matty sniffles and shifts to hide his face against George's chest, then mumbles, "I just, I can't get out, can't get out of, of any it, and I, I know it's wrong, G, I do, but it's not when it's me."

Matty can feel George's hitched breath and George is quiet when he asks, "Do you really think that little of yourself?"

There's a pause, then Matty admits, "Maybe."

"Matthew, love, you're brilliant. You have to know that. You're brilliant and larger than life and I adore you," George tries. "I know it hasn't been long-"

"Seven months," Matty interjects.

"Seven months isn't very long, not really, and I don't expect you to be fine, but if you don't trust yourself, trust me. You're worth it. I'm sorry I haven't shown you that."

"'s not your fault," Matty mumbles.

George strokes his fingers through Matty's hair, recently cut in a way that makes him seem a little bit more open, and repeats, "Trust me, Matty, ok? You are worth it. You don’t deserve what people have done to you. You don't."

Matty doesn't say anything. He's still not so sure he believes George, but it's nice to be held and arguing is a good way to upset George, so he just stays quiet.

[verflares]

just how long is forever? // not long enough, with you

pssst. check this out on inprnt :]

[theappalachiandragon]

I am neurodivergent AND I'm hungover can someone PLEASE TURN OFF THE BIG LIGHT

[roxirinart]

"Please... Please, fix him."

[lotus-pear]

11/20

[betweenthings2]

literally all the prompts i cant choose and ESPECIALLY if its to do w the big light i will take whatever you graciously give to us

I've been hanging onto this ask for so long to give you all whatever I felt like writing, so here's some stuff that kind of materialized in my drafts. The prompt list is here, but there is probably a new Big Light prompt list coming when I finish the prompts I have now.

PTSD Prompts "Wake up. Wake up!" and "I'm broken. I'm fucked in the head."

Matty hasn't gotten out of bed in days, not in any meaningful way. George has tried everything he can think of, but all Matty does is stare off into space. George isn't even sure Matty realizes he's there. It breaks his heart and he has no idea what to do other than just be there. He can't expect Matty to be fine, he knows that, just like he knows Matty isn't fine. He didn't expect Matty to be fine, but he didn't expect this. This is something George hasn't seen before. Even at his worst, Matty's always been a little more functional than this.

George figures he just needs time. That's fine, he can give Matty time. It's been two weeks. Two whole weeks since Matty went through something awful, since Matty got out of something awful, of course he wants to stay in bed for four days straight. That makes since to George--Matty is on the back side of something awful, of course he's crashing, it's just, well, he won't talk. He won't look at George, barely accepts the tea and toast George keeps bringing him.

On day five George decides he's doing something. He lets Matty be for the most of the day, holding out hope that Matty will get up and do something, but as afternoon rolls over into evening, he gives up. If nothing else, George decides, he's going to get Matty into the shower, wash his hair, help him feel a little bit better physically at least.

After Matty declines, or more accurately, refuses to accept anything to eat or drink, George collects a plastic bag to wrap around Matty's split to keep it dry, drapes a towel on the radiator, turns on the shower, and lets it warm up while he goes to get Matty. He's half temped to simply pick Matty up and put him in the bathtub and that's probably the most efficient course of action, but he's also not quite willing to run the risk it'll upset Matty, so he sits on the edge of the bed and tries.

"How 'bout gettin' up, love?" George asks.

Matty doesn't say anything.

"I've got the shower running, it'll be nice and warm," George tries again. "I think you might feel a little bit better."

Matty doesn't move or say anything.

"I'm gonna pick you up, ok?" George decides.

Still, Matty doesn't respond, so George stands and pushes the bedding back, then picks Matty up and takes him into the bathroom. There's enough counter space that Matty can sit on the counter, so that's where George puts him, waiting for just a minute to make sure he's steady before pushing the door closed.

"I'm gonna get you undressed now," George continues. He's not sure if Matty's even hearing him, but telling him what's going on still seems like the bet choice, even if he doesn't respond.

Matty isn't very helpful when George goes to pull his shirt off, nor is when George wraps his splint up to keep it dry. He's even less helpful when George helps him off the counter to get his sweats and boxers off, but George manages well enough on his own, then gets Matty into the bathtub. He immediately presses himself into a corner of the bathtub and pulls his knees him to his chest, getting himself as small as he can.

"Hey, you're alright," George offers. "'s just you and me. I'm gonna wash your hair and I've got a warm towel for you, then I'm gonna change the sheets so everything's nice for you."

Matty doesn't say anything, just keeps himself small.

"I won't do anything 'til you're ready, but I'd like to take care of you," George tries. "Can you tell me when you're ready?"

George doesn't really expect Matty to say anything, but after a few moments, he does relax and gives George a tiny nod.

"Can you nod again when you're ready, love?" George asks.

Matty doesn't move for another few moments, but then he gives a second little nod, so George comes back to the side of the bathtub and takes the showerhead down before kneeling next to the tub. He lets the water flow over Matty's body, giving him a minute to get used to it before he urges Matty to tilt his chin up so water doesn't run into his eyes as George wets his hair. It's greasy and matted, but George takes his time getting it wet, then holds the showerhead towards Matty.

"Can you hold that?" he asks.

Silently, Matty takes the showerhead and holds it just above his knees, watching the water run down his shins.

George has to take that as a win and takes Matty's shampoo from the edge of the bathtub. Matty flinches slightly when the cap pops open and George makes a point not to close it, figuring he's going to have to shampoo Matty's hair twice and he does. The shampoo barely lathers and it breaks George's heart, but all he does is rinse it out and hand the showerhead back to Matty to shampoo his hair a second time. The shampoo lathers better the second time and George moves on to conditioner and a comb he kind of didn't know he had.

"'m sorry if this hurts a bit," George murmurs. "It'll be better if I can get all the tangles out now, though, ok?"

Matty gives a little, tiny nod, so George starts at the ends, working out the tangles, careful and gentle. Every time he hits a particularly tough tangle and Matty winces, he murmurs an apology and by the time he's done, he's wound up with more of Matty's dark hair knotted around the comb than he expected, a combination of natural shedding and hair being pulled or broken and George worked out the knots. That's kind of heartbreaking, too.

George lets the conditioner sit for a minute while he takes a soapy washcloth to Matty's body. The bruising on his chest and shoulder is fading, gone to a kind of sickly greenish yellowish color that George kind of hates to see, but tries to ignore as works. When he's done with Matty's body, George rinses the conditioner from his hair and the soap from his body, then shuts off the shower. Matty doesn't move, so George towel dries his hair, then works curl cremé and gel through the strands. Still, when George is done, Matty doesn't move.

"Hey, we're all done, sweetheart," George says gently. "We're all done. We can get you back to bed if you want."

Matty still doesn't move.

"Matty," George tries again. "C'mon. Up you get. D'ya need help?"

Nothing.

"Matty." George is a little bit sharper this time. When Matty doesn't do anything, George waves a hand in front of his face and still, there's nothing. "Matty."

George sits back on his heels and just looks at Matty. He loves Matty, he does, more than anything. He loves Matty so much, but this empty shell of a person isn't Matty. This is what someone else, someone awful made Matty. This isn't George's Matty but it is because this is Matty now and George is suddenly so angry about it.

"C'mon," George begs. "Please. Do something, Matthew. Wake up. Wake up! Do something."

Still, Matty doesn't do anything.

"This isn't it," George continues. "This isn't it. I know it was awful and I know all that awful is in your head now, forever, and I know you want everything to go away and you want to hide in the safe corner of your head, fuck, I know, Matty, but I am begging you, don't let that part of you win. Don't let him win. Please."

Matty looks up at George with big, sad eyes full of tears, but he doesn't say anything.

"Ok," George says, standing. He holds a hand out to Matty and helps him up then wraps the towel that was on the radiator around his shoulders. "I'm gonna get you clean clothes, but do you want me to change the sheets, too? It'll just be a couple minutes and things'll be nice and clean for you."

Matty gives another tiny nod.

"Ok," George agrees, leading Matty out of the bathroom. He digs clean clothes for Matty out of the dresser, boxers, sweats, and a hoodie Matty would always take from him when they were in high school, then clean sheets from the linen closet and changes the sheets while Matty gets dressed again, slow and a little bit clumsy.

When George is done with the sheets, he folds the bedding down so it's easy for Matty to get back into bed, but instead of crawling back into bed, Matty just wraps his arms around George and cries. It's quiet crying, but crying nonetheless and god, does George wish he could do something about it. He's doing all he can, though, so he just lets Matty cry.

----

"I'm afraid I don't know how to do this right, George," Matty admits, scared and quiet. His voice feels too big for the dim bedroom, for the way their bare bodies are pressed together between the sheets. He knows this the wrong time to say this, he probably needs to stop saying the big, scary things right after they've had sex, when they're comfortable and cozy together, but he's not sure he'll be able to say it another time.

"I'm scared I don't know how to do a proper relationship right, 'cause I love you, but I know that’s not everything. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. What am I supposed to do every day? What do I do if I'm mad at you or I don't feel like talking to anyone or I want to be alone? How do I tell you that without doing it wrong?"

"Matty," George murmurs, "you do know how to do it right, I promise you. We've been doing good for almost a year."

Matty shakes his head as best he can with his head against George's chest. "I've spent so much of the past year just trying to keep my head above water. I've spent the past year trying to convince myself I was safe and half the time I couldn't believe it and the other half I could barely get out of bed. If we've been doin' good, that's you, not me. That was you in spite of me."

"That's not true," George tries, running gentle, calloused fingers up Matty's back. "It wasn't in spite of you. Nothing is in spite of you, we're a team."

"I don't know that I know how to be on the team," Matty insists. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do or what it's supposed to look like. I have never had a good model of a healthy relationship. I mean, my parents got divorced and before that, they were always working and my mum was drinking and they fought and I don't wanna fight but that's my only reference point."

"You've been in other relationships, love, you have more references than your parents," George says. He realizes that's probably the wrong thing to have said as soon as he says it but Matty scoffs and doesn't give him a chance to add anything.

"And they were all at least kinda shit," he says. "They were all, every single one of them, centered around fighting or fucking or me using and I've never gotten along with someone like I do you. I can't ruin this, but I ruin things. I'm hard to get along with."

"You don't ruin things," George responds. "You don't, and you're not hard to get along with."

"I am," Matty insists. "People don't like me, not really. You spend too long around me and I lose all my intrigue and I'm just-" he shrugs "-too much, I guess. I don't know, but I'm difficult. And, and I'm broken. I'm fucked in the head. People aren't gonna like me any more now than they did before. I want people to like me. At least I was fun on coke. Now I'm just, dunno, kinda shit."

"Matty," George murmurs, running his hand down Matty's back. "Can you look at me, love?"

Dutifully, Matty moves to prop himself up on his elbows to look at George.

"None of that is true. You're not broken. You are not broken, Matthew," George says. "And who cares what everyone in the world thinks? You are loved by the people around you, the people who matter. I love you."

Matty doesn't say anything for a few moments. It's not that he needs everyone in the world to like him, it's just that his life has been a parade of failed relationships because he's difficult. People have walked away from him all his life because he's hard to be around, because he's hard to take. He can't take it George walks away, too. He can't take it if he pushes George away, too.

"Sweetheart?" George asks when Matty is quiet for too long.

"I can't lose you, George," Matty says, still looks at George with impossibly big, sad eyes. "I can't do this wrong, but I don't know how to do it right."

George combs a hand through Matty's hair, gentle and kind, and says, "We'll do it together, yeah? We'll figure out how to do it right together."

"I'm gonna get it wrong," Matty mumbles. "I'm gonna do it wrong and you'll hate me."

"I could never hate you," George says, urging Matty close again.

"But I'm fucked up. I'm broken."

"You're not broken. You're not fucked up. I love you."

Matty doesn't say anything.

George combs his fingers through Matty's hair again and carefully asks, "You're not dropping, are you?"

Matty shakes his head. "Not dropping, no, just, um, dysfunctional."

"Kinda worries me when you say things like that when we're this position."

"Sorry," Matty mumbles. "It's easier to say some things like this, is all, I think. I don't know why, it just it. I think it's 'cause you know and you, you still want me. You still like me."

"'course I want you," George says. "'course I still like you. You're not broken. You're not gonna run me off. You're not gonna ruin this. You're not gonna loose me. Matty, I have stayed by you through everything, you think the line would really be you wanting some alone time?"

"No," Matty admits. "I don't know."

"I know," George murmurs. "I've got you, though. We'll figure it out."