plantinghobbies

[plantinghobbies]

Three: No Mirrors for Monsters

Guyyyyys, where has 7 months gone!?! Ok well I’m back at it and already writing chapter 5 and feel like I finally know where this little imagination thread is going with Matty and Tess. Thanks as always to @sycophanticsolipsism for being a champion through all of my 800 drafts of this thing and being the best beta, friend and muse. And to you for reading and letting me know what you think!

Growing Pains Masterlist

The walks had begun out of necessity, something to break up the monotonous hours between waking up and going to the bar most nights to help out. (It had actually been her therapist’s idea - “you time,” Janice had coined with a smirk, already familiar with the eye roll she’d be on the receiving end of. “Not everything has to have a purpose Tess, sometimes it’s good to just be.) B(e) - as in boredom. Which is exactly what she’d been drowning in since she moved a few months ago. Walking was boring but at least it had a - she hates how months working with Janice has made purpose feel like a four-letter word - point. 

She hadn’t felt this way in fifteen years, that itchy feeling like an electric current in her limbs, making it feel physically impossible to sit still (a doctor once told her that it was ADHD, that she could get tested, but Tess caught a big case and by the time she surfaced back in New York after the deal went through, the woman had moved her practice upstate). 

When Tess was twelve, she’d bribed Darby Scantlon’s idiot brother to let her ride along with him to UNC Asheville twice a week to sit in on his classes. It had taken months of saving up her babysitting money to cover the extortionist fee he “required” for gas (read: beer money) as well as the fake ID from the stoners he tipped her off to who hung out behind the local high school. But she was determined, bored out of her skull in her classroom and starry-eyed at the UNC pamphlet she’d picked up promising her challenging experiences with cutting-edge learning. She’d told her teachers she was missing class to go to therapy, told her mom she had joined an aeronautics club after school and told Darby she’d never speak to her again if she uttered a word. It took almost two months before she was found out, when her mother ran into Principal Stewart at the grocery store and remarked how much Tess was enjoying learning about space. All hell broke loose after that - nobody in the town soon forgot when her mother charged into the movie theater Mrs. Scantlon worked at hollering about her son kidnapping Tess. Darby didn’t talk to her for a month.

But it was worth it. Because when the professor of the class she’d been squatting in found out that his best student (based on grades, the professor had 212 students and had never actually met Tess) was actually a twelve year old, he’d called Tess’s parents and convinced them to let her stay in the class and take more (when he called the first time, it was 6:30 and her mother had scolded him for interrupting dinner and hung up. Thankfully, he waited an hour and called back). The turning point in her life and she couldn’t even remember the teacher’s name, her young mind discarding it long ago. 

What she could remember was everything else about that night, from the congealed Mac and cheese she was pushing around her plate and the humming melody of cicadas that drifted in with the breeze through the kitchen window. The shrill ring of the phone had surprised them all and her mother clutched her hand to her chest as she went to answer it (even years after the cordless phone became cheap and commonplace, her parents held on to the corded wall unit. So I can monitor your brothers, her mother had said). Her ears had perked up at the mention of her professor’s name, then her whole body had deflated at the quick trill of the phone as her mother dropped the receiver back down. When her dad had asked why the professor was bothering to call back (“I thought we were done with all that talk of extra schoolin?”), her mom had shrugged and slid the cloth napkin back into her lap with a breezy “Well, no harm in hearing what he has to say.” 

Fifteen years later, Tess wonders if that was actually true. 

“Sooo, do you live around here?” Oh shit, she’d forgotten about him. The guy from the lawn that she’d been playing some weird game of chicken with for the last several days. Tess feels awkward suddenly, like when you flirt with someone across a crowded bar, just some harmless fun while you wait for your drink, and then he makes a beeline right toward you. She enjoyed chasing after something but didn’t really know what to do when she caught it. 

“Uhm” The leash pinches her fingers as she hauls Dale back from lunging at a squirrel. She hisses, switching her grip and shaking them out under his watchful eye. “I’m staying a few blocks over.”

“Staying?” He’s cute, scrunching his nose up as if he literally smells something fishy. “Huh. I thought for sure you were a local. I thought you seemed a bit familiar at the bar.”

“Well, technically I am. I’m from about an hour from here.” They’re standing in the middle of the sidewalk, Dale’s nose pressed firmly to the backside of another dog, sniffing in greeting. For a moment, Tess is reminded of how often that nose is nuzzled against her own face, then thinks better of it. “But I’m in town for a little while.”

“Me too. Well, the here for a bit part of what you said at least.” They continue their walk, Tess charting a path from memory and this man seemingly content to follow alongside her. She can see his curious side-eye. He’s clearly a talker. “Umm, what brings you back?”

Tess doesn’t take her eyes off the pavement in front of her. She’s not sure what to say. (It’s nice meeting someone who doesn’t already know - seems like everyone else does.) How much time do you have random stranger?! Where would she even start? ‘Ok, so my Mom’ - Nope, not going there. ‘And my Dad’ - yea, way too soon. ‘Well, I’m 28 and I’ve got no idea what the fuck I’m doing’. Not something she’s going to divulge to a handsome stranger. She settles for something close to the truth. “Family stuff.”

That’s about all she wants to say on the topic so she changes it. “What about you? Your accent sort of gives away the not being from here so…”

“Me?” Tattoos peak out on both arms as he flexes around a subtle stretch. The devil’s brand, her grandmother used to call tats but Tess has always found them oddly enticing. That someone could feel so sure about something that they wanted it forever. Tess has never felt that way about anything. 

“Yea, what brings you to Asheville?” 

“Oh, um….work.” It’s a boring answer which probably means it’s a boring job. She doesn’t ask more, unable to feign interest in asinine topics before she’s had at least two cups of coffee. And even then she’d only ever made it about ten minutes (and that was to close a $3 billion client).

The rest of their walk is done in relative silence, a feeling which Tess doesn’t mind but her companion seems to be less familiar with. There seems to be a million things on the tip of his tongue, his mouth opening frequently before he shakes his head and closes it. It’s not often that Tess finds herself attracted to someone and she’d like a little more time to analyze it, understand why his perfect curls draw her in when others don’t, why her fingers itch to trace his tattoos. Just as she’s wondering if she can snap a picture without him knowing, they’ve reached her house. There’s a split second when she considers whether she should keep walking on so he doesn’t know her address (healthy paranoia in her mind, a product of too much Dateline if you ask the rest of her family) but there’s something about him that makes her feel comfortable, familiar. (That’s just how people described Ted Bundy, you fool! A small voice in her head shrieks). 

Dale stops, already knowing they’re home, and Tess thumbs toward her house, signaling the end of their walk. Before she can wave goodbye, he asks if he can join again tomorrow. She pauses midway through her gate, turning and looking back at him, and recognizes the pacing, the drumming of his hands along her fence, the flickering of his eyes. His body - like hers - seemingly unable to inhabit one space, shifting foot to foot. Taking pity on him, she agrees.

“I’m Matty by the way.” He extends his hand, a large callous running along the side of his index finger. She likes the way his accent clips the t’s in his name. 

She shields her eyes with her left hand as she meets his right. “Tess.”

______________________________________________________________

When Jack said he and Margaret were finally making the move out of New York for somewhere quieter, Matty had figured they were going to New Jersey. He’d had a hard time picturing the Southern town Jack described - “it’s small but not small small you know?” He hadn’t, but now he thinks he gets it. Big enough you don’t have to leave for essentials, small enough that eventually everyone knows you.

Which Matty finds out in a rather mortifying way. 

He’s not sure why he’s been avoiding telling Tess about his… job - life? - fame? (Ugh he hates the sound of that) - about him. It’s not like he’s on a predator registry or wanted for some heinous crime. Or that he has the kind of fame that will bring a disruption to their daily routine. (Media interest - social or otherwise - has significantly died down since the band went on break, fans turning their sites to other interests feeding them with newer content. Matty tries to ignore the fear that creeps in at that thought, that people are losing interest in the band, in him). But he’s enjoying the anonymity, the ability to interact with her without wondering what she’s read about him on the internet. It’s been a long time since he’s interacted with someone as just Matty, and never as 35-year-old version of himself trying to claw his way into adulthood. 

For all his ego, he’d like to get some credit for the fact that it never crossed his mind that she already knew. It finally comes up after the older lady who runs the local coffee shop they’ve been frequenting says ‘bye Matty’ despite them never meeting. He’s a little surprised that the first person to recognize him is not a coed from the local university but a retiree, he thought he knew his demographic a little better. 

“So, I guess that was weird” he holds the door for Tess and she walks ahead, unleashing Dale from the tree he’s been resting under. “Ehm, I should probably tell you - well, it” he clears his throat, unsure suddenly how to talk about this without sounding like a self-involved dickhead “it….may happen, - like I don’t think that much but just -“

“Huh?” She’s looking at him sideways and honestly, that’s a fair response, he’s not making much sense. 

When she finally catches on to what he’s trying to say, she barks out a laugh so loud it startles the dog, who crouches into a fighting position in response. After she collects herself (“Wait, oh my god, do you think -“ Mrs. Markovitch?! A diehard fan?! Oh god, I might pee my pants”), she tells him to get over himself. “Everyone knows everyone around here. These people only watch Jeopardy, the Macy’s Day Parade, and sports. You aren’t famous enough to have penetrated their radar.” Well, he’d felt like a twat and she hadn’t let him live it down, taking the piss out of him every time someone called him by name from then on (“Oh they probably read your latest spread in Pitchfork down at the senior center”). He’d been happy to learn that she knew and didn’t care (“You kind of stick out, honestly. It wasn’t that hard to find you.”), that this mountain that he had built up between them had turned out to be a molehill. It had been a long time since he’d spent time with someone who wasn’t at all tied to his work in some way.  Or who could be counted on to cut his ego off at the knees. Outside of Jack, he hadn’t felt that intimacy with anyone since tour ended. It further intoxicated him - he’d always been a sucker for a woman who could put him in his place. He wouldn’t delude himself that he was immune to her other charms either - her wit, her laughter, her fucking beauty - he was a man after all. He thinks he can sense the same in her, a love of this cat and mouse game between them. They’ve begun to flirt a little more flagrantly - there’d been a moment the other day with a shared fork at breakfast that made him feel like a teenager again - but nothing that couldn’t be explained away between friends. Matty craved more - more jokes and references and intimacy to collect just between them. More ties to her. 

He doesn’t have to wait long for retaliation material, spotting Tess later that week while passing a fitness studio on a smoke break from the studio. Although, she’s kind of hard to miss, dancing around and flailing her arms. He can’t hear the music but can tell instantly that she’s off beat, struggling to keep rhythm with the others. Twirling, squatting, tripping over her feet. She’s a mess - and he can’t look away. But instead of embarrassment at her clear lack of coordination, his mind is flooded with images of dancing with her, trying to teach her. Them dancing in her kitchen, him guiding her hips as they sway, her grinding those hips against him as he leans down to brush his lips against hers. 

A car horn snaps him out of his daydream. He’s aware of what he must look like, can see the headlines now – Hard-Up Healy Turned Peeping Tom. But Matty lingers just a little longer than is polite, eyes darting around hoping to catch hers. Just as he resigns himself to snapping a stealthy pic to take the piss out of her with later, she spots him. A cheshire cat grin breaks out on his face as a look of horror passes over hers. The accompanying thumbs up is unnecessary - but he’s a little shit, what can he say. Tess levels him with a death glare that would have been truly breathtaking if it hadn’t been interrupted by her abrupt collision with the woman next to her, the poor victim grasping Tess’s shoulders to try to help her get back on tempo. He caught the “fuck off” she mouthed at him before he turned and strode away, cackling loudly. 

______________________________________________________________

“Oh my God, that song was proper awful.”

“Fuck off, it’s incredible! I lost my virginity to that song…”

The words are thrown over her shoulder as they navigate her front steps, moving slowly under the weight of their haul from the farmer’s market. Matty almost misses a step at this reveal.

“Oooh sexy, give me the deets” A laugh bubbles up unbidden at the valley girl affect in his voice.

Dale almost tips her over as she roots around in her pocket for her keys. Once inside, she dumps the bags on the kitchen counter, unpacking a random assortment of veggies. 

“No way, I’m not trading sex stories with a rockstar.” Matty grabs plates for their breakfast sandwiches as she settles on the couch, thumbing through the local paper to the crossword puzzle, pulling it out and handing him the rest. Reading up on the local drama had become a guilty pleasure of his.

She knew he wouldn’t drop it, he was like a dog with a bone and no sense of boundaries - his drug addiction, his band, his family, and now his sex life all openly discussed. She had lifelong friends she knew less about than him. And listen, she wasn’t a prude, talking about sex didn’t bother her - except talking about her first time meant talking about school and that meant talking about -

“Claire Murphy when we were fourteen in her parents’ basement. Decidedly not-rockstar. Now spill.” 

She didn’t need to know who Matty was when she first met him to know he was “somebody”. He had an air about him, like he’d never met a room he wasn’t comfortable in. Tess knew the type - cocky, attention-seeking, monied. No thank you, she assumed. It’s why she’d bailed out at the bar, dodged him after. She had been glad to be wrong, glad to find out that while he was all the above, it was oddly endearing instead of asshole-ish. But comparison was a thief that visited her often. It was bad enough when she was comparing herself to her coworker’s dogwalker – it’s why she’d gotten off social media. But juxtaposing her life with a fucking rich rockstar?! She didn’t need that kind of ammo.

And yet, it seemed unavoidable right now. “OK, nevermind, I’ll just ask your brother at the bar tonight.” Fuck it, if he’s going to find out anyway, might as well be from her. Her friends don’t understand why it’s such a big deal for her to tell new people (“Tess, you’re a genius not an axe murderer”) but she prefers when people don’t know. Before the deluge of questions - ‘wait, what’s your IQ? Could you even live in the dorms at 15? Did you get fucking laid in law school being that young?’ That last one had only been asked once and Ben had almost ended up in the city jail for decking the guy. All these questions asked by people who were either surprised that she - Tess, really? - was that smart or were just interested in the salacious goings on of a 15-year-old on a college campus (gross). When that subsides, when she’s answered all the questions and reviewed the timeline of her life over and over, they still look at her different. New friends feel inferior, prospective boyfriends feel threatened. It’d been more of a problem in the isolation of New York, here she had her family and old friends and hadn’t bothered to try to make any new ones. 

Tess plays with the remains of her breakfast sandwich to distract from the uncertainty of how to spill her mess out in front of him. “Fourteen too, my high school’s football field, freshman year of college.” 

Cue the confused look, this scene playing out exactly the way that every other had - Tess playing herself, Matty now cast in the role of the potential love interest (she was far from immune from his charms). “Wait, I thought the American system was…”

Time for Tess’s monologue, the scary uncertain times of her life now scripted down to a tight thirty seconds - college classes at twelve led to an accelerated learning program (the first of it’s kind at her school), finished high school at fourteen, Harvard grad at seventeen (“Yes that Harvard, Matty, please just let me get this out”), law school til 21, firm job until left at 27, ending up right back where she started, helping her brother run his bar while she figures out what’s next. 

There were a few things she’d left out, she needed it to sound cleaner, more deliberate, than it actually was. To stick the landing when in reality it felt like she’d stumbled right off the mat. Because as much as she wished she was a woman who could own her mistakes in the face of someone she was interested in - ok, she fucking really likes him - she’s just not that enlightened yet. She’s still the chicken-shit scared girl who lost her virginity to the first boy who treated her even halfway normal on her first trip home from Boston for semester break. 

Matty’s eyes track her, Tess can feel the weight of them, but she can’t bring hers to meet his. It feels like what he says next could make or break her happiness right now, frail as it is. He’s a bright spot for her, whether she admits it or not. Pathetic. 

The smack of his hands on his knees startles her but it’s a familiar sound. She’s seen this film before - he’ll pat his knees and talk about how impressive she is, how lucky anyone would be to know her, but he just remembered he’s got somewhere to be and -  “Well, THAT explains a lot.” 

His exaggerated voice is entirely for her benefit, that much is obvious. What isn’t is where he’s going with this. “Huh?” For all her IQ, that’s the most she can muster.

“Why you make such a shit drink. I knew it was nepotism but I figured if you’d been a lifelong bartender you at least would have….”

“Oh shut the fuck up” she grabs a pillow and smashes it against his head, a little giddy with the way this was not going as she expected. 

He catches the pillow and pins it between them on the couch, along with her hands momentarily, and then his arms pulled back as if he’d been stung. She picks up her plate again to channel the energy that’s suddenly coursing through her. 

He’s eyeing the leftovers now as she pinches the bread crust between her fingers. She offers it for him to take, still can’t figure out what the fuck to say or where to go from here. He shovels it into his mouth, licking his fingers with a muffled thank you. A smear of aioli lines the corner of his lip, taunting her. Every salacious thought she’d had about him over the last few weeks dripped into her brain all at once. Which is the only explanation she has for what she does next. With a steadiness she certainly didn’t feel, she reaches up, dragging the pad of her finger across his Cupid’s bow before popping it in her own mouth, licking off the remnants of sauce. 

Matty’s sharp inhale brings her back to herself. Good going Tess. He’d stuck around through the weird college stories just for you to run him off by being a complete creep. But there’s no mistaking the look on his face. If he hightails it in the other direction now, she’ll at least be comforted that while he may think she is a total creep, she’s a total creep that he’s at least somewhat attracted to. Their gazes remain locked for what feels like forever - her trembling hand suspended in the air, his eyes flitting across her face as if he can’t pick one thing to focus on. Is it her imagination or is he leaning toward her? Oh god! 

Dale’s bark at a distant siren jolts her from her thoughts. They break eye contact, and she feels a pang of disappointment at the lost opportunity. So close. He clears his throat. “Well, in terms of interesting childhoods, I still think I have you beat.” She laughs harder than the joke warrants, grateful to him for steering them through the visceral tension in the room.” I’m serious! Let me show you!”

Her laugh rings off the kitchen walls as he reaches for his phone, already pulling up Google. 

______________________________________________________________

Matty has to fly to New York to meet with a session musician that Jack loves, their baby due any day and them unable to travel. The night he gets back, she texts him that she’s TBD for the morning walk. Apparently, Dale is vomiting all over the place and she can’t leave him. The disappointment is palpable, he’d been looking forward to seeing her more than he’d realized. Rumpled from jet lag and hours of flying, he crawls into bed and catches up on sleep and tv. 

When he doesn’t hear from her at sunrise, his curiosity is peaked. He’d probably call it borderline worried if that didn’t sound so loaded, serious. They’d texted a few times while he was gone, inane messages of adult life - she took in his mail, he had a package, she threatened to post the contents on Instagram if he didn’t bring her back Magnolia bread pudding. But they weren’t quite at call each other - hell, it seems these days (he knows how he sounds) that the bar for ringing someone was strictly reserved for emergencies and your mum. But worry overwhelms his awkwardness. The low din of background noise is his first clue that something isn’t right, that she’s not home. Her voice is frazzled as she tells him she and Dale are at the emergency vet. Apparently, Dale had gotten worse, he’d been having trouble staying upright.

“I panicked” she admits, though it sounds to him like it was the right call. 

She says she’s fine and that she’ll keep him posted. He spends about a half an hour putting about the house - debating if it would be weird to show up there. He thinks about Dale - such a sweet thing, so eager and trusting of everyone and everything he encountered. He thinks of her, how much he knows she loves that dog, how attached they are, how she seems unwilling to bother anyone in her life until she absolutely needs to. It’s that image, of her alone, that has him grabbing his keys. If he’s not going to be able to focus on anything else, might as well go where his mind is already, patience never his strong suit.

She seems unsure of what to do with him when he appears in the waiting room, and Matty wonders if he shouldn’t have come. When he’d walked through the door with coffee, he didn’t miss the way her eyebrows shot to her hairline. It had clearly caught her off guard. For a moment he has a horrifying thought - well, a series of them that all flow from a fear that he’s misread everything up to now, the flirting, the intimacy, the well everything. That she’s not  alone here as he assumed, that any second shes going to introduce him to her hot boyfriend, some doctor or contractor or someone equally capable, a quality that Matty is deeply aware he’s never been called a day in his life. And they are both going to stare at him, wondering what it is that he - scattered, untrained, ordinary Matty - thought he could do in this crisis situation. But  nobody appears and she gestures to the empty space next to her. 

Sliding a chair over to sit next to her, he finds himself at a loss for what to say. The muscles in her arms are tense as she grips the sides of the chair she’s sitting on, leg bouncing, eyes darting to the doors leading to the back area every time it opens. Anxiety is rolling off of her in waves so strong he swears he can feel them, he’s unsure how to be around her right now.  Is she someone who appreciates a laugh when she’s stressed? Would she snap at him if he said something trite.

In the end, its his curiosity that gets the best of him. “Do they know what’s wrong?”

“Umm” Her voice is hoarse with misuse and suppressed emotion when she goes to speak, clears her throat, and tries again. “They are pretty sure he ate something but they don’t know-.”

“Like what…” he begins but her sharp look cuts him off. 

“I don’t know what! Clearly if I did, we wouldn’t be in this situation, ok?” Even though he knows the rebuke is empty, driven by fear and misunderstanding, his hackles still go up at the sharpness in her tone. He was just asking. 

Silence stretches between them, punctuated by a sigh as she turns his way. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just exhausted. He and I were out yesterday at my Dad’s so maybe… but I don’t know - I’m so careful…” 

Her words trail off as she goes back to staring at the door, as if willing Dale to come through it. Matty can’t do anything for her and he doesn’t like feeling useless, unproductive. The urge to flee is strong, this was a mistake. He resolves to stay a few minutes longer, so that she doesn’t think that he’s leaving because she was short with him. 

Just as he’s about to get up and make his exit, with some lame excuse about studio time, a young woman in a white coat appears and calls Tess’s name. A soft, trembling hand - the first time he’s held it, but he pushes that thought to the back of his mind for later - grasps his as the vet makes her way over. Finally, something to do, however small. 

The vet’s face doesn’t give anything away and in the short time before she gets to them, it dawns on Matty that the news may not be good. When he’d decided to come here, he was picturing her throwing herself at him out of relief and gratitude that he was there and with an update that Dale was already better. Selfish – the word ricochets across his mind. He hadn’t really stopped to ponder that it could be bad news. Or the worst. Should he really be the person there when she found out her dog died?! Did they have that kind of relationship? 

Before he can overthink it – well, overthink it any more than he already has – the vet is in front of them. “Here for Dale?” Dr. Sheldon, according to her badge, smiles and Tess’s grip relaxes just a little bit. So does his own. Surely, a smile is a good sign.

“Well, umm, he clearly ingested something but he’s stable” Matty squeezes Tess’s hand, cautiously optimistic. “He’s a fighter. And a real charmer, got the ladies eating right out of his paw.”

Matty has to physically hold back an eye roll. Is this really the time for jokes?

“We’re going to keep him overnight for observation but if things continue to improve, he should be able to go home tomorrow.” At those words, Tess sags against him in relief, as if the anxiety had been keeping her upright. Caught off guard, Matty’s fingers slip over her waste, pulling her to him to steady her. Smiling and accepting her impromptu hug of gratitude, the doctor mentions that someone will be out with some paperwork before turning to leave. 

Sagging back into their chairs, Matty notices a single tear rolling down her face. On instinct, he brings his hand up to her cheek, just barely grazing it as he catches the tear with his index finger and swipes it away. Their knees brush as she shifts in front of him and her gaze locks with his for a split second before she’s glancing away toward the front desk.

“Thanks for being here” she says finally, her green eyes - so unlike his own - glistening back at him. Not for the first time he’s struck by how beautiful she is - Jesus Healy not the time! And definitely not the place. While the couple of days in New York definitely clarified his interest in her - strong enough that he’d ignored a booty call from a regular hookup while there - but he still felt conflicted about fucking up his only friendship in town. (Don’t shit where you eat the sound engineer at the studio had said the other day and while a vile image, it was effective). The album had been moving at a weird place and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be here - could be weeks, could be months.

“Don’t mention it.” A sudden feeling of foolishness washes over him, embarrassment that he made such a big deal out of this by coming down here when Dale is going to be just fine. This feels like he’s put his heart on his sleeve in a way he didn’t intend to. Not even her friends came, and here he is rushing down to her like he’s got a claim to. 

But then he’s driving her home (“my hands are too shaky”) and heating up soup and sitting on the floor in front of the couch watching a movie because the house had seemed too quiet to her. 

And then just as she’s losing the battle with sleep, cocooned in Dale’s favorite blanket, she whispers “I’m glad you were there today…” 

It’s a sucker punch, all the air pushed from his chest and replaced with a flush of warmth that spreads to the tips of his fingers, his toes, into his goddamn hair follicles. Fuck. 

“Me too…” 

[plantinghobbies]

Mary Lambert

[plantinghobbies]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-Three

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: Another update this week?? I'm as shocked as anyone else, but hopefully this one will make up a little for the last! It's longer and a little less, um, idk, I can't say emotional?? because that would be a lie:/ Still, there are some developments! Also, it'll make sense a lot later but the 2nd image and the use of a Ride song are used in this one!

Hope you enjoy! Also thank you for all the love on this current series, it means a whole lot and keeps me writing xx

Warnings: similar to that of the last post! so pls look back there if you'd like to know!:)

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

“I said no.”

Stressed was a feeling beyond words at this point. The past couple of days all I’d had was press hounding at me, calling and texting, emailing at all hours of the fucking day. They wouldn’t let up, even after I’d stayed silent. Adi reckoned it was mostly down to Teddy’s involvement in the whole thing. I didn’t want to think much more about it, although I knew she wasn’t wrong.

“Give me a reason at least?"

I shot a scathing glare over my shoulder before turning back to the filing system I’d taken to reorganising. It was my first morning back at the studio since... yeah, well Finn had Teddy- another factor to my current load of stress- whilst Adi was off doing something or other. I hadn’t asked, fearful of putting more of a strain on her current friendship- relationship??- with Ross, so instead I’d just chosen to tidy and rearrange the entire setup we had going on here. Because that was perfectly normal. And not a fucking way to evade talking or thinking about the mess that was my life. Okay?

“I don’t need a fucking reason, I just don’t want to.” I retorted, hissing slightly when I suddenly cut my thumb on the edge of a document. I withdrew my hand quickly and raised it towards my mouth, letting my eyes slip close for a moment when I heard a footfall step closer.

“Let me see.” Jamie sighed, probably thinking I’d done something worse to my hand than just a papercut. To be fair, the cabinet was old. One of them filing types from the ninety’s that we’d gotten for a score down at some boot sale, so I wouldn't be surprised if one of us did eventually end up losing an arm.

I shook my head and pushed the cabinet drawer closed, “It’s fine, just a papercut.”

Jamie huffed an amused chuckle before settling down on the edge of the desk nearby. It was Adi’s, you could tell from the sheer amount of shit she had accumulating it.

“One thing after another with you.”

My head tilted towards him with a deadened expression, “Ha ha.”

The older man raised his hands up in a mocking surrender, showing he hadn’t meant any real harm. “Too soon?”

I kicked at the toe of the leather boots he wore in retort as I moved towards the kitchenette, aware that he was just trying to lighten my horrendous mood but not really in the right mind for it. 

“You want a brew?” I asked, not bothering to give him an honest reply to that question of his. Too soon? Yes, that was all too fucking true.

“Have a coffee if there’s one going.”

I dipped my head in a slight nod, filling the kettle and setting it to boil before snagging the coffee often reserved for guests on the show from a shelf nearby.

Jamie moved to better face me on Adi’s desk as I did so, wearing that same expression he’d turned up in, all concerned and weary. It bothered me a bit, seeing as though it was all I had garnered since the press had had their field day with my life, but I could also understand why. They all just seemed to feel for the idiot stupid enough to fall into another of Matty Healy’s traps.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” He wondered around a light chortle at my demand, hands falling to rest between his thighs.

I gestured towards his face whilst I poured a splash of milk into my mug, “Looking at me like that, like I’m gonna break or something.”

With a sigh, he pressed his lips together. “You know it’s not like that.” I rolled my eyes in return but he just bounded on, “You know it’s not, I just care is all.”

I forced out a breathless chuckle, “That why you’re here trying to get me to hear him out then?”

To be fair to him, Jamie had come right out with it when he’d first popped by, having messaged me asking after my whereabouts earlier this morning. I’d told him, having spoken to him quite a bit over the last couple days, and then found him on the doorstep. 

Jamie had been good with everything. He’d let me vent, rally against one of his friends and clients, question his own motives- and hadn’t even complained one bit. But now he was here asking me to give Matty a chance, a lot like he’d done that first time around in that small cafe all those months ago.

“I know you’re angry, you have every right to be.”

“Of course I’m fucking angry!” I immediately shot back at him, the rattle of the teaspoon ringing out as I dropped it into a mug, “I wouldn’t care if it had just been me he’d gone and fucked over! But he brought Teddy into this shit, Jamie. My son! So tell me, how am I supposed to hear him out after he’s done something like that and then lied about it? For weeks, mind you.”

Jamie looked back at me, wearing that ‘this meant business’ mug of his. I slumped at the sight, pressing my knee against one of the lower cabinets to continue stirring the drinks. I didn’t care, I didn’t care, I didn’t care.

“There’s a lot you don’t know, Mouse.”

My eyes slipped closed at his words and I took a second to just breathe. Because I wasn’t angry, not really. I was hurt and humiliated, and just so fucking sad. Fed up with it all, if I was being honest. Enough so that I knew that Jamie was being truthful here- and not just because it was a fact that I hadn’t spoken to Matty since things had fallen apart, but also because I hadn’t had the heart to ask Teddy about things yet. Or if ever.

The kid was four. Four, and asking after a man every night before he fell asleep and then as soon as he opened his eyes the next morning.

He knew something was up, he was smart like that. But what was I meant to do- to say? When I was just as confused as he was.

I’d ended up leaving him with Finn today, having had no other choice in the situation because the nursery was closed for an inset day, or some shite like that, and it seemed I had no other friends than the few around me. 

Could quite literally count the lot of them on one hand. 

But still, Finn and I’s relationship had still been rather rocky after that whole incident with him and Matty, and hadn’t improved since. In fact, he’d been a little unbearable about everything, always one to toot his own horn whenever he was right about something. But it was always slyly and I couldn’t help but feel as though it was a constant dig, like even when he wasn’t commenting on it he was still thinking it whenever he looked at me.

Which felt so horrible to think, let alone say out loud. He was my best friend. So I’d kept my mouth shut and just dealt with it, like I did everything else in life.

“He’s messed up about it.” Jamie then spoke, his voice having startled me a tad, breaking me out of my musings. He was watching me again, only when he did it, it didn’t feel as condescending as everyone else's. Like he understood my position. And I guessed that he probably sort of did.

“I bet.” I scoffed quietly, an airy titter escaping through my nose, and then I turned to toss my teabag away.

“It’s true.” Jamie shrugged, then nodded in thanks when I pushed a coffee his way. “He’s been ‘round Ross’s ever since shit hit the fan, hasn’t left the flat. Driving the lot of us mad, but he’s torn up, Mouse.”

Tongue in cheek, I wrapped my hands around my cup and propped my hip up against the counter, staring into the still swirling liquid. “Serves him right, I guess.” I replied with a soft shrug of my own, though we both knew I didn’t quite mean it.

Jamie looked over towards one of the windows to the right, most of them were either way too long or too tiny for the space, an odd build, but this particular one gave way to the skyline lying over the remainder of the city. I often wondered what the lower levels might look out at, thinking it was probably the majority of the surrounding buildings, and couldn’t help but feel a little thankful that we’d managed to snag this unit.

When he glanced back over at me, I took a sip and let him speak.

“A lot went on, that much I know, and it’s your choice how you deal with it. But, I saw the two of you. I saw him change. Which is stupid to say, I know, but it doesn’t stop it from being true. He was different with you, he actually tried in other aspects of his life and not just with the band and the music. He looked genuinely happy.” He smiled softly at the eye roll I gave, but it didn’t appear to deter him. “Don’t get me wrong, I know you didn’t fucking cure him. Don’t work like that, does it? But you helped. You and Teddy both.”

I looked away then, back towards the window, unable to really help it, and instead allowed my eyes to trail over the clouds which powdered the dusty blue sky. 

“It was different. Things were different, and I know that there was love there. There couldn’t not have been. The way he looked at you…” Jamie shook his head ever so slightly as he breathed out, unaware of just how deeply his words had cut. But then he peered over at me and I found myself already looking back, air caught somewhere in the swell of my lungs. 

“Don’t.” I choked out, the grip on my mug having tightened tenfold. “Just,” I shook my head.

Jamie put his coffee down on the desk and moved to stand, hands raised to convey he wasn't a threat. “I’m not saying this to hurt you more, love. Just telling you how I saw it.”

I licked at my lower lip, casting my eyes downwards. Our silence stretched and all could be heard was the odd car horn and chirp from beyond the walls of the studio, until-

“Anyone here?”

I blinked back the tears which had started to well in my eyes and sniffed, head shooting up just in time to spot a familiar giant ducking their head under the beam of the doorway, limbs following right after.

George entered but then stopped short when he spotted his manager stood by me, and I laughed to myself at the way the pair of them seemed to eye one another, before stepping in, “Didn’t hear you ring the buzzer.”

Kind eyes darted over to find my soft smile then, welcoming him in, and so George finally moved in closer, laying the jacket he wore to rest over one of the armchairs.

“Yeah, someone was just leaving and let me in.” He answered my unasked question, shrugging as he added, “Dunno whether they recognised me or if they just let anyone up.”

“Probably the second,” Jamie piped up, seemingly having broken himself from his previous bout of surprise, “This lot ‘round here don’t give much of a shit about crap like that.”

I rolled my eyes, but was glad to have a reason to smile slightly. “Or they spotted the BFG making his way over and wanted to avoid pissing him off.”

Jamie cackled whilst George just shot me a narrow-eyed look, “Hilarious. That pot just boiled?” He asked me as he wandered over. I nodded in turn and moved to grab him a cup, only faltering when he lowered my hand with his own and shook his head. “I got it.”

I dipped my head slightly, blinking before taking a step back to let him work. He made a quick go of it, rummaging around the cupboards briefly to find what he needed and only asking for the spoon I still held for some odd reason when he was near done. 

Jamie appeared to have been watching him too, a calculating glaze to his eyes, and he chose that next moment to speak up, “How you been anyway, George? Not seen much of you lately.”

Something unspoken passed between them when George glanced over at him, but I couldn’t tell what.

“Good, busy.” Was what the taller decided on, throwing Jamie a quick smile when he crossed to toss his own teabag in the bin before settling on the counter to the left of me. “You?”

It almost sounded sarcastic, not how he said it but simply because he’d asked it at all, knowing everything that had recently occurred. It must have been a right nightmare for Jamie these last few days, what with him being the band’s main man.

Jamie just laughed though, goodnaturedly, though it was apparent that he was still trying to suss out what was going on, what with George’s sudden appearance. Seeing as I’d never once mentioned him to Jamie.

See, things with George had all started after that studio session Teddy had attended, followed by my wishing him a happy birthday just before Matty had gone and done what he did best. Wrecked it all.

Teddy had become all too smitten with the drummer since he’d first been introduced to the band and their many songs and music videos. He enjoyed the guitar he’d been gifted an awful lot, often playing with it and practising, but each time any sort of song played on the tele or the radio, or even in the car, it wasn’t hard to note the way Teddy instantly mimicked George’s swift movements, pretending to drum along to whatever beat heard. 

George had messaged me on Instagram later that same day, seeing as how apparently Teddy’s appearance at the studio had stuck with him, and asked after him a little. It seemed strange worded like that, but George reckoned that Teds had a real streak of a musicality about him, even as young as he was, and wanted to see if Teddy would be up for learning some more. 

Which had been a Godsend, honestly, what with how the next couple of days had gone down. I’d given him my number via dm just before the storm had started and then the afternoon that had followed the plethora of articles he’d called.

He’d asked how I was at first, almost consoling me in that easy way of his, so full of little words, which had been all too refreshing in truth.

I’d had texts and calls off of practically everyone I knew, even Ronan, the utter prick. And none had managed to soothe me quite like George’s had, seeing as the man had been there too. Not quite in my position, sure, but near enough. He’d even let a little of it slip when he’d popped on over that same day, bringing a bag of takeaway and a roll up drum mat as a gift for Teddy, who had been cooped up with me on the sofa for most of the afternoon. 

The two of them had bonded over it rather quickly, Teddy having been caught off guard by George’s sincerity almost as much as I had been. But then I'd found myself getting to know the drummer too and very much appreciating the unnecessary gesture he’d made for me, even with the pair of us not knowing one another as well as we could have.

I had no idea what was going on between him and Matty, I hadn’t had the balls to ask, but he’d mentioned he hadn’t heard much of anything from him since the night of his party, as well as the fact that his girlfriend, Charli, had been just as annoyed with everything that had gone down.

I knew he’d be stopping by at some point today, we’d made plans to get lunch once he’d heard I was back at the studio on my own, but not recording. I reckoned he was concerned and this was his way of showing it, but it was hard to tell with him most of the time seeing as he’d made it out as though I was doing him a favour here. An effort I came to find I much appreciated. 

“Work, you know how it is.” Jamie replied after a long pause. He was still standing in the same position he’d been in since George arrived, but seemed to move then, picking up what was left of his coffee and pouring what remained down the sink. “But I’d best be going, got a couple calls to make. You gonna be at the studio tomorrow?”

George hummed around his next sip, pulling away with only a dip of his chin. “Should be.”

Jamie smiled, nodding, “Good, I’ll let the rest of them know then.”

I caught George’s slight wince at that, though he didn’t protest his manager's comment. It made me wonder.

Jamie turned to me then, shucking on his jacket. I perked up, not having realised that he really was rushing to leave now. “Remember what I said, alright?”

I blinked, but then nodded. How could I forget? I wanted to ask, but instead said, “You don’t have to head out so quick.”

He sent me a reassuring grin as he flipped over the collar of his coat. “You won’t miss me much,” He then teased before roping me into a hug, “Weren’t lying when I said I had a couple calls though, so it’s best I get out of your hair whilst I still can.” 

I smiled softly at the sound of his lighthearted chuckle and nodded before following him over to the door, “Stay safe.”

Jamie rolled his eyes, all too used to my typical parting now, though amused by it all the same. “Can’t promise anything.” He retorted with a smirk, shuffling over the threshold whilst his eyes flickered back to where George still stood once more. “So, about before?”

I inhaled shakily, though Jamie didn’t seem to notice, fingering the pockets of his jacket in search of his mobile. “I’ll think about it.” I told him.

He flashed me a grin at that, pleased, then let his heel trail over to meet the top step of the metal grating. “Talk to you later then.”

I nodded and watched for a second as he descended the staircase, head bobbing down the first set before he turned and disappeared from view. Sliding back inside, I shut the door quietly behind me, taking a second to steel my nerves before facing the room again.

During that time, George had seemingly gone and made himself comfy on the settee, his mug settled on a coffee table coaster. I moved to join him after putting both mine and Jamie’s cups under the tap to rinse before just leaving them to soak.

George was fiddling with something when I sat down beside him but shuffled over a tad to allow me to get more comfortable, “So what was that about?” I questioned.

“With Jamie?” He asked and I nodded, even though I reckoned he already knew what I was on about. 

He shrugged slightly and I noted the way his finger trailed over a slip of folded paper, it was creased as though it had been played or fiddled with a dozen times too many. My brow seemed to furrow at the sight of it. 

“He tried phoning a few times but I’ve not been too keen on answering, learnt that I’ll just get dragged into the drama if I do.” George finally answered, and for some reason I felt a wad of guilt pool in my stomach upon hearing it, even though I hadn’t been the one to cause this mess.

Or maybe I was just kidding myself.

“Sorry.”

George huffed as he turned to peer over at me, elbows resting on the tops of his knees. “Nothing to be sorry for.” He told me and then gifted me a sweet smile, “None of this is on you. Just thought we were in the clear, you know?” He looked away at that and his smile dimmed into something smaller, almost sadder. “Figured I wouldn’t have to go dodging my mates calls anymore, or be roped into cleaning up everyone else’s messes.”

He reached a hand out to settle on my knee then, probably having noticed the way I was chewing on the insides of my cheek, or maybe the fact that my lip was now trembling. I’d never felt so shitty. So at fault for something I hadn’t really seen coming, nor could I prevent.

“Not your fault, remember?” He reiterated to me, squeezing my joint softly before pulling away. I sniffed before looking up at him with a tiny smile. 

“Promise I don’t usually cry this much. Just been a shitty week is all.” I told him, laughing pitifully as I toyed with the hem of the jumper I’d put on earlier that morning when I’d purposefully avoided the hoodie that had been left on my desk chair, as well as the cupboard full of clothes that didn’t belong to me.

I felt the settee dip slightly before I found him sitting right beside me, lifting an arm to wrap me up in a hug. His cheek came to rest on the side of my head and I felt my heart break that little bit more, because it reminded me that in a second, or two, I wouldn’t have that sense of protection he now offered, shielding me from the rest of the world.

“You’ve been put through the wringer.” George murmured and I had to laugh just a little bit, he laughed too, the sound of it reverberating through his chest to where my head rested. “Fucking cry if you want to, alright? No judgement here."

I spluttered a little on my next chuckle, smiling as I wiped at my eyes. George’s arm just tightened its hold by a fraction, as though he knew it would make things that little bit easier. We both sat there like that for a while, and I appreciated the fact that he was okay with a bit of quiet. That he didn’t run scared from it or try to start up an awkward conversation simply to fill it.

Silence was something I’d come to realise that George often favoured. Because sometimes that was all you really needed.

I don’t know how long we continued like that before he shuffled and pulled that same piece of paper from earlier back into view, holding the corner of it between his forefinger and thumb. I pulled away slightly, looking down at it and then back up at him with a small frown.

“What?”

George merely blinked, staring down at the paper with an odd look before he finally placed it in the hand I had resting on my thigh. My frown only deepened.

“What is it?” I asked him, finger trailing over an edge just as he had done when I’d first spotted it. When I went to unfold it from the opposing corner, he stopped me. 

Confused, I turned to raise a brow at him, only to find him already looking back at me. He bit into his lower lip and then flattened his mouth into a stern line, “I found that when I was last in the studio.”

My chest tightened for some reason, but I was still so baffled. “Okay?”

We were sitting up better now, George’s arm having slipped from my shoulders to come to rest in his lap, fingers trailing over his left hand’s rigid set of knuckles.

“I figured you should see it.” He added in his usual drawl, though his eyes flickered up from the paper to catch mine then and I realised it must've been important. He seemed wary enough to warrant it.

I went to unfold it once again, but then his hand really reached out to stop my own, “I don’t know if I should be here when you do.”

That alone made me even more curious, although there was an edge of caution that now warred at me. “Why?”

George gifted me a gentle smile, the hand that still laid over top of my own squeezing kindly. “I’ll go grab us some food, alright? If you want to open it then do, if not. I won’t mention it again.”

He moved to stand then but my hand shot out to grab at the sleeve of his arm, “George.” But I didn’t know what else to say, I knew I was fearful though.

His fingers moved to meet mine, resting there for a short moment, “It’s your choice. Just, I couldn’t keep it from you.”

I swallowed thickly as he pushed to his feet, the scuff off his heavy boots bouncing off the hardwood floors. Slowly he moved to grab his jacket, giving me time to say no, to deny his offer. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t do much of anything really.

The door shut behind him with a soft click a minute later and the quiet of the studio suddenly consumed me. When I glanced back down at the paper I held once more I saw the slight tremble of my hands. I forced myself to exhale, but even that was shaky.

I was careful as I unfolded it, listening to the rustle it made before scrawled lines that had bled through to the other side caught my attention. Pausing, I took a moment to just look at them and then thoughtlessly hurried to reveal the rest of it, taking in its full form. My throat tightened at the sight of familiar scribbles.

You had me from the start  Pulling all the stops out  On the down low, secretly  But I think you knew your psychology  Was working on me  Infatuated  And doing this all wrong  You've got  My number and my name  And you've got me going  Yeah, you've got me going  Can I see you every day?  Do you love me  Like I love you?  Ah, you've got me going  Yeah, you've got me going

(Song: Ride - Future Love)

It was as if something in me had shifted and then turned, sparking itself its very own flame on a bone too sharp and growing and growing until its singed edges burnt and blackened every part of me. 

I must've sat there staring down at it for ages. Crying silently and alone in an empty room, something I’d been avoiding doing since this had all started. Though I supposed it had been inevitable.

His words. His thoughts. Bared to me on a single page. Him none the wiser to any of it. Probably having not even realised it was gone, or missing. And George had read it. He’d seen it and still, after everything, had given them to me.

A tear dropped from my chin then, blotting the page and I could only watch on as the dark ink appeared to cling to it, seeping further and further into the paper. Smudging the ‘Do you love me’ enough so that my breath stuttered and I was suddenly moving all too quickly for my mind to catch up with my thoughtless actions.

Not even a second later my phone was in my hand. 

Messages now To: Jamie O (glasses!) When can he meet me? 

–

Matty had always had a thing for Sundays. 

There was just something about them. Not all that Godly shite that people preached about it being holy and the first day of the week, ‘cause to him Monday would always hold that title- and Monday’s fucking sucked dick. 

No, it was because there was just something peaceful that settled on Sundays, it took him back to simpler times, of days when he’d just been a kid and roast dinners were spent ‘round his nana’s house. Or when Newcastle would play on afternoons and his dad would finally be home to watch with him. 

There was just something about them, you know. He didn’t much believe in luck, typically only the bad sort. But if someone held a gun to his head and told him he had to claim a day which would forever work in his favour, it would just have to be Sunday.

Still, he was unsure on where he currently stood with that sentiment as of late. Seeing as how he was currently in the backseat of a cab, jittery hands clinging onto shaking knees whilst rows of houses, broken up by hues of green and blue, rolled on past him.

It hadn’t been a last minute thing, but it felt much like it. The anticipation was getting to him, he knew that much, sweat licking at the back of his neck whilst his shoulders worked their way up to the lobes of his ears.

Jamie had somehow managed it.

Called him up late last night just before Ross had headed off to bed to tell him that she would finally see him. Jamie’d asked if he’d be alright going alone or if they’d prefer a buffer there, but Matty had immediately declined. So he was doing it alone. Though he couldn’t help but wonder if that had been a misstep on his part, if it would have made things easier on her having someone there, or maybe just given him some semblance of relief as the car slowly drove its way over to her house. The very place he hadn’t stepped foot in since the night of George’s birthday party.

But he hadn’t earnt that reassurance. Felt wrong to bring somebody else along either way. So he was stuck, toying with his phone, hoping or praying that a text wouldn’t come through saying that she’d gone and changed her mind.

It had been just under a week since he’d last seen her. But it felt as though time had dragged out slowly, mocking him or maybe even torturing him for all of his many wrongdoings. 

He fretted over what she might say when she caught sight of him, he himself having only spotted the state he’d worked himself into when he’d been getting ready that morning.

There were heavy bags set beneath his eyes from where he hadn’t really slept and his cheeks were hollowed in that way that they used to revert to when he’d have a particularly hard weekend way back when. If the papers caught wind of him he already knew what the first articles would say, what they would so obviously claim. But he knew the truth, just hoped that she would know it too.

He was startled from his mind at the jerk of the car pulling up onto the nearest curb. His eyes widened in sudden alarm when he realised just what that meant and then caught the look of dismay that crossed the driver’s face when the bloke looked back to announce that they’d arrived. If the man didn’t already think he was on something, then now he definitely did.

Matty swallowed stupidly and then tried for a smile, struggling to undo his seatbelt with the kickstart of shaking that overtook his hands. The driver took pity on him though, turning away to fiddle with something up front that probably didn’t need fiddling with, and finally Matty’s thumb managed to catch the button.

Releasing himself from the confines of the car, he paused just before the door could slam close behind him, handing the man a couple notes in tip, if only to apologise for his edgy behaviour or buy himself a little more time if the driver had somehow managed to suss him out even with his hat, hood and scarf. “Cheers.” He said.

The man blinked at the onslaught of cash and then nodded repeatedly, “Yes, thank you.”

Matty exhaled shakily and then dipped his chin in another goodbye, stepping back onto the curb and watching the cab pull away before he found himself alone once more.

This was it, he supposed.

The street hadn’t changed much in a matter of days but his mind made it seem as though it had. As though suddenly he didn’t belong. The odd man out.

He shoved his hands into the confines of his pockets, pivoting on his heel to face what he’d come here to do. But nothing had prepared him for the way his stomach suddenly bottomed out at the sight of her front door.

The sound of a car horn a way away spooked him, causing him to jump, but did eventually force him forward off the curb and onto the cracked pavement. He stared down at all the dips and curves they had to offer him the entire way up the path until finally, he reached her front steps.

If anyone asked, Matty would tell them it was as though he’d been working on autopilot when he pried the silver knocker up from the wood and let it rap twice. Though that would be an utter lie. His head screamed at him the whole while and his fingers blurred before him when he’d raised them up to grasp at the chilled metal. 

He’d never felt so sick, just standing there, the seconds slowly trickling into minutes, or perhaps even hours. It honestly felt as the day was slowly growing colder the longer that he stood there, staring at a coat of familiar paint, before finally hinges creaked and the door opened, revealing a sight that would’ve surely cured sore eyes, if only it hadn’t gone and broken his heart first.

It wasn’t immediate, the effect the past couple days had had on her. It was more in the way she held herself, the sadness which clung to her every fibre, the way she wouldn’t quite look him in the eye.

She stared, caught in a standstill, and for a long moment did nothing before silently and slowly she withdrew enough to allow him through.

Matty didn’t dare utter a word, let alone breathe. Careful to avoid brushing against her or stepping on her toes as he slowly crossed over the threshold to get in, though the hands he’d hidden in his coat pockets curled into fists to keep himself steady.

The first thing he noted upon first entering was the significant state of the flat, it wasn’t messy or untidy by any means, but looked nothing at all like a house typically inhabited by a child should, or at least a monster as chaotic as he knew Teddy to be. It was almost as though Mouse had been expecting a letting agent to pass through with a couple dozen couples, what with how clean it was. He almost reckoned that if he were to crouch down right there he’d probably be able to make out the seam of his jeans in the reflection of the floors.

“You can just hang your-”

“I know.” Matty whispered, not intentionally meaning to cut her off but unable to help himself anyway. 

It hurt, feeling as though he was just a guest in a place he had practically considered home not too long ago. He coughed lightly and shrugged off his coat to do so anyway, hanging it up where he usually did, something which made him pause for a split second, wondering whether this could possibly be the last time he’d have the privilege of doing so.

“Right.” Mouse murmured somewhere behind him, snapping Matty out of his thoughts. She stepped on by him just after, eyes trained on the end of the hallway until they reached the living room, “Erm, I’m just starting on a brew. You can wait here if you want.”

He wanted to follow after her, to fall down onto his knees and fucking sob there at her feet, but he was scared he’d dirty her floors or more than likely end up looking like a total knob. He would. Fucking felt like one just from thinking it. So he did as instructed, moving towards the sofa, taking note of everything and anything the room had to offer him. 

Matty’s eyes flickered over to the kitchen doorway when he realised she’d stopped there, fiddling with her nails before she caught him looking and dropped her hands. “Just realised I didn’t ask if you wanted anything.”

God, it was so fucking strained.

He took a short breath in and attempted to smile, “Tea sounds good.” Was all that he said, and watched on as her brow wrinkled, head tilting with it.

“Uh, I still have that coffee you like. The one you brought over, if you’d prefer.” She told him and he recognised her confusion for what it was, or maybe it was just her weariness over letting him know that his stuff was still where he’d left it. Or, maybe, just fucking maybe he was reading way too much into everything.

“Tea’s good.” Matty murmured, feeling a little less tense now that he knew that she was sort of sitting in the same boat. “But thanks.”

Her chest rose and fell with her next breath and he watched her nod with difficulty at him, still not meeting his eye. “Right, just be a sec then.”

She disappeared past the door with that, whilst he simply stood and listened to the run of the tap and then the flick of the kettle, feeling stupid for having missed something he hadn’t even realised he’d taken note of before. 

But that was just typical, wasn’t it? To miss something so mundane now that it was no longer expected.

Once he heard the clink of mugs Matty allowed his gaze to roam, trailing over the bundle of neatly folded throws settled on the wicker basket by the sofa, ones he knew that if Teddy was here would still be scattered all over the floor before the tv. 

There were a couple of coasters laid out on the coffee table, though the fruit bowl had since been removed, something he knew Mouse did whenever there were only a few pieces left or none at all. There would probably be grapes or something of the sort in the fridge though.

She had a couple of receipts left out on the shelf below the mirror she’d hung up on the wall when she’d first moved in, and the picture frames beside them were still the same. Only one was missing, and he knew which. 

He noticed that the candles over by the lamp were new though, expensive if he remembered rightly because he was sure that he’d spotted them round someone else’s place recently. He wondered briefly over who could’ve gifted them to her, knowing that she much preferred her usual scents, only ever splurging on the larger Yankee Candle jars they had to offer in the local Debenhams.

He found himself smiling at the thought.

It was then that she shuffled back into the room though, stalling his observations. She carried two mugs in her hand and a small plate loaded with biscuits on her forearm. Immediately Matty moved to help her, taking the plate from her even with knowing that she had it handled.

“I could’ve managed.” She murmured, though not unkindly, and then thanked him quietly once she’d gone and placed the mugs down. 

Matty followed her lead, settling the biscuits near the edge of the coffee table, between the two coasters, before fumbling for a second over where to sit. Squeaks seemed to take to one end of the settee so Matty perched on the other, though closer to the middle crease than the arm.

“You got hobnobs?” Matty finally asked, breaking the silence again, eyes flicking over to the plate he’d just held before shooting back over to find her.

She blushed faintly at his comment, then shrugged. “You like them, don’t you?”

Matty scoffed lightly, a soft smile limning his lips, “Yeah, but you hate them. Once claimed that they were like digestives only after being shat out.”

She wrinkled her nose at that, though Matty was quite sure he could spot the mirth that flickered across her face. “Want them or not?”

Rolling his eyes in fond exasperation and knowing not to push it, he picked one up and settled in a little more comfortably into the sofa cushions.

The silence would’ve been almost unbearable if she hadn’t had the foresight to have turned the tv on low before he’d arrived. So whilst a documentary played on one of the many BBC channels, Matty struggled with himself to find the best thing to say. Though he needn’t have bothered, she was always one step ahead.

“So, I think I should start by saying that I um, I know I held a lot of expectations.” 

Almost simultaneously, Matty frowned.

She just wrung her hands together once before thinking better of it and laying them flat in her lap. Matty merely wished to reach out and take them in his own. “And I get that it must’ve been a struggle for you, to basically go from like one end of a scale and then jump right off the other side. But, I-”

“What are you on about?” Matty interrupted, unable to help himself in truth, so beyond baffled by the sudden speech she’d started. She stopped and blinked over at him, finally looking him in the eye. At last.

“What do you mean?” She retorted with a pinch between her brows, “Listen, I planned this all out, alright? So can I just get out what I want to say?”

Matty stared, then forced out a breath of air. “Squeaks,” She shuttered at the name, closing off slightly, enough so that Matty took quick note and wished he hadn’t said a thing, but yet, he still carried on. Desperate to save any blundered attempt he’d make. “Look, this weren’t on you. None of it was, okay?”

Her eyes trailed back over towards him at that, though her expression was almost unreadable. Matty struggled with that bit the most, he’d always been able to read her for the most part.

“So, this crap about expectations and me struggling with whatever idea you’ve made up in your mind is stupid.” Her eyes narrowed then and he watched her work her jaw, obviously none too happy about his retort. He withheld a heavy sigh, “I’m not- Look, I’m not trying to be difficult I’m just saying that- What I’m trying to say is, that every relationship has goals or expectations, that’s normal. But nothing you ever did forced me do what I did. That shit? It was all on me. It was me being insecure and scared, yeah? So, don’t go trying to excuse it. Because I’ve had people do that for me for far too fucking long now and hearing it come from you...” 

He sort of felt himself slump at that, a little bitter and resentful over the fact that she’d since come to think of it that way. As though his mistakes were all just down to her and her inability to do right by him. He realised though, belatedly, that if anyone else had done exactly that, or even attempted to, in any other scenario he just might have taken up the offer and ran with it. But this was her, this was Squeaks. 

She was quiet for a time, then she picked up her mug, eyes trained on the movement of it before, “What then?” 

“What?” Matty frowned once more, shuffling forward in his seat in an attempt to catch her eye again.

“Why did you do it then? Why’d you lie, why didn’t you tell me about Teddy?”

That knot he’d been feeling for weeks now. The one at the very end of his tongue, all tied and tangled in the back of his throat, suddenly shrivelled up and slackened, leaving a bitter aftertaste and a plethora of guilt behind.

Matty’s gaze wandered over to the window, to where Teddy’s guitar sat in its stand just before a heavy set of grey curtains. He withheld the urge to pick at his nails as he searched for the right words to give her, wanting so honestly to tell her the truth, to give her a play by play of what had happened in detail, as well as every thought that had gone through his mind. 

“It wasn’t what it looked like for a start.”

Mouse scoffed a little at that, and Matty couldn’t be mad at it. If he was sat on the other end of this he’d been doing more than just that, he’d be up in arms, tossing shit about and raving to all who would listen.

Still, his eyes trailed down to where his hands now laid in his lap and he pressed his thumb to his palm. “We were on the highstreet, on the way back here.” He started, voice quiet as his stare tracked the faint lines of his hand, “The guy you saw in the pictures came out of nowhere really. Me and Teds had just been at that ice cream shop a way down, I didn’t even spot him until he was there, in my face.”

Matty wet his lower lip, mouth suddenly going dry. Mouse just waited.

“Teddy was quick to hide behind me, you know? The loudmouth didn’t even really notice him until the last minute. But you have to know, all I wanted was to get him out of there. To avoid staying too long and attracting the wrong sort of attention. Okay? So I’d said I had to get going as soon as he'd spoken, told him I didn’t have time to stay and chat.” 

He took a quick breath with that, eyes still centred on the deepest groove of his palm. “But then he, then he brought up Luke. Said something about the funeral he didn't go to and wanting to celebrate his life.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Squeaks’s hands still from their previous bout of fidgeting. “But I told him I was clean. He didn’t believe me at first, which,” Matty huffed out a self-deprecating laugh, “Well, I can’t blame him for that, what with my track record.”

He heard her inhale then and looked up, it seemed as though she was going to say something but thought better. So Matty bit down on the insides of his cheeks to keep from asking before he exhaled slowly, digging a nail into that groove.

“He got a bit aggy, started calling me a toff and whatnot, because I 'spose I was just a rich boy who bought him a couple grams of coke every now and then.” He clucked his tongue thinking about it, but eventually shrugged. “Then I don’t know, he must’ve looked down or something ‘cause that’s when he,” Matty paused and his gaze shot over to her, then away again, “That’s when he spotted Teddy.”

Mouse wrinkled her mouth, then tried to nod, obviously wanting him to continue. Though she kept her eyes trained on the rim of her mug.

“That’s when he said some shit and I reacted.”

“Said what?”

Matty startled a little at the sound of her question but was hasty in his attempt to answer. “Just, he reckoned that Teddy was mine and that I had to have knocked someone up. So now they were just using me for the money.”

Her eyes slipped closed and her fingers tightened their grip on her cup.

Swallowing thickly, Matty went to continue, “I shoved him and told him to do one- that’s what they caught in those photos. I didn't take anything he offered, I didn't even look back after. Just walked away, thinking of Teddy, trying to get him out of there. The bloke, he kept on shouting, saying some crap about this and that. But I carried on walking.”

Matty was proud of that fact, even with everything that had happened since. Not too long ago, a different version of him would have handled it all too severely. It was a step, a tiny one, sure, but it was progress.

“Then what?” Mouse voiced, prompting him along with just a look.

“Then we walked home.” Matty replied, feeling that familiar cloud of shame dawn over him. “We didn’t really speak, I- I was a bit of a mess, trying to figure out what to do next, what to tell Teddy, to say to make it right again. But Teds, he,” Matty hauled in his next breath, all too fucking close to bawling, that he could admit. “He called for me and I looked down at him. All I could say was sorry, Mouse.”

She nodded tightly, the knuckles she had wrapped around her tea cup had whitened.

“He,” Matty felt the corners of his mouth lift as he remembered the bittersweet memory of Teddy trying to soothe him, “He told me it was alright, that we were okay, but I just kept on saying sorry. He said that the bloke was just a bad man, and I assured him of that. Wanting him to know that we were okay, that the guy was long gone. But then he-”

Matty stopped altogether then, a picture of Teddy's little face coming to the forefront of his mind, and Squeaks immediately took note.

“Then what?”

Her eyes were so full of emotion, but which ones he wasn’t too sure. Still, the sight tightened every muscle in his chest as he forced himself to finish what he’d started. “He said we couldn’t tell you.”

Matty knew he couldn’t have imagined the sharp inhale that sounded from her then, as though she'd just received a blow to the chest. And he so desperately wanted to reach out, to wrap her up and just fucking hold her. But he couldn't. It wasn't his place.

He watched on as she licked at her top lip though, blinking back the wetness that shone in her eyes, “Why?” Her voice cracked on the question but she did not cry.

It was a simple answer. “He didn’t want to hurt you.”

Mouse stood then, placing the cup down with some force before she hastily made her way over to the front window. Matty stayed seated, unsure if he’d be welcome near her.

“It fucking broke me, Squeaks.” He admitted after a moment, his lips now tingled with the sheer amount of effort it took for him to not let his emotions get the better of him. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“You should have told me.” Was her reply, sharp and cutting, enough that it fucking wounded. Because Matty knew that she was right.

“I know.” He answered.

“You should have fucking told me, Matty!” She repeated, turning then to face him. He saw the tremble of her shoulders, the curve of her mouth and how it quaked. He stared, couldn't bring himself to look away.

“I know.”

He swallowed, throat almost aching as much as the hole that made up the majority of his chest. 

"Why didn't you tell me?"

“I don't know.” He murmured, mostly to himself.

[plantinghobbies]

Shameless (read: anxiety-inducing) self-promotion for me and @sycophanticsolipsism

The Same Damn Thing (collab with @sycophanticsolipsism)

Here’s part 5, can’t believe we’ve only got two parts left! Thank you to everyone for your likes and reblogs and kudos and feedback, can’t tell you how much it motivates us and how much we appreciate it. It truly lifts our spirits so thank you thank you. The most thanks to @sycophanticsolipsism for supporting my sorry ass through a writer’s block, this thing would probably still have like 100 words without you! 

If you need to catch up, check out the masterlist.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, angst, probably some typos

Part 5: If I Could Go Back To That Evening We Met…

“I’d kill to go back to that evening we met. Trembling hands as I’d ask for your number again, you saw me different then…when I held your heart in my hand” - Lewis Capaldi

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Nobody on the flight is happy to be leaving the magic of Rome, clutching their Prosecco and pecorino Romano from duty free as if it will evaporate upon takeoff. Nobody except Val, that is. She is buzzing, fidgety, can’t get out of this goddamn country fast enough. She has been in constant motion since the moment she’d woken up this morning. 

Val’s had her share of mornings (less than some of her friends but more than she likes to admit) where she woke up disoriented and hungover, unhappy with where she was and a little foggy on how she got there. But this morning? This one was by far the worst, because she didn’t wake up next to a strange guy wearing one sock drooling on her shoulder. No, instead it was Matty - adorable, inconvenient, sexy Matty. By one night stand standards, it was probably the safest she’d ever been. And yet it was the most reckless, brainless thing she’d ever done.

‘It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine.’ She’d repeated it to herself over and over - during her shower, throughout the most chaotic packing job of her life, and all the way to the airport. But no matter how much Val tried, her treacherous bitch of a brain would not let it go. She rocks up to the gate after boarding has begun, sliding into her seat at the front of the plane (she’d used the few minutes waiting for a taxi at the hotel to switch her seat), keeping her head low and her sunglasses on (she takes back all the times she previously called people wearing sunglasses on planes pretentious twats. She gets it now). She’d held her breath as he boarded, pretending to be asleep when she saw his eyes searching for her.  Her noise cancelling headphones provide little relief from the rattling around in her head. Now that she’s stopped, albeit forcibly, it’s harder to keep the thoughts she’s desperate to avoid at bay. 

She catches up on texts as the plane taxies, until her friend Dina responds to a picture of Barry Keoghan in the group chat with a resounding “fuck me” and Val’s transported back to the moment Matty whispered that in her ear as he slid into her for the first time. Opening her email once they’re airborne, her inbox is flooded with emails from him from the last few days, running commentary on the conference sessions they’d attended separately. Reading his cute ramblings on the boring presenters and arrogant question askers felt like a shiv jabbed through her ribs. Finally, she gives up, slamming the laptop shut and closing her eyes. Maybe if she’s unconscious she won’t think about it. 

If her life were a movie, Val would have stirred to light stubble nuzzling her neck, his hand snaking down her front, his gruff voice whispering filthy nothings in her ear. But life wasn’t a movie. Instead, the blare of the wakeup call had jolted them awake, her elbow colliding with his jaw as they both scrambled to answer it. By the time Matty’d thanked the hotel staff with broken Italian, Val was already in her jeans, searching for her earring while avoiding looking at him completely.

“Val…” His voice is low, shaky, uncertain, like he’s approaching a caged animal. Val’s heard him employ that tone a hundred times before - with clients and colleagues when he wants to win them over, with their uni friends when he was trying to mediate a dispute between them, with Marin when she was pushing herself too hard toward the end. But he’s never used it with Val before, until now. He thinks it’s full of charm and confidence and take-charge-ness. But what it feels like right now is patronizing. It’s the first time Val fucking hates the sound of his voice.

There’s a twinge in her neck she’s not sure the cause of as she whips her head around. “Don’t give me that tone.” 

Matty physically recoils, blinking stupidly back at her. “I don’t know -“ He looks down at the bed before standing, moving to the chair in the room, maybe to put more distance between them, escape the scene of the crime. 

“Yea you do!” 

“Look, I’m confused too but…” But she isn’t. Confused that is. She may not be on board with all her actions over the last several hours, but in this moment, she is in full control of how she feels. 

Angry, that’s how Val feels. Angry at herself for being an idiot cliche who slept with her boss. Beyond annoyed at him for not just leaving her the fuck alone to languish on Richard’s team all those months ago. Furious with whatever early Roman asshole invented wine in the first place, with its inhibition-altering goodness. And don’t even get her started on Marianne, who landed them in this joint-room trope predicament in the first place. Yep, her shit list is growing by the minute. She would have NEVER done this at home. Never. She needs to get back - to her bed, to her routine, to her goddamn sanity. Oh, she is clear on her emotions alright. 

“Oh, I’m not. I know what this was, no need to explain it.” Sheets and pillows are flying now as the search continues for her earring. “Listen, we can’t miss our flight and I need to find my earring. I can’t lose it, it’s—“

“Marin’s, I know.” 

“Of course you do.” She’s looking in the mini fridge now, which she knows is ridiculous, but she just has to keep moving. “Obviously, you’d remember your girlfriend’s ear—“ 

Matty’s chair scrapes against the floor with a harsh sound, drawing Val’s eyes over to his body. Bad idea,  as he sits up abruptly and leans forward. “Listen, I don’t know what you heard about us.” Us. The word hits her like a visceral gut punch, a dull ache radiating out from her chest. It’s one thing to think it and another thing altogether to hear it. Her worn patience snaps, she can’t sit here with the smell of sex still lingering in the air and think of them. She just can’t. “It’s not what you th—“

“Aaah, got it!” Fuck, thank god. Her shirt she can do without but there was no way Val was leaving without that earring. She readies to flee, gathering her bag and looking around for her key card… before it settles on her that she’s in her room. She can’t leave, at least not without looking even more erratic than she feels. Plus, they really need to get a fucking move on to the airport and he’s still shuffling by the bed in just his pants.  

She pauses, back turned to him as she speaks. “Listen” she repeats - it’s what her mum would refer to as a verbal tick, “umm, I’m going to hop in the shower, we’ve really got to go and I’m sure you have to pack and—” she’s moving toward the bathroom now, and the blessed door that will put a much-needed barrier between them so she can wash his scent off, and catch her breath and think. Something she clearly wasn’t doing last night. “And I forgot to pick up one last bag of coffee for my neighbor so I’m gonna run to that place down the square. I’ll just meet you at the gate.” The last part is thrown over her shoulder as she slams the door shut, not broaching any argument. She presses her back to the door, holding her breath, hanging on to her resolve by a thread. After eighteen seconds (her youth swim training finally came in handy), she hears the rustling of his clothes, the click of the lock, and then nothing. The sound that she makes as she finally takes a deep breath sounds like relief, and yet it doesn’t feel like it.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When they land, Val is off the plane like a shot, power walking through border control, not looking back. She implores every God she’s ever heard of - she even throws Dumbledore in there for good measure - that her suitcase is already waiting for her at baggage claim, assisting her quick getaway from the walking reminder in a wrinkled black suit and raybans somewhere behind her. But she must have exhausted all her luck between rounds two and three last night because the conveyer belt hasn’t even started moving yet (fucking Heathrow). He catches up to her a few minutes later, which is unfortunate because she was hoping to not see him until sometime next month. Maybe year. Decade. Never? She knows she’s being childish but at least now her mood matches her actions. Her boss! Her sister’s something. Her friend.    

The look he levels her with is heavy with impatience. Oh, he’s waiting for her to say something? Fat chance, talking to him is what got her into this mess in the first place. Val talked herself right out of her senses and into his bed. Her bed. A bed. Speaking of, she wants to get to hers so she can crawl into it and die. “Where the hell are these bags?!” Mumbling to herself as a hideous green paisley suitcase makes a full go around the luggage turn style again before Matty seems to get fed up with their verbal game of chicken, taking a deep breath and letting a long sigh preview his words. “Well I guess I’ll sta-“

“Matty?” A high-pitched voice calls from somewhere behind them. Saved! Maybe there’s some magic left for her after all.

He whirls around to the voice, which is attached to a striking woman who Val does not recognize. Probably an enterprising networker from the conference. Now’s her chance to back away, book it to the other end of the carousel. Hell, maybe she should just abandon the bag, she can always come back and get it later. Having decided on letting present Val off the hook and leaving future Val to deal with the postponed chat with Matt, she turns to leave - when the woman steps into (invades is more like it from where Val’s standing) Matty’s personal space, confidentially, almost intimately. Val is glued to the spot, curiosity getting the best of her.

“Cheryl…hi, what are you - it’s nice to - aah” He awkwardly goes to hug the woman but they get tangled as they lean in, barely manage a weird half hug, half cheek kiss. Awkward is not a trait she’s used to seeing on him, and it really doesn’t suit. 

Val doesn’t know if it’s years of computational science training or the hours of true crime documentaries she’s devoured but something has her mind whirring, interest piqued, collecting data on this new person. Tall, brunette, well dressed, older (she can’t be more than Matty’s age but Val is feeling petty all of a sudden). 

“So that’s why you’ve been so hard to reach lately. Long trip?” Cheryl’s eyes dart towards her and then back to Matty, clearly content to not make Val’s acquaintance. She’s toe to toe with Matty now, which Val knows from no more legitimate source than Cosmo is a sign that they’re clearly comfortable in each other’s personal space. Physical space. Val doesn’t like where this is going but can’t seem to look away. 

“Ehm no, just Rome. Conference.” He clears his throat into his fist and begins rocking on his heels in a way she’s never seen him do before. Who the fuck is this woman? “You?”

“Showcase in Sweden,” Cheryl says as if this explains everything. It doesn’t, not nearly enough. Be more specific Cheryl, you’re not giving me a lot to work with here! “But I’m home for a few weeks. We should…ummm…get together again, last time was… fun.” She punctuates the last part, dragging a manicured nail down Matty’s chest. Val knows later (once she’s home and showered and slept and sane again) she’ll admire Cheryl’s boldness, wish they were friends so she could ask her how she seems to manage more confidence in that one finger than Val seems to have in her whole body. 

For his part, Matty does finally step back - or maybe he just loses his equilibrium in the presence of Miss Congeniality (she can’t help it) - and collides with Val, startling as if noticing her for the first time. And in this moment, the data set is complete - she doesn’t need to gather any more information to come to her conclusion - they’ve fucked. Recent enough that Cheryl doesn’t hesitate in initiating contact. Intimate contact that had him seemingly forgetting all about Val. The woman he slept with last night! 

Keep moving. 

Before he can move to introduce her or address her or do anything with her, she spots her bag, lunges for it, and leaves without another word. 

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Keep moving. 

There’s a Diet Coke stain on Val’s sweater, a general stale smell in the air that she’s pretty sure is coming from her, and she’s stiff and sore in areas she hasn’t been in a while. But she can’t go home. Because home has the couch where they sat till her head ached and back screamed, pulling and fixing data and railing against their colleagues for fucking up. It’s got the blanket she’d caught him wiping his eyes on as they watched Manchester By the Sea together. And the fucking grease stain on the edge of her carpet that he didn’t think she knew about from the pizza he’d dropped on it. (She might have to burn that rug, or sell it.) And the old journal tucked away in her closet filled with her thoughts of him that show just how stupid she’d been for him and for how long. 

So no, Val doesn’t go home. When the cab driver asks where to, she rattles off the first place that comes to mind, dragging her suitcase behind her out of the backseat and into the cinema. The obviously-stoned teenager behind the counter doesn’t bat an eye when she asks him for one ticket to the “least fucking romantic thing you’ve got going here,” punching a few buttons before spitting out a stub and receipt for the latest installment in the Saw franchise. But not even gore and guts can keep her mind from drifting. The torture on screen ramps up - Val wants to picture Matty groaning in agony as she tortures him for all the shit he’s put her through today but all her mind can seem to conjure are his moans of pleasure. 

She’s pictured him between her thighs so many times that she’s probably imagined every move he’s making tonight, from the moment he started trailing his lips down past her breasts. The way his mouth licks at each of her ribs as he slinks down her body seems familiar. And Val knows that she’s pictured him licking his bottom lip the way he does now as he slides her panties to the side with his finger. But all of these fantasies, she realizes now, have been devoid of the single hottest thing she could never imagine. His sounds. Because the gutteral groan that escapes him as he licks into her for the first time is like nothing she’s ever heard before. It must have surprised him too because he pauses after that first taste, resting his forehead against her pelvis, heavy pants tickling her skin. Val’s hands instinctively find his hair, raking through it, fingertips massaging the top of his head. She’s a little uncertain why he paused but she can’t help but stop and appreciate the intimacy of this moment, something new for them even after all their years of knowing each other. 

“Christ,” he mutters, rolling his head slightly back and forth as he plants lazy kisses wherever his mouth lands, seemingly unhurried. But not knowing what he’s thinking begins to make her anxious. Was there something wrong? She’d waxed recently (not that it mattered and fuck him if he thought it did)…right? Yes, yes definitely. Maybe it wasn’t his thing, had she pushed him to do it? Oh god, was she the problem?

Her hand slid from his hair to his jaw, trying to coax him back up her body. She gasps at the quick snatch of her wrist, firm but gentle, his large hand encircling her wrist easily. He slides her other one alongside it, pinning both of her wrists in place easily on her left side. 

“I just….you don’t have to….listen, just come up and we’ll…”

“Val?”

“Yea?”

“You are the fucking best thing I’ve ever tasted. Now stop thinking and let me enjoy it.”

She walks out halfway through the movie, her fickle mind unable to give into the distraction for long. There’s a cafe right next to the theater and Val ignores the annoyed glances she gets for hogging a table meant for two. But she needs room for her baggage. ‘Fitting’, she thinks. 

She’s on her second latte and third episode of Derry Girls when her mum calls. Normally, she’d put her off until she’s in a better mood to chat, has more energy to pretend. One of the hazards of having a psychoanalyst for a mother is that every interaction can feel like a session, unable to avoid her trained instincts. But she’d already dodged her calls twice and Val is certain that even though her mother knows she was traveling with Matty (her mother was so relieved when Val said Matty was going, you’d have thought he was a 6’5 bodyguard instead of a 5’10 casual exerciser), if she doesn’t pick up a third time Gwen will start to panic. After what her mother’s been through, she tries not to blame her. 

When Gwen asks how the trip went, Val picks her words carefully, trying to muster believable excitement behind it. “Good!”

“Really? It doesn’t sound good?” Clearly, her acting needs work. 

“No, it was.” She tries again, hoping the raised octaves in her voice would make up for the lack of it in her mood. 

“You and Matty were in Rome for a week and it was only good? I find that hard to believe.”

And she doesn’t know if it’s the sudden softness in her mothers’ usually firm voice or her own jet lag but Val feels the dam crack and break easier than it has in years. And it’s not a dainty crack either, where a tear slides down her cheek accompanied by one of those cute hiccups. No, Val is not a cute crier, never has been. It’s full on sobs, her splotchy face screwed up and her attempts to breath turning into snot-logged guffaws. She’s word vomiting her train-wrecked thoughts to her mother, trying to hide her teary face behind her crumpled napkin. The guy at the table next to her - some young college kid who probably hasn’t lived long enough to make the idiotic mistake of wanting someone you can’t have - tries to appear casual as he side-eyes her, giving her increasingly dirty looks before he slides his laptop and book off the table and jogs out of the place. ‘Yea kid, run so you don’t have to see what your life will look like in ten years,’ she thinks, reaching for the unused napkin on his table and blowing her nose loudly. 

Val spares her the more salacious details but knows Gwen gets the gist. Silence follows, for so long that Val pulls her phone out of her bag to check the connection is still good. 

“He calls me every year, you know.” Her mother’s voice is soft, vulnerable.

Of all the things she expected her mother to say, this was not it. “Who? Matty?!”

“Yesss darling, Matty. Every year around the anniversary.” Val rolls her eyes, of course he would. He couldn’t just make it easy for her and be a dickhead she shouldn’t have feelings for. Her mother’s voice is still flooding her earbuds “…started out with a card the first year but then he missed the second one and called all flustered from some party boat…in Ibiza, I think.” Gwen’s laugh is another thing that Val doesn’t hear that much of, wishes she heard it more. “Said he was rubbish with anything analogue and asked if I wouldn’t mind if he called from then on.”

Val grips her napkin, busying herself with shredding it into pieces. “He always asks about you. Bless him, probably thought he was being so coy, but it was obvious that he was digging for info on you.”

“Me?” The shrillness in her voice attracts a glare from the guy who’s taken over the recently-vacated table. She glares right back. She can be hysterical if she wants to here, it isn’t a bloody library. 

“Don’t sound so surprised. Of course, you. Who else?” There’s rustling on the other end, the unmistakable whimper of her parent’s golden retriever as he scratches at the back door, desperate to go out. Val is suddenly homesick in a way she hadn’t been in over a decade. “I thought you all had something going at school before…”

“No, mum.” Val interrupts before that thought can even fully form, can’t take hearing someone else verbalize it. “It was him and Marin…”

The sharp bark of laughter cuts her off. “Marin? No darling, definitely not.”

The confidence with which her mother says this should make Val feel better, someone outside of her own thoughts refuting her worst nightmare. But instead, her hackles rise, instantly petulant at being so easily dismissed. Her next words are biting.

“Well, I was there so I think I would know.”

“You certainly know a lot.” Great, her mother’s passive voice. It’s a reliable tool for de-escalation, but all it seems to do for Val is piss her off more.

“Well, how would you know? You weren’t here!“ She hates how easily she reverts to sounding like a child with her mum. 

“Because she told me things.” The unlike you goes unsaid.

“I-“

“Honey, you’ve always kept things close to the vest. Ever since you were little.” Her mother anticipates her defensiveness “It’s ok, it’s just your nature. But it wasn’t the same for your sister. She told me eeeeeverything. Including the fact that she was asexual.” 

Val’s cheeks flame in the way they always did whenever either of her parents even said the word sex. “Wait, what?”

“Yes darling.” She says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“No, I-“

“Honestly Val, it’s perfectly normal, some people just aren’t driven by carnal ins-“ At that word, Val is transported back to the mortifying moment she’d asked her mother the definition of carnal at the ripe old age of 7, having come across it while trying to read one of her Nan’s trashy paperbacks with Fabio on the cover. Her dad had been livid but her mum had simply sat  Val down and explained the birds and the bees. Val had never asked for a clarification on another word since. 

She’d very much like to not relive that whole ordeal now, or ever again. “Mum, I know what asexual means. I just, well…” Val pauses, biting her lip in contemplation unsure of what it is that confuses her about the finding. Her sister was allowed to keep things for herself. Val had obviously never told Marin about her feelings for Matty. Thou can covet thy sister’s boyfriend as long as you don’t tell anyone…that’s how the commandment went, right?  But this, this was news that would have changed Val’s whole world that first year of uni. Maybe her whole life. And she’d kept it from her! Just because Val didn’t have a right to be angry doesn’t mean she wasn’t anyway .“I guess I don’t know why she didn’t tell me.” 

“Oh bug, I think she would have. If she had had the time.” Gwen’s voice goes soft again in the way she only gets when talking about Marin. Or her own parents. Val hates making her mum sad. 

“Well, good to know, I guess. Still doesn’t mean he didn’t fancy her.” The sigh on the other end of the line 

“Honey, this isn’t really about your sister, is it? It’s about you. I mean, it’s fine to be guarded.” ‘Well, thanks for your permission mum.’ “But if you like someone, sometimes you, well, you’ve got to go out on a limb. Do something that you can’t walk back.”

“Uh uh Val, eyes on me baby,” Matty’s thumb taps at her hairline, bringing her eyes back to his. “There she is, that’s my girl.” His smile is so soft, so incongruous with the harsh snap of his hips moments before. He dips his head, nose nuzzling hers as his lips skim over her Cupid’s bow. “I want to see you.”

Well, she’d definitely done that. 

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The elevator dings as it arrives at her floor, Val’s mind barely registering it as she stares at the hideous bargain carpet that covers every inch of her building. Two days ago, her Mum’s revelations would have had her spinning. But today, they just make her more tired. Tired of trying to decipher what it all meant - every word, every action. Tired of carrying around hope for all these years, foolish, unfounded hope. Hope could be heavy and she’d been carrying it since an early age, when Hollywood had filled her brain with stories of men who gave the smallest crumbs of affection and the women who devoured them like they were full feasts, never giving up and somehow always getting the guy. Beauty and the Beast, My Best Friends Wedding, Jerry Maguire, Bridget Jones’, Sleepless in Seattle. And those were just a few of her favorites growing up. But what those movies didn’t show was the nights filled with insomnia, the self-doubt, the second guessing yourself, the exhaustion that comes with taking every interaction with someone you would die to have - literally every single second together - and reliving it over and over again looking for the seIcret subtexts that would reveal how he felt about you. Wondering, confused, if it was love or if you weren’t just mistaking kindness for care. 

Well, Val was officially giving up. Throwing in the towel. She couldn’t do it any more. She was no Hollywood heroine, she was just a mere woman, and she was tired. Of burying her feelings under shy smiles, then friendship, then a night with him that had only made the idea of friendship impossible. Of wondering if she was wasting time pining for someone when she didn’t even know how he felt. I mean, clearly he was attracted to her but just because he wanted her didn’t mean he wanted to be with her; just because he wasn’t in love with Marin didn’t mean that he was in love with Val. Contrary to how she sometimes acted, she knew she was not the only person of interest on the planet and he could have anyone he wanted. 

And that was all just the personal anxiety. She hadn’t even begun to process how stupid this all was for her professionally. 

As she makes the turn down her hallway, her eyes are drawn to a body, slumped in front of the door to her apartment. Asleep? Dead? Several particularly grim facts about stalkers and serial killers flash through her mind before she clocks the curls, the scuffed shoes, the pack of cigarettes lying next to him he’d clearly taken out to smoke before he must have realized where he was. On instinct, hope rises in her chest before she slaps her palm over her heart, holding it at bay. No, that was enough of that. 

She kicks at his shoe, startling him for the second time that day. “How long have you been here?” 

He doesn’t respond as he clambers to his feet, eyes dragging to his suitcase as if to highlight the obvious answer.

“Ok, other question. What are you doing here?” It comes out breathier than intended but she is genuinely surprised. Thought he’d be off somewhere with that troll Cheryl (she is not proud of how her feminism utterly abandons her in this moment). That she’d at least have a few well-timed sick days to prepare before seeing him again. 

“I’m uh…” The toe of his brogues scrape at the floor .Whatever he wants to say, it’s enough to make him anxious. Which is enough to make Val want to avoid it at all costs.

Summoning her self-preservation, she cuts him off. “Listen, maybe we should do this when we’ve both-“

“Goddamnit Val, for once, please shut up!” His voice explodes in the small space, her gaze immediately going over her shoulder to her neighbor’s door. The last thing she needs right now is a noise complaint. Matty itches at the skin around his throat, as if raising his voice at her is as foreign to do as it was to receive. “I’m sorry, I’m sor- I just, I can’t risk any confusion here. Just need to get this out. Need you to listen. For once.” The attempt at a joke lands with a thud. 

“When I’ve tried to get this out…and, I, just, it gets fucked every time.” His breath is noticeably shaky, hands on his hips as he gazes at the floor. “And I’m sick of, well I’m not sick of trying cause I’ll do that, not afraid…but I’m sick of the…if only I’d been clearer, got it out faster….in that pub, and I just, can’t take it any more…” 

She’s about to tell him she’s not following when he seems to gather that for himself, head lifting to meet her eyes. She’s never been great at eye contact, always hates how put on the spot she feels by it. On instinct, Val glances away, over his shoulder, somewhere safer. A blurred hand lifts in her periphery, hovering near her face but not touching it, until her gaze turns back to his. Reminding her of the eye contact he’d insisted on the night before, as he went down on her, as he slid into her, as she came on his cock and as she’d fallen asleep. 

“Val, I’m crazy about you. Have been for years… and before you say it, Marin and I weren’t anything. Or nothing like you think… I loved her, sure. But not in the way I do you…”

Val’s heard the phrase about the world going sideways before but she’d never really appreciated what it meant until now. She swears her body actually tilts sideways until it feels like the handle of her suitcase is the only thing keeping her upright. And with her equilibrium goes her ability to think straight.

“From the moment I met you when you had just got accepted, there was just something… and then you were dating that prick Roger from the cricket team.” God, Val hadn’t thought of him in ages. She’d been using him, trying to get under him to get over Matty. “…kicking myself that I’d just assumed there’d be time, like you wouldn’t just get snatched up by someone—“

The sleep deprivation seems to pick that very moment to redouble its efforts - she can’t think fast enough to respond. To buy herself time, she vomits out the first thought in her head. “Why didn’t you say something? Back then?”

“What? Rock up to you on the first day ‘Hey Val, d’you remember me? From that one weekend we hung out? Will you please go out with me? Oh, let me help you unpack, show you how shitty the beds are...’” He scoffs, she fucking hates that. “C’mon, I’d like to think I’m better than that…” 

Her eyes look away, not willing to admit he’s right.

“I don’t know if you remember that night…in the pub—“ He stops, the effort of self-editing written all over his face. “What the fuck am I—Of course, I know you remember, like, the shittiest night of your life but I meant right before, when you and I were— “

She’s not intentionally tuning him out but her brain is now unhinged, skipping around and ahead, trying to determine what conclusion he’s coming to. Because the truth is, even if he’s telling the truth (she knows he has no reason to lie about this but she still can’t comprehend this monumental fact that he’s liked her for, it sounds like, almost as long as she’s liked him...) she still can’t have him. Because as the personal anxiety begins to ebb in the face of his declaration, the professional anxiety seeps in to take its place. She knows how this would go. She trusts Matty, of course she does (even after all these years, she couldn’t imagine doing anything else). But in her experience, shit like this - a relationship with a coworker - doesn’t stay quiet, no matter how hard two people try. Someone catches her glance at him differently, he says her name a certain way and suddenly it’s all anyone can talk about. The rumor mill must be fed, anything to make the mundane office more interesting, the hours less boring. It’s not that she blames them, has even joined in in her weaker moments, feeling slightly gross as she listened to the latest gossip, just wanting to be part of the inner circle, to be included. But she’s seen what it does to women, it’s always the women that pay. 

“So, you can choose not to give this a shot, but it won’t be because of some bullshit misunderstanding you have about me and Marin.” There’s that tone again, like he’s confident in the case he made, assured of its persuasiveness. But once again, he’s underestimated her. 

“Marin isn’t the reason.” It’s clear that’s not what he was expecting her to say, he’s caught off guard, eyes flitting back and forth between hers as if trying to scan them. “Well, not entirely. Matty, you’re my boss…”

“I’m well aware, trust me. We can handle it. Or I can.” Her eyeroll is instinctual at this point, honed from years of listening to men brush away her valid concerns as if they were so obviously not an issue that it’s idiotic that she’d even been thinking about it. “It doesn’t matter, as long as we’re tog—“

“No, it does… matter, that is… Cause this won’t be a problem for you, but for me it will be. A big one. My reputation, my career. People will think I slept my way into every job opportunity from here on out…” Val crosses her arms in front of her chest to stop wringing of her hands. 

Matty is shifting his weight from side to side, clearly uncomfortable with the way the conversation has veered off course. “No, they won’t… and if they do, I’d immediately address it. We’d report them! I’m not really a nobody here, y’know.”

“Oh great, I can hear people now. ‘There goes Matty, taking Val ‘under his wing’” the air quotes aren’t really needed with the sarcasm laced in her voice but it’s important to her he knows how much that idea offends her. “I fucking hate that phrase.”

The smell of his cologne tingles as he takes a step closer, that confidence back in his voice. “Listen, I’m not stupid enough to think that it’d be totally fair, or that there isn’t stuff we have to work out—" (he says stuff as though the problem was (is) a small glitch in the code and not a huge attack on her entire system, her career) “—but I am falling in love with you… I want to do that with you. Want to do everything with you,” he chuckles softly, peering into her eyes, “And I think you do too, or at least I would hope so.”

Her resolve is crumbling, she needs him to go away, leave her so she can fall apart in peace. “No.”

“No?” Matty rakes his hands through his hair, interlocking his hands behind his head, his biceps flexing in a way that Val can’t help but find hot. 

“Matty, I…I am just…I can’t…I’ve worked too hard for everything I’m accomplishing now for it to be credited to you. It would kill me to have people think that.” She hates thinking out loud but her trusty brain-to-mouth filter is failing her right now. Thankfully, he fills in the gaps for her. “It’s not worth the risk—“ The words are said carelessly but she can’t stuff them back in. 

“No, I think what you mean is I’m not worth the risk” He says, and on his face she can read all the hurt her simple denial has inflicted. She wishes he would understand, that he would just listen and see it from her perspective because when she puts it all down on paper…well— the cons outweigh the pros, and her lists have rarely ever failed her. What if they don’t work out? What if after all this time pining for each other, they go on a couple of dates and realize they’ve made a mistake? It’s not like they can walk this back. Data isn’t subjective, it’s objective, it’s rational, reliable. Everything that they are not right now. She’s about to summarize it for him, a task which would be made easier if she had time to write it out, organize it. 

Her thoughts feel scattered. “I’m not saying—” but it doesn’t matter that she’s not organized because she doesn’t get far. 

“Got it,” he cuts her off, voice suddenly gruff and cold. “I’m an idiot. Thought last night meant you were still mooning over me the way you used to—jokes on me, I guess.” It’s been a while since she’s seen him like this, wounded animal cruelly lashing out at a perceived attack. This Matty is an unpleasant addition. 

“Oh, fuck off, sounds like you were pining right back. Not that you kept your bed cold waiting though, did you? Fucking Cheryl and…”

“Cheryl?! God you’re unbelievable” His bag slaps against his thigh as he hauls it over his shoulder violently. “Cheryl is nothing. She was a one night stand—“

“—so was I!” They are screaming now and Val is almost surprised that the landlord hasn’t already been called. 

Val doesn’t have time to see his reaction before he moves past her to the elevator. “Your words, not mine” He bypasses the elevator altogether, slamming the door to the stairwell open and disappearing into it. 

When she’s finally in her apartment, suitcase sprawled open in her living room and temporary bed made on her couch, she lets it wash over her. All the emotions she has kept in a vice like grip since the second her feet hit the floor this morning, or rather till her feet landed in the heap of denim where Matty’s jeans had landed the night before. Val wants to be proud of herself for cutting it off, not feeding the beast (figuratively or literally) but what she really feels is regret.

[plantinghobbies]

birthday sleepover (office nerd!matty x reader smut)

final day of matty35!! happy birthday to my favourite boy. have a fic about watching star wars and shagging afterwards to celebrate!! enjoy <3

“why did we need to rewatch the ending of return of the jedi on dvd? i thought i was doing a good thing cueing them all up on demand for you coming over.”

“no, you were, darling, i appreciate it so much, but i really need to show you this bonus feature,” matty kisses your head, before abandoning you completely to stand next to the tv and gesture to the force ghosts appearing to luke skywalker onscreen. “look - different anakin.”

you squint. “what? how?”

“they retconned the digital edition for continuity - added the guy from the prequels to the dvd box set release in 2004,” your boyfriend explains, eyes lighting up in that adorable way they do when he’s passionate about something; naturally, it’s how he looks at you, most of the time. “that’s the original guy, there. same guy who played unmasked vader in the him and luke reconciliation scene, you know. isn’t that weird?”

“yeah.” you’re not lying.

matty moves back to sit next to you on the bed, tugging you onto his lap and gently holding your face. he kisses you, soft and slow and long, and you can feel his affection for you in it. “thank you for marathoning the original trilogy with me, darling. best birthday i’ve had in a long time.”

you pout. “not best ever?”

“that would be the tour of st. james park when i was ten,” he grins. “but this is a close second.”

“i’ll take it,” you kiss his nose. “wait… so if i was to take you on a tour of st. james park…”

“stop it right now, i might cum.”

“oh, for god’s sake,” you facepalm, trying your best not to grin while matty cracks up beside you. “let’s 86 that idea, then.”

“yeah. and we can do that number take away 17 together instead.”

“what… oh,” you smirk at your giggling boyfriend. “then you really will cum.”

“so will you,” matty leans in to kiss your neck. “you know how much i love it when you sit on my face.”

“fuck,” you can't help moaning at the thought of his tongue slicing through you, flicking against your clit with reckless abandon as you writhe on that pretty face of his; the way it's currently soothing the bite he just left on your neck isn't helping, either. “is it bedtime yet?”

matty presses kisses up across your neck to your lips - when they meet yours, you slip your tongue into his mouth, and the whine he lets out completely liquifies your insides and sends them straight into your underwear. “yeah… wait, babe,” he pants against your lips. “we haven’t let maggie outside tonight yet.”

“oh, right,” you look around the room, slightly groggy, for the puppy you were convinced was asleep on her bed by the radiator. “she’s not in here?”

“think she left halfway through the empire strikes back. reckon she was bored,” he looks at you pointedly, smile threatening to break out. “takes after her mother in that regard.”

“i wasn’t bored!”

your boyfriend kisses your nose. “sweetheart, i saw your eyes glazing over like five separate times,” he kisses all over your face, dragging a giggle from your lips with each press of his own. “but you stayed awake through all of them, and you didn’t complain, and i think you deserve head as a thank you.”

“you know, baby, you don’t actually need an excuse to eat me out.”

“yeah, i do,” matty blushes, hiding his face in your neck. “because i’d just have my head between your legs all the time if i didn’t.”

you laugh, holding the back of his head and cuddling him. “well, the sooner you take the dog out, the sooner you can come back and do that to me.”

the speed with which matty practically shoves you off his lap and runs out of the bedroom is comical. he laughs when you smack his ass, turning back to blow you a kiss before running towards the living room, shouting for maggie. you roll out of bed, darting over to softly close the door behind him then making a beeline for your wardrobe.

excitement - and slight nerves, you must admit - building in your stomach, you reach behind a stack of band tees on the wardrobe shelf, standing on tiptoe to grab the paper bag you stashed there a week ago. moving quickly, acutely aware that you have limited time before matty returns, you pull the lingerie from the bag, barely even looking at it before you’re yanking your (well, matty’s) t-shirt off and replacing it with the fancy bra. only once you’re fully dressed in the new underwear do you admire it, moving to stand in front of the full-length mirror and examining yourself. adjusting the chains holding your tits up, and smoothing any creases from the long skirt, you turn, looking at your outfit from different angles, giggling deliriously.

you look hot. extremely hot. matty’s going to fucking lose it.

and he’s going to be back any second - you can hear him padding along the hallway, humming the imperial march to himself. chucking your discarded clothes onto the chair at your vanity, you all but launch yourself back onto the bed, and settle into the first sexy-ish pose that comes to mind: lying on your side, facing the door, elbow propping up your head and top leg slightly bent.

a brief wave of panic washes over you when the realisation of what you’re doing sinks in, but you don’t have time to psych yourself out of it before matty’s knocking softly on the door. “darling?” he sounds concerned. “you alright? can i come in?”

you take a deep breath. now or never, you suppose. “yeah. come in, angel.”

“got worried when i saw the door was- oh my god,” matty’s breath catches when he opens the door and sets eyes on you for the first time. he stands there quite gormlessly for about a minute, mouth agape and pretty eyes blinking constantly, as if to make sure you’re actually lying on the bed in princess leia cosplay and he isn’t dreaming. his eyeline shifts quite constantly, too, flitting from your smiling (smirking) face to your legs to your chest and back again. yours shifts down over his bare chest to his boxers, already beginning to tent, much to your delight.

mission accomplished.

twirling your hair around your index finger, you smile at your boyfriend. “happy birthday, baby,” biting your lip, you beckon him over with the same finger; he stumbles forwards, entranced, sinking to his knees at the side of the bed. you run your thumb over his lips, and matty whines quietly, eliciting a satisfied hum of your own. “do you like my new outfit?” 

he nods so frantically you fear for his neck. still, you want to hear him. “words, sweet boy. want you to tell me what you think about it.”

“okay,” matty croaks out, eyes glued to your tits. “you- you look fucking incredible. um, just, like, so sexy. m’so fucking turned on. never been so hard in my fucking life. seriously.”

he isn’t kidding; you glance down at his clothed dick, visibly straining against the fabric, and you can feel your ego inflating to match. “yeah?” you slide your hand into his hair. “what do you want to do about it?”

“wanna fuck you,” he whimpers, looking doe-eyed at you. “but i wanna eat you out first. can i? please, darling?”

he’s so fucking eager. you’re obsessed with him.

nodding, you move so you’re sitting on the edge of the bed in front of matty, flicking the front of the skirt out of the way; his pupils dilate even more when he sees you’re bare underneath, and you giggle. “go on then, gorgeous.”

matty’s barely gasped out a “thank you” before you’re being tugged towards his face and it’s buried between your thighs. really, there’s no other word for it - if you could think anything coherent amidst the pleasure searing through you with every movement of your boyfriend’s tongue, you’d genuinely worry about whether he can breathe or not, so close is he to your core. but how can you be expected to think when you feel so fucking good?

of course, matty being matty, he’s slightly graceless with his tongue in his overexcitement, but that’s easily remedied - you root your fingers between those curls you love so much, using them as leverage to grind yourself against him and, in the process, guide him to do what you need him to. he groans what you assume, knowing him, is a “thank you” into your cunt, and the vibrations of his voice add an extra layer to the stimulation already turning you into a wanton, whining mess of a woman. “fuck, matty, such a good boy for me,” you pant, stomach contracting with every lick. humming happily, he takes your clit into his mouth, sucking on the bud and making you wail.  “yes, yes, just like that… fuck, you’re so good, so fucking good to me. keep going, angel, make me feel good.”

just like you knew it would, the praise spurs your boyfriend on, more than you would’ve thought humanly possible had you not spent copious amounts of time with his mouth on you just like this. after he’s had his fill of making out with your clit - for now, at least - matty turns his attention to your hole itself, licking into it like melting ice cream, driving the muscle into you to the hilt, over and over and over. that in itself is enough to make your legs convulse, but then he adds his thumb to your clit; some form of half-scream half-sob thing drags itself up your throat and past your lips as matty draws every pattern he knows you love onto the bundle of nerves, and your thighs involuntarily clench around his head, keeping him flush against you.

as if he would ever leave you hanging.

some part of your pleasure-numb brain urges you to apologise, tells you that crushing his head like that is surely painful, but it’s quickly disproven by your boyfriend whimpering into your core, pretty little masochist that he is. he looks up at you, beautiful eyes rolling back further into his head with every moan you make, responding with whines and groans of his own. there are a lot of things to like and love about matty, and his focused desire to always make you feel good is one of them - he gets off on this, making you feel nothing less than euphoric, and there’s no way in hell he’s stopping doing what he’s doing until you cum.

and when he rapidly flicks his tongue on your clit, side to side, curls flying everywhere from the force with which he’s shaking his head, you do. the building ball of pleasure in your stomach shatters, careening into your veins and nerves and brain and voicebox, and it’s all you can do to hold him against your cunt until the aftershocks subside.

matty giggles breathily, tenderly rubbing your thighs as you flop back onto the bed and catch your breath. when you’ve stopped shaking quite so much, you sit up on your elbows to look at him. “now where on earth did you learn that last move?”

he shrugs, cheeks rosy from use and damp with you. sweet as caramel and completely earnest, he replies. “just wondered if it would work.”

“jesus christ,” you giggle, shaking your head. “you're perfect, you know that? now,” you beckon him again. “get up here, birthday boy.”

matty doesn't waste any time; he's lying beside you before you've even finished talking, giddy smile intact. you make the same face in return, climbing onto his lap and pressing your lips to his, while his hands find home on your waist. the taste of yourself on him is exhilarating - you moan into matty when it hits you, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth and fluster you even further.

it's such a good kiss that it physically pains you to pull away. but the sight of matty, all messy hair and big adoring eyes, makes up for it. smiling, you stroke his cheek with your thumb. “so, birthday boy, what do you want to do next?”

“hmm,” matty's brow furrows adorably, hands tracing the bare skin of your torso as he thinks. after a moment, he looks up at you shyly. “i’d like you to ride me, please.”

before you can open your mouth to agree, he bursts into speech again. “but only if you want to! we can do something else if you’re not in the mood for that. god, i’d take anything at all. but, also, nothing. i don’t mind,” he takes a breath, smiling lovingly at you and stroking your hair. “to be honest, i’d settle just for looking at you, darling. my beautiful girl”. 

your cheeks burn, your heart flutters, and all you can do is kiss your boyfriend again. it's sweeter than the last kiss, but it quickly deepens into something desperate - you lift your hips and tug gently at matty's boxers, and he lifts his own hips to let you slide them off. you giggle against his lips as he holds you at a funny angle so he can kick the underwear off, pulling back slightly to talk. “can i fuck you now, sweetheart?”

matty smiles. “you can do anything you want.”

“alright,” you grin at the way he whimpers when you take hold of his dick, eyes fluttering closed when you pump it; you softly touch his face as if to stir him. “eyes open, sweetheart. want you to watch me.”

“okay. sorry,” he obliges, eyes opening and widening as you sink down onto him slowly, hands braced on his hard chest. “jesus christ.”

“yeah,” you breathe, jaw dropping as you take him fully. after a second, you begin to grind your hips, riding him slowly to adjust to how big he is. “always feel so fucking good inside me, baby. how is it for you?”

“perfect,” he's fucked already, eyes heavy and jaw slackening, a sheen of sweat covering his chest tattoo. you speed up your movements, and matty groans, gaze fixated on your tits. “can i touch you, please?”

“of course, angel.”

“thank you.” just as you predicted, your boyfriend's hands immediately go to your chest, palming and squeezing as best he can through the bra. feeling generous - it is his birthday, after all - you reach backwards and undo the garment, chucking it somewhere in your bedroom. matty smiles deliriously, and when he lightly pinches your nipples, you can't help the way your hips speed up or the moan that escapes your lips.

clearly, he isn't the only masochist in the room.

your thighs are beginning to burn from the effort, but you ignore it. matty's enjoying this, the way you're fucking him, as evidenced by the whines of your name and groans and whimpers that fall from his lips, punctuated by the gorgeous sound of your skin slapping against his. and you're enjoying it, too - he hits a delicious spot inside you every time your bodies meet, and given your previous orgasm you don't think it'll take long for you to get off again. 

he also seems to be getting close, hips sporadically jerking up into you. it feels good, actually, so good that you decide it might be time to relinquish control for a bit. you smile sweetly. “do you want to do the work for a bit, angel, wanna fuck me?”

“can i?”

fuck, you have the most adorable boyfriend in history. you nod. “i'd really like that.”

“alright,” matty shuffles beneath you, sitting up more against the pillows and moving your arms to rest on his shoulders. he kisses you, so deeply and passionately that your head spins. “can i make you cum, please, darling?”

“yeah.”

he smiles, hands moving to hold your hips. “whatever my girl wants.”

no sooner than the words have left his mouth, matty fucks up into you as fast as he can. you've no idea how he can even move at such a brutal pace, but you're not about to complain; you're not about to do anything, actually, except cling onto him and moan into his neck, your second orgasm of the night creeping closer and closer with every thrust of your boyfriend's hips. urging it on even faster, you slip a hand down to your still-sensitive clit, matching pace with matty and pulling the pleasure out from your very bones. you throw your head back, whimpering praise and pleas for him to get you off; matty watches, mesmerised. “fuck, you're beautiful,” he groans, still fucking you with reckless abandon. “cum for me, please, please. wanna watch you, wanna make you feel good. need it, darling, need you to cum.”

his pleading is what does it for you; with a wail, you bury your head in the crook of matty's neck, whimpering into him as you cum for the second time in under an hour. he brings a hand to the back of your head, tenderly holding you close as his hips stutter to a stop, murmuring more pleas into your ear. “fuck, fuck, please let me cum, can't - shit, darling - can't hold it any longer.”

“do it,” you speak into his skin. “cum, baby, fill me up.”

matty whines, thrusting up into you a final time. he wraps his arms around you as he cums, kissing your shoulder as he recovers. “thank you, sweet girl. so good to me.”

“so good for me,” you lean forward to kiss your boyfriend, both of you unbothered by the cum leaking out of you and onto his stomach when he slips out of you. “always exactly what i need.”

matty smiles. he holds your face so carefully, caressing your cheeks when you pull apart. “i've changed my mind.”

“about what?” you frown, confused.

“about what my best birthday was,” matty giggles, still panting for breath. “it's this one. hands-down. fuck the football.”

you laugh. “can i get that in writing?”

“after today? you can get anything you want,” he laughs, slightly manic, shaking his head in disbelief. “i can't believe you bought and wore that outfit for me, darling. sexiest fucking thing i've ever seen, christ.”

“i'm glad you liked it. i had a lot of fun,” you kiss his nose. “happy birthday, baby. can i clean you up?”

“in a minute, my girl,” matty wraps his arms around your thighs and tugs you until your core hovers over his face, currently set into the biggest smirk you've ever seen. “my turn first.”

[plantinghobbies]

a 10pm thought re: oral between friends

thinking about fucking around in the studio with the guys & making an offhand comment re: bringing back the blowjob lyrics & george hitting u back with can't do that cos healy's not getting them anymore. & matty just tells u guys to fuck off as usual but it sticks with u and u start scheming. 

it comes up again a week later on the floor of his living room, with you stretched out on his concrete floor flipping through one of his wanky coffee table books. he’s settled on the couch just above you, watching you laze about at his feet like a housecat in the sun. 

“y’ look nice down there.”

he means it innocently enough, but it’s the perfect opportunity to push him around a little.

“yeah? giving you some inspo for that new blowie song?”

he rolls his eyes hard, reaching out a socked foot to nudge you teasingly on the shoulder.“yeah haha very funny matty in his incel era.”

and maybe its the warmth of the sun making you delirious, or just the overwhelming domesticity of the moment, but the words leave your mouth before you can even think to stop them.

“'m being serious. i’d get you off, if you wanted.”

matty almost chokes to death on his own spit.

“don’t fuck me about.”

you might as well have socked him in the jaw for the look on his face. his mouth has fallen slack, just slightly, and his expression reads as vaguely pained. 

the silence between you carries on for a little longer, and you can see him disappearing further and further into his own head. its in moments like these that you realise perhaps he’s more of a sap than you’d thought. public image matty necks tequila and takes his coffee black, but yours would prefer a malbec and a cappuccino with two and a half sugars. public image matty gets off with groupies and regularly toes the line of public indecency, but yours is looking at you like he might keel over and die at the prospect of a blowjob. you’d been half joking really, but the intensity of his reaction has shelved any plans you'd been harboring to tease.

“‘i’m not,” you shake your head resolutely, suddenly developing a stomach ache at the consequences of your own actions. “i’d never.” despite attempting to maintain a flirty tone, you have to swallow down a lump in your throat the size of the texas.

“kiss me first?”

“huh?” your reply comes out as more of a breath than coherent speech.

“if we’re gonna do this, 'wanna kiss you first. will you do that for me?”

you're not sure what he's playing at, really. you're more than happy to oblige, of course; you'd dreamt of kissing matty loads of times. admittedly never as precursor to casual oral, but you'd take what you could get. you'll chalk it up to being another facet of his sentimental nature. that, or he just needs a minute to work himself up before you get him undressed.

either way, you huff and scramble up to meet his request only to be stopped by a gentle hand on your cheek. his hands are so big, so warm, and you can’t help but nuzzle further into his touch. you're playing all the right cards and he and he still doesn’t kiss you, just lets his eyes linger on your embarrassed face and presses a bruising thumb to your bottom lip. 

“fuck, matty - please.” he’s just teasing you now, he has to be. it's making you itchy.

“please what, darlin’?”

“thought you wanted a kiss. you’re being cruel.”

“don’t like me mean?”

“dirty, maybe. not mean.”

“jesus christ. alright, ok.”

he surges forward then, eyes squeezing shut in a uniquely sexy breed of anguish. if he weren't already holding you steady, the force of the kiss might’ve knocked you on your ass. his lips smear against yours messily; movements punctuated with gentle, bubbly gasps. it's hot and messy and charged with desperation - which reminds you abruptly of the task at hand.

he grunts when you draw back, but his disappointment is short-lived. 

“can i suck you off now?”

matty thinks he might actually die.

when you slide down and start messing with the zipper of his jeans, hes certain.

from the minute you get your mouth on him, matty’s floundering like he doesn't quite know where to put his hands; where he’s allowed to. he’s writhing around against the couch cushions, hands balled into tight fists atop his thighs. to your great satisfaction, he can't seem to look at you for longer than about five seconds at a time. every attempt only results in a littany of curses and his eyes flying to the ceiling instead. you figure he's trying to hold off on his orgasm, but you're greedy; you want him to look at you.

you intend it as a bit of a power move when you reach for his hand and bury it into your hair, but it backfires completely when he gives it a tug and you moan all slutty around the length of him. you’d been doing so well keeping your sounds to a minimum, but the dull ache sends a shock of pleasure up your spine. 

something about the action must’ve done it for matty too, because not a second later he’s spilling down your throat with garbled incoherence and choked groans. ‘fuck, ’m coming, fuck -”

you ride it out with your mouth flush to the hilt of him, eyes closed with concentration in committing the sounds of his climax to memory.

finally, his eyes drop down and burn right through you as pull off him and place a chaste kiss to his inner thigh.

“up,” he chokes out, bordering on frantic; “up - come here.”

you comply happily, dopey with pride at having caused the fucked out look on his face. he manhandles you easily despite his exhaustion, slotting you comfortably atop his thighs and squeezing your waist.

he looks lovely like this; lips bitten raw and sweat beading at his hairline. you want to eat him whole. 

it’s different when you kiss him for a second time, after the dust of his manic lust has settled. its quaint almost; clumsy and a bit unsure. like this is perhaps more intimate than any moment preceding it. every second movement of his lips is punctuated with weak, breathless thank yous.  his lips are still parted slightly when you pull back, as though you’ve cut him off early from his ministrations. your heart flutters wildly in your chest. 

“fuck, stop looking at me like that. you’re mental.”

he sounds pained again. you muffle laughter and continue toying with his fingers where your hands are gently intertwined.  “like what?”

“all sweet and that like you didn’t just have my cock down your throat.” 

“i think that was very sweet of me.’

“fuckin’ more than. gonna write a whole blowjob album now, honest.”

“can i do it again? later, i mean?”

for the third time today, matty's soul nearly vacates his body and ascends to the heavens.

"'f i ever turn you down for that, please smack me 'round the mouth."

you giggle breathlessly, and matty gives you disbelieving sort of smile and lets his forehead fall slack against your shoulder. it's only now in the afterglow of your determination to get him off that you settle into the discomfort of your own arousal. he's gone all warm and sleepy beneath you, tracing circles on the bare skin of your knee, and you suddenly feel like you might burst into tears. "sorry, uh- i gotta pee."

a flicker of panic flashes across matty's face, and you can tell hes back in that worried, overthinking place in his brain. that is, until he takes in the heaving of your chest and the way you can't quite keep your legs still.

"oh, lovely girl. need me to take care of you now too, 's that it?"

arguably nobody had ever needed anything more. you’ve soaked through since he’d first kissed you; itchy and sweating through your clothes. 

“please, matty.”

the desperation in your voice seems to knock the energy back into him tenfold. it’s forceful but never rough when he maneuvers you onto the couch beside him and drops to the floor. "i've got you, darlin'", he admonishes, hiking your skirt up past your thighs.

“tell me if i do anything you don’t like, yeah?”

you find it hard to imagine he’d be capable. you nod anyways. “yeah, yes - okay.”

promoted to his knees, matty edges between your legs and drapes an arm across your hips. the implication hits you like a train; you won’t be able to hold still. 

fuck.

[plantinghobbies]

The Same Damn Thing (collab with @sycophanticsolipsism)

Here’s part 5, can’t believe we’ve only got two parts left! Thank you to everyone for your likes and reblogs and kudos and feedback, can’t tell you how much it motivates us and how much we appreciate it. It truly lifts our spirits so thank you thank you. The most thanks to @sycophanticsolipsism for supporting my sorry ass through a writer’s block, this thing would probably still have like 100 words without you! 

If you need to catch up, check out the masterlist.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, angst, probably some typos

Part 5: If I Could Go Back To That Evening We Met…

“I’d kill to go back to that evening we met. Trembling hands as I’d ask for your number again, you saw me different then…when I held your heart in my hand” - Lewis Capaldi

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Nobody on the flight is happy to be leaving the magic of Rome, clutching their Prosecco and pecorino Romano from duty free as if it will evaporate upon takeoff. Nobody except Val, that is. She is buzzing, fidgety, can’t get out of this goddamn country fast enough. She has been in constant motion since the moment she’d woken up this morning. 

Val’s had her share of mornings (less than some of her friends but more than she likes to admit) where she woke up disoriented and hungover, unhappy with where she was and a little foggy on how she got there. But this morning? This one was by far the worst, because she didn’t wake up next to a strange guy wearing one sock drooling on her shoulder. No, instead it was Matty - adorable, inconvenient, sexy Matty. By one night stand standards, it was probably the safest she’d ever been. And yet it was the most reckless, brainless thing she’d ever done.

‘It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine.’ She’d repeated it to herself over and over - during her shower, throughout the most chaotic packing job of her life, and all the way to the airport. But no matter how much Val tried, her treacherous bitch of a brain would not let it go. She rocks up to the gate after boarding has begun, sliding into her seat at the front of the plane (she’d used the few minutes waiting for a taxi at the hotel to switch her seat), keeping her head low and her sunglasses on (she takes back all the times she previously called people wearing sunglasses on planes pretentious twats. She gets it now). She’d held her breath as he boarded, pretending to be asleep when she saw his eyes searching for her.  Her noise cancelling headphones provide little relief from the rattling around in her head. Now that she’s stopped, albeit forcibly, it’s harder to keep the thoughts she’s desperate to avoid at bay. 

She catches up on texts as the plane taxies, until her friend Dina responds to a picture of Barry Keoghan in the group chat with a resounding “fuck me” and Val’s transported back to the moment Matty whispered that in her ear as he slid into her for the first time. Opening her email once they’re airborne, her inbox is flooded with emails from him from the last few days, running commentary on the conference sessions they’d attended separately. Reading his cute ramblings on the boring presenters and arrogant question askers felt like a shiv jabbed through her ribs. Finally, she gives up, slamming the laptop shut and closing her eyes. Maybe if she’s unconscious she won’t think about it. 

If her life were a movie, Val would have stirred to light stubble nuzzling her neck, his hand snaking down her front, his gruff voice whispering filthy nothings in her ear. But life wasn’t a movie. Instead, the blare of the wakeup call had jolted them awake, her elbow colliding with his jaw as they both scrambled to answer it. By the time Matty’d thanked the hotel staff with broken Italian, Val was already in her jeans, searching for her earring while avoiding looking at him completely.

“Val…” His voice is low, shaky, uncertain, like he’s approaching a caged animal. Val’s heard him employ that tone a hundred times before - with clients and colleagues when he wants to win them over, with their uni friends when he was trying to mediate a dispute between them, with Marin when she was pushing herself too hard toward the end. But he’s never used it with Val before, until now. He thinks it’s full of charm and confidence and take-charge-ness. But what it feels like right now is patronizing. It’s the first time Val fucking hates the sound of his voice.

There’s a twinge in her neck she’s not sure the cause of as she whips her head around. “Don’t give me that tone.” 

Matty physically recoils, blinking stupidly back at her. “I don’t know -“ He looks down at the bed before standing, moving to the chair in the room, maybe to put more distance between them, escape the scene of the crime. 

“Yea you do!” 

“Look, I’m confused too but…” But she isn’t. Confused that is. She may not be on board with all her actions over the last several hours, but in this moment, she is in full control of how she feels. 

Angry, that’s how Val feels. Angry at herself for being an idiot cliche who slept with her boss. Beyond annoyed at him for not just leaving her the fuck alone to languish on Richard’s team all those months ago. Furious with whatever early Roman asshole invented wine in the first place, with its inhibition-altering goodness. And don’t even get her started on Marianne, who landed them in this joint-room trope predicament in the first place. Yep, her shit list is growing by the minute. She would have NEVER done this at home. Never. She needs to get back - to her bed, to her routine, to her goddamn sanity. Oh, she is clear on her emotions alright. 

“Oh, I’m not. I know what this was, no need to explain it.” Sheets and pillows are flying now as the search continues for her earring. “Listen, we can’t miss our flight and I need to find my earring. I can’t lose it, it’s—“

“Marin’s, I know.” 

“Of course you do.” She’s looking in the mini fridge now, which she knows is ridiculous, but she just has to keep moving. “Obviously, you’d remember your girlfriend’s ear—“ 

Matty’s chair scrapes against the floor with a harsh sound, drawing Val’s eyes over to his body. Bad idea,  as he sits up abruptly and leans forward. “Listen, I don’t know what you heard about us.” Us. The word hits her like a visceral gut punch, a dull ache radiating out from her chest. It’s one thing to think it and another thing altogether to hear it. Her worn patience snaps, she can’t sit here with the smell of sex still lingering in the air and think of them. She just can’t. “It’s not what you th—“

“Aaah, got it!” Fuck, thank god. Her shirt she can do without but there was no way Val was leaving without that earring. She readies to flee, gathering her bag and looking around for her key card… before it settles on her that she’s in her room. She can’t leave, at least not without looking even more erratic than she feels. Plus, they really need to get a fucking move on to the airport and he’s still shuffling by the bed in just his pants.  

She pauses, back turned to him as she speaks. “Listen” she repeats - it’s what her mum would refer to as a verbal tick, “umm, I’m going to hop in the shower, we’ve really got to go and I’m sure you have to pack and—” she’s moving toward the bathroom now, and the blessed door that will put a much-needed barrier between them so she can wash his scent off, and catch her breath and think. Something she clearly wasn’t doing last night. “And I forgot to pick up one last bag of coffee for my neighbor so I’m gonna run to that place down the square. I’ll just meet you at the gate.” The last part is thrown over her shoulder as she slams the door shut, not broaching any argument. She presses her back to the door, holding her breath, hanging on to her resolve by a thread. After eighteen seconds (her youth swim training finally came in handy), she hears the rustling of his clothes, the click of the lock, and then nothing. The sound that she makes as she finally takes a deep breath sounds like relief, and yet it doesn’t feel like it.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When they land, Val is off the plane like a shot, power walking through border control, not looking back. She implores every God she’s ever heard of - she even throws Dumbledore in there for good measure - that her suitcase is already waiting for her at baggage claim, assisting her quick getaway from the walking reminder in a wrinkled black suit and raybans somewhere behind her. But she must have exhausted all her luck between rounds two and three last night because the conveyer belt hasn’t even started moving yet (fucking Heathrow). He catches up to her a few minutes later, which is unfortunate because she was hoping to not see him until sometime next month. Maybe year. Decade. Never? She knows she’s being childish but at least now her mood matches her actions. Her boss! Her sister’s something. Her friend.    

The look he levels her with is heavy with impatience. Oh, he’s waiting for her to say something? Fat chance, talking to him is what got her into this mess in the first place. Val talked herself right out of her senses and into his bed. Her bed. A bed. Speaking of, she wants to get to hers so she can crawl into it and die. “Where the hell are these bags?!” Mumbling to herself as a hideous green paisley suitcase makes a full go around the luggage turn style again before Matty seems to get fed up with their verbal game of chicken, taking a deep breath and letting a long sigh preview his words. “Well I guess I’ll sta-“

“Matty?” A high-pitched voice calls from somewhere behind them. Saved! Maybe there’s some magic left for her after all.

He whirls around to the voice, which is attached to a striking woman who Val does not recognize. Probably an enterprising networker from the conference. Now’s her chance to back away, book it to the other end of the carousel. Hell, maybe she should just abandon the bag, she can always come back and get it later. Having decided on letting present Val off the hook and leaving future Val to deal with the postponed chat with Matt, she turns to leave - when the woman steps into (invades is more like it from where Val’s standing) Matty’s personal space, confidentially, almost intimately. Val is glued to the spot, curiosity getting the best of her.

“Cheryl…hi, what are you - it’s nice to - aah” He awkwardly goes to hug the woman but they get tangled as they lean in, barely manage a weird half hug, half cheek kiss. Awkward is not a trait she’s used to seeing on him, and it really doesn’t suit. 

Val doesn’t know if it’s years of computational science training or the hours of true crime documentaries she’s devoured but something has her mind whirring, interest piqued, collecting data on this new person. Tall, brunette, well dressed, older (she can’t be more than Matty’s age but Val is feeling petty all of a sudden). 

“So that’s why you’ve been so hard to reach lately. Long trip?” Cheryl’s eyes dart towards her and then back to Matty, clearly content to not make Val’s acquaintance. She’s toe to toe with Matty now, which Val knows from no more legitimate source than Cosmo is a sign that they’re clearly comfortable in each other’s personal space. Physical space. Val doesn’t like where this is going but can’t seem to look away. 

“Ehm no, just Rome. Conference.” He clears his throat into his fist and begins rocking on his heels in a way she’s never seen him do before. Who the fuck is this woman? “You?”

“Showcase in Sweden,” Cheryl says as if this explains everything. It doesn’t, not nearly enough. Be more specific Cheryl, you’re not giving me a lot to work with here! “But I’m home for a few weeks. We should…ummm…get together again, last time was… fun.” She punctuates the last part, dragging a manicured nail down Matty’s chest. Val knows later (once she’s home and showered and slept and sane again) she’ll admire Cheryl’s boldness, wish they were friends so she could ask her how she seems to manage more confidence in that one finger than Val seems to have in her whole body. 

For his part, Matty does finally step back - or maybe he just loses his equilibrium in the presence of Miss Congeniality (she can’t help it) - and collides with Val, startling as if noticing her for the first time. And in this moment, the data set is complete - she doesn’t need to gather any more information to come to her conclusion - they’ve fucked. Recent enough that Cheryl doesn’t hesitate in initiating contact. Intimate contact that had him seemingly forgetting all about Val. The woman he slept with last night! 

Keep moving. 

Before he can move to introduce her or address her or do anything with her, she spots her bag, lunges for it, and leaves without another word. 

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Keep moving. 

There’s a Diet Coke stain on Val’s sweater, a general stale smell in the air that she’s pretty sure is coming from her, and she’s stiff and sore in areas she hasn’t been in a while. But she can’t go home. Because home has the couch where they sat till her head ached and back screamed, pulling and fixing data and railing against their colleagues for fucking up. It’s got the blanket she’d caught him wiping his eyes on as they watched Manchester By the Sea together. And the fucking grease stain on the edge of her carpet that he didn’t think she knew about from the pizza he’d dropped on it. (She might have to burn that rug, or sell it.) And the old journal tucked away in her closet filled with her thoughts of him that show just how stupid she’d been for him and for how long. 

So no, Val doesn’t go home. When the cab driver asks where to, she rattles off the first place that comes to mind, dragging her suitcase behind her out of the backseat and into the cinema. The obviously-stoned teenager behind the counter doesn’t bat an eye when she asks him for one ticket to the “least fucking romantic thing you’ve got going here,” punching a few buttons before spitting out a stub and receipt for the latest installment in the Saw franchise. But not even gore and guts can keep her mind from drifting. The torture on screen ramps up - Val wants to picture Matty groaning in agony as she tortures him for all the shit he’s put her through today but all her mind can seem to conjure are his moans of pleasure. 

She’s pictured him between her thighs so many times that she’s probably imagined every move he’s making tonight, from the moment he started trailing his lips down past her breasts. The way his mouth licks at each of her ribs as he slinks down her body seems familiar. And Val knows that she’s pictured him licking his bottom lip the way he does now as he slides her panties to the side with his finger. But all of these fantasies, she realizes now, have been devoid of the single hottest thing she could never imagine. His sounds. Because the gutteral groan that escapes him as he licks into her for the first time is like nothing she’s ever heard before. It must have surprised him too because he pauses after that first taste, resting his forehead against her pelvis, heavy pants tickling her skin. Val’s hands instinctively find his hair, raking through it, fingertips massaging the top of his head. She’s a little uncertain why he paused but she can’t help but stop and appreciate the intimacy of this moment, something new for them even after all their years of knowing each other. 

“Christ,” he mutters, rolling his head slightly back and forth as he plants lazy kisses wherever his mouth lands, seemingly unhurried. But not knowing what he’s thinking begins to make her anxious. Was there something wrong? She’d waxed recently (not that it mattered and fuck him if he thought it did)…right? Yes, yes definitely. Maybe it wasn’t his thing, had she pushed him to do it? Oh god, was she the problem?

Her hand slid from his hair to his jaw, trying to coax him back up her body. She gasps at the quick snatch of her wrist, firm but gentle, his large hand encircling her wrist easily. He slides her other one alongside it, pinning both of her wrists in place easily on her left side. 

“I just….you don’t have to….listen, just come up and we’ll…”

“Val?”

“Yea?”

“You are the fucking best thing I’ve ever tasted. Now stop thinking and let me enjoy it.”

She walks out halfway through the movie, her fickle mind unable to give into the distraction for long. There’s a cafe right next to the theater and Val ignores the annoyed glances she gets for hogging a table meant for two. But she needs room for her baggage. ‘Fitting’, she thinks. 

She’s on her second latte and third episode of Derry Girls when her mum calls. Normally, she’d put her off until she’s in a better mood to chat, has more energy to pretend. One of the hazards of having a psychoanalyst for a mother is that every interaction can feel like a session, unable to avoid her trained instincts. But she’d already dodged her calls twice and Val is certain that even though her mother knows she was traveling with Matty (her mother was so relieved when Val said Matty was going, you’d have thought he was a 6’5 bodyguard instead of a 5’10 casual exerciser), if she doesn’t pick up a third time Gwen will start to panic. After what her mother’s been through, she tries not to blame her. 

When Gwen asks how the trip went, Val picks her words carefully, trying to muster believable excitement behind it. “Good!”

“Really? It doesn’t sound good?” Clearly, her acting needs work. 

“No, it was.” She tries again, hoping the raised octaves in her voice would make up for the lack of it in her mood. 

“You and Matty were in Rome for a week and it was only good? I find that hard to believe.”

And she doesn’t know if it’s the sudden softness in her mothers’ usually firm voice or her own jet lag but Val feels the dam crack and break easier than it has in years. And it’s not a dainty crack either, where a tear slides down her cheek accompanied by one of those cute hiccups. No, Val is not a cute crier, never has been. It’s full on sobs, her splotchy face screwed up and her attempts to breath turning into snot-logged guffaws. She’s word vomiting her train-wrecked thoughts to her mother, trying to hide her teary face behind her crumpled napkin. The guy at the table next to her - some young college kid who probably hasn’t lived long enough to make the idiotic mistake of wanting someone you can’t have - tries to appear casual as he side-eyes her, giving her increasingly dirty looks before he slides his laptop and book off the table and jogs out of the place. ‘Yea kid, run so you don’t have to see what your life will look like in ten years,’ she thinks, reaching for the unused napkin on his table and blowing her nose loudly. 

Val spares her the more salacious details but knows Gwen gets the gist. Silence follows, for so long that Val pulls her phone out of her bag to check the connection is still good. 

“He calls me every year, you know.” Her mother’s voice is soft, vulnerable.

Of all the things she expected her mother to say, this was not it. “Who? Matty?!”

“Yesss darling, Matty. Every year around the anniversary.” Val rolls her eyes, of course he would. He couldn’t just make it easy for her and be a dickhead she shouldn’t have feelings for. Her mother’s voice is still flooding her earbuds “…started out with a card the first year but then he missed the second one and called all flustered from some party boat…in Ibiza, I think.” Gwen’s laugh is another thing that Val doesn’t hear that much of, wishes she heard it more. “Said he was rubbish with anything analogue and asked if I wouldn’t mind if he called from then on.”

Val grips her napkin, busying herself with shredding it into pieces. “He always asks about you. Bless him, probably thought he was being so coy, but it was obvious that he was digging for info on you.”

“Me?” The shrillness in her voice attracts a glare from the guy who’s taken over the recently-vacated table. She glares right back. She can be hysterical if she wants to here, it isn’t a bloody library. 

“Don’t sound so surprised. Of course, you. Who else?” There’s rustling on the other end, the unmistakable whimper of her parent’s golden retriever as he scratches at the back door, desperate to go out. Val is suddenly homesick in a way she hadn’t been in over a decade. “I thought you all had something going at school before…”

“No, mum.” Val interrupts before that thought can even fully form, can’t take hearing someone else verbalize it. “It was him and Marin…”

The sharp bark of laughter cuts her off. “Marin? No darling, definitely not.”

The confidence with which her mother says this should make Val feel better, someone outside of her own thoughts refuting her worst nightmare. But instead, her hackles rise, instantly petulant at being so easily dismissed. Her next words are biting.

“Well, I was there so I think I would know.”

“You certainly know a lot.” Great, her mother’s passive voice. It’s a reliable tool for de-escalation, but all it seems to do for Val is piss her off more.

“Well, how would you know? You weren’t here!“ She hates how easily she reverts to sounding like a child with her mum. 

“Because she told me things.” The unlike you goes unsaid.

“I-“

“Honey, you’ve always kept things close to the vest. Ever since you were little.” Her mother anticipates her defensiveness “It’s ok, it’s just your nature. But it wasn’t the same for your sister. She told me eeeeeverything. Including the fact that she was asexual.” 

Val’s cheeks flame in the way they always did whenever either of her parents even said the word sex. “Wait, what?”

“Yes darling.” She says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“No, I-“

“Honestly Val, it’s perfectly normal, some people just aren’t driven by carnal ins-“ At that word, Val is transported back to the mortifying moment she’d asked her mother the definition of carnal at the ripe old age of 7, having come across it while trying to read one of her Nan’s trashy paperbacks with Fabio on the cover. Her dad had been livid but her mum had simply sat  Val down and explained the birds and the bees. Val had never asked for a clarification on another word since. 

She’d very much like to not relive that whole ordeal now, or ever again. “Mum, I know what asexual means. I just, well…” Val pauses, biting her lip in contemplation unsure of what it is that confuses her about the finding. Her sister was allowed to keep things for herself. Val had obviously never told Marin about her feelings for Matty. Thou can covet thy sister’s boyfriend as long as you don’t tell anyone…that’s how the commandment went, right?  But this, this was news that would have changed Val’s whole world that first year of uni. Maybe her whole life. And she’d kept it from her! Just because Val didn’t have a right to be angry doesn’t mean she wasn’t anyway .“I guess I don’t know why she didn’t tell me.” 

“Oh bug, I think she would have. If she had had the time.” Gwen’s voice goes soft again in the way she only gets when talking about Marin. Or her own parents. Val hates making her mum sad. 

“Well, good to know, I guess. Still doesn’t mean he didn’t fancy her.” The sigh on the other end of the line 

“Honey, this isn’t really about your sister, is it? It’s about you. I mean, it’s fine to be guarded.” ‘Well, thanks for your permission mum.’ “But if you like someone, sometimes you, well, you’ve got to go out on a limb. Do something that you can’t walk back.”

“Uh uh Val, eyes on me baby,” Matty’s thumb taps at her hairline, bringing her eyes back to his. “There she is, that’s my girl.” His smile is so soft, so incongruous with the harsh snap of his hips moments before. He dips his head, nose nuzzling hers as his lips skim over her Cupid’s bow. “I want to see you.”

Well, she’d definitely done that. 

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The elevator dings as it arrives at her floor, Val’s mind barely registering it as she stares at the hideous bargain carpet that covers every inch of her building. Two days ago, her Mum’s revelations would have had her spinning. But today, they just make her more tired. Tired of trying to decipher what it all meant - every word, every action. Tired of carrying around hope for all these years, foolish, unfounded hope. Hope could be heavy and she’d been carrying it since an early age, when Hollywood had filled her brain with stories of men who gave the smallest crumbs of affection and the women who devoured them like they were full feasts, never giving up and somehow always getting the guy. Beauty and the Beast, My Best Friends Wedding, Jerry Maguire, Bridget Jones’, Sleepless in Seattle. And those were just a few of her favorites growing up. But what those movies didn’t show was the nights filled with insomnia, the self-doubt, the second guessing yourself, the exhaustion that comes with taking every interaction with someone you would die to have - literally every single second together - and reliving it over and over again looking for the seIcret subtexts that would reveal how he felt about you. Wondering, confused, if it was love or if you weren’t just mistaking kindness for care. 

Well, Val was officially giving up. Throwing in the towel. She couldn’t do it any more. She was no Hollywood heroine, she was just a mere woman, and she was tired. Of burying her feelings under shy smiles, then friendship, then a night with him that had only made the idea of friendship impossible. Of wondering if she was wasting time pining for someone when she didn’t even know how he felt. I mean, clearly he was attracted to her but just because he wanted her didn’t mean he wanted to be with her; just because he wasn’t in love with Marin didn’t mean that he was in love with Val. Contrary to how she sometimes acted, she knew she was not the only person of interest on the planet and he could have anyone he wanted. 

And that was all just the personal anxiety. She hadn’t even begun to process how stupid this all was for her professionally. 

As she makes the turn down her hallway, her eyes are drawn to a body, slumped in front of the door to her apartment. Asleep? Dead? Several particularly grim facts about stalkers and serial killers flash through her mind before she clocks the curls, the scuffed shoes, the pack of cigarettes lying next to him he’d clearly taken out to smoke before he must have realized where he was. On instinct, hope rises in her chest before she slaps her palm over her heart, holding it at bay. No, that was enough of that. 

She kicks at his shoe, startling him for the second time that day. “How long have you been here?” 

He doesn’t respond as he clambers to his feet, eyes dragging to his suitcase as if to highlight the obvious answer.

“Ok, other question. What are you doing here?” It comes out breathier than intended but she is genuinely surprised. Thought he’d be off somewhere with that troll Cheryl (she is not proud of how her feminism utterly abandons her in this moment). That she’d at least have a few well-timed sick days to prepare before seeing him again. 

“I’m uh…” The toe of his brogues scrape at the floor .Whatever he wants to say, it’s enough to make him anxious. Which is enough to make Val want to avoid it at all costs.

Summoning her self-preservation, she cuts him off. “Listen, maybe we should do this when we’ve both-“

“Goddamnit Val, for once, please shut up!” His voice explodes in the small space, her gaze immediately going over her shoulder to her neighbor’s door. The last thing she needs right now is a noise complaint. Matty itches at the skin around his throat, as if raising his voice at her is as foreign to do as it was to receive. “I’m sorry, I’m sor- I just, I can’t risk any confusion here. Just need to get this out. Need you to listen. For once.” The attempt at a joke lands with a thud. 

“When I’ve tried to get this out…and, I, just, it gets fucked every time.” His breath is noticeably shaky, hands on his hips as he gazes at the floor. “And I’m sick of, well I’m not sick of trying cause I’ll do that, not afraid…but I’m sick of the…if only I’d been clearer, got it out faster….in that pub, and I just, can’t take it any more…” 

She’s about to tell him she’s not following when he seems to gather that for himself, head lifting to meet her eyes. She’s never been great at eye contact, always hates how put on the spot she feels by it. On instinct, Val glances away, over his shoulder, somewhere safer. A blurred hand lifts in her periphery, hovering near her face but not touching it, until her gaze turns back to his. Reminding her of the eye contact he’d insisted on the night before, as he went down on her, as he slid into her, as she came on his cock and as she’d fallen asleep. 

“Val, I’m crazy about you. Have been for years… and before you say it, Marin and I weren’t anything. Or nothing like you think… I loved her, sure. But not in the way I do you…”

Val’s heard the phrase about the world going sideways before but she’d never really appreciated what it meant until now. She swears her body actually tilts sideways until it feels like the handle of her suitcase is the only thing keeping her upright. And with her equilibrium goes her ability to think straight.

“From the moment I met you when you had just got accepted, there was just something… and then you were dating that prick Roger from the cricket team.” God, Val hadn’t thought of him in ages. She’d been using him, trying to get under him to get over Matty. “…kicking myself that I’d just assumed there’d be time, like you wouldn’t just get snatched up by someone—“

The sleep deprivation seems to pick that very moment to redouble its efforts - she can’t think fast enough to respond. To buy herself time, she vomits out the first thought in her head. “Why didn’t you say something? Back then?”

“What? Rock up to you on the first day ‘Hey Val, d’you remember me? From that one weekend we hung out? Will you please go out with me? Oh, let me help you unpack, show you how shitty the beds are...’” He scoffs, she fucking hates that. “C’mon, I’d like to think I’m better than that…” 

Her eyes look away, not willing to admit he’s right.

“I don’t know if you remember that night…in the pub—“ He stops, the effort of self-editing written all over his face. “What the fuck am I—Of course, I know you remember, like, the shittiest night of your life but I meant right before, when you and I were— “

She’s not intentionally tuning him out but her brain is now unhinged, skipping around and ahead, trying to determine what conclusion he’s coming to. Because the truth is, even if he’s telling the truth (she knows he has no reason to lie about this but she still can’t comprehend this monumental fact that he’s liked her for, it sounds like, almost as long as she’s liked him...) she still can’t have him. Because as the personal anxiety begins to ebb in the face of his declaration, the professional anxiety seeps in to take its place. She knows how this would go. She trusts Matty, of course she does (even after all these years, she couldn’t imagine doing anything else). But in her experience, shit like this - a relationship with a coworker - doesn’t stay quiet, no matter how hard two people try. Someone catches her glance at him differently, he says her name a certain way and suddenly it’s all anyone can talk about. The rumor mill must be fed, anything to make the mundane office more interesting, the hours less boring. It’s not that she blames them, has even joined in in her weaker moments, feeling slightly gross as she listened to the latest gossip, just wanting to be part of the inner circle, to be included. But she’s seen what it does to women, it’s always the women that pay. 

“So, you can choose not to give this a shot, but it won’t be because of some bullshit misunderstanding you have about me and Marin.” There’s that tone again, like he’s confident in the case he made, assured of its persuasiveness. But once again, he’s underestimated her. 

“Marin isn’t the reason.” It’s clear that’s not what he was expecting her to say, he’s caught off guard, eyes flitting back and forth between hers as if trying to scan them. “Well, not entirely. Matty, you’re my boss…”

“I’m well aware, trust me. We can handle it. Or I can.” Her eyeroll is instinctual at this point, honed from years of listening to men brush away her valid concerns as if they were so obviously not an issue that it’s idiotic that she’d even been thinking about it. “It doesn’t matter, as long as we’re tog—“

“No, it does… matter, that is… Cause this won’t be a problem for you, but for me it will be. A big one. My reputation, my career. People will think I slept my way into every job opportunity from here on out…” Val crosses her arms in front of her chest to stop wringing of her hands. 

Matty is shifting his weight from side to side, clearly uncomfortable with the way the conversation has veered off course. “No, they won’t… and if they do, I’d immediately address it. We’d report them! I’m not really a nobody here, y’know.”

“Oh great, I can hear people now. ‘There goes Matty, taking Val ‘under his wing’” the air quotes aren’t really needed with the sarcasm laced in her voice but it’s important to her he knows how much that idea offends her. “I fucking hate that phrase.”

The smell of his cologne tingles as he takes a step closer, that confidence back in his voice. “Listen, I’m not stupid enough to think that it’d be totally fair, or that there isn’t stuff we have to work out—" (he says stuff as though the problem was (is) a small glitch in the code and not a huge attack on her entire system, her career) “—but I am falling in love with you… I want to do that with you. Want to do everything with you,” he chuckles softly, peering into her eyes, “And I think you do too, or at least I would hope so.”

Her resolve is crumbling, she needs him to go away, leave her so she can fall apart in peace. “No.”

“No?” Matty rakes his hands through his hair, interlocking his hands behind his head, his biceps flexing in a way that Val can’t help but find hot. 

“Matty, I…I am just…I can’t…I’ve worked too hard for everything I’m accomplishing now for it to be credited to you. It would kill me to have people think that.” She hates thinking out loud but her trusty brain-to-mouth filter is failing her right now. Thankfully, he fills in the gaps for her. “It’s not worth the risk—“ The words are said carelessly but she can’t stuff them back in. 

“No, I think what you mean is I’m not worth the risk” He says, and on his face she can read all the hurt her simple denial has inflicted. She wishes he would understand, that he would just listen and see it from her perspective because when she puts it all down on paper…well— the cons outweigh the pros, and her lists have rarely ever failed her. What if they don’t work out? What if after all this time pining for each other, they go on a couple of dates and realize they’ve made a mistake? It’s not like they can walk this back. Data isn’t subjective, it’s objective, it’s rational, reliable. Everything that they are not right now. She’s about to summarize it for him, a task which would be made easier if she had time to write it out, organize it. 

Her thoughts feel scattered. “I’m not saying—” but it doesn’t matter that she’s not organized because she doesn’t get far. 

“Got it,” he cuts her off, voice suddenly gruff and cold. “I’m an idiot. Thought last night meant you were still mooning over me the way you used to—jokes on me, I guess.” It’s been a while since she’s seen him like this, wounded animal cruelly lashing out at a perceived attack. This Matty is an unpleasant addition. 

“Oh, fuck off, sounds like you were pining right back. Not that you kept your bed cold waiting though, did you? Fucking Cheryl and…”

“Cheryl?! God you’re unbelievable” His bag slaps against his thigh as he hauls it over his shoulder violently. “Cheryl is nothing. She was a one night stand—“

“—so was I!” They are screaming now and Val is almost surprised that the landlord hasn’t already been called. 

Val doesn’t have time to see his reaction before he moves past her to the elevator. “Your words, not mine” He bypasses the elevator altogether, slamming the door to the stairwell open and disappearing into it. 

When she’s finally in her apartment, suitcase sprawled open in her living room and temporary bed made on her couch, she lets it wash over her. All the emotions she has kept in a vice like grip since the second her feet hit the floor this morning, or rather till her feet landed in the heap of denim where Matty’s jeans had landed the night before. Val wants to be proud of herself for cutting it off, not feeding the beast (figuratively or literally) but what she really feels is regret.

[plantinghobbies]

NEW POLITICS PEOPLE, THIS IS MOT A DRILLLLLLLLL!!!

Politics of Polite Interpersonal Conduct

"Oi!" Grace whacks her on the arm, "Sorry, but as my only child you are obligated by law to provide at least two grandchildren." Marlene snorts, running her fingers across two purring beasts in her lap. For a moment she thinks a curly haired menace or two might not be the worst.

A/N: happy belated lord and saviour eclipse 35 :D hope you had a great one and enjoyed ALL of the AMAZING fics being posted this weekend thanks to @abiiors and @the1975attheirverybest birthday challenge (which I completely missed because I was on work travel and then in Amsterdam, but hope this chapter makes up for it). I'm still catching up with all the work posted and will be reblogging my recs for you (and hopefully finally collecting them in one place). Anyway, enjoy some George Charli Denise cameos, as well as Marlene's mum! Btw saw the guys in Amsterdam, they were amazing and I cried okay

word-count: ~9,000

masterlist. // ao3. // playlist. // add yourself to taglist (no pressure tho)

chapter (13) thirteen.

Marlene cries for a while after reading the letters, lying on the sofa in Matty's clothes while a random playlist of sad songs plays in the background. There is now a generous stack of her own notes interlaced with his. Finally, once her cheeks have dried and her lashes have stuck together from tears, she picks up her phone, light illuminating her face in an otherwise completely dark room. Unblocking him is easy, knowing what she wants is more difficult. Luckily, she falls asleep before her brain has the time to run circles and jump obstacles around the options presented before her.

And then she runs away—quite literally—away from the city, showing up at her mother's driveway at 9 in the morning.

Grace Lilian Denver lives alone—though her best friends visit often—with her three cats in a curious, pistachio green home. Located at the very end of the street. The house stands half-hidden from the view, and though it is completely inconspicuous from the outside, the wild garden of colourful flowers gives a taste of what to expect beyond the entrance.

Behind the deep green oak door, the spacious home is cluttered with a variety of knickknacks, and a myriad of whatnots. The furnishing ranges in aesthetic from seemingly Victorian, to mid-century, to your basic Ikea—typically painted over and drawn on—and the position of each item constantly shifts and changes. The colours of the walls never stay the same for longer than two years, the kitchen cabinets have been painted over about a hundred times, Grace has stuck and peeled the decor stickers on and off them at various points in her life too. Nearly every single piece of furniture travels as if it has legs of its own, armchairs switch places and sofas move from side to side; even the grand piano gets uprooted once or twice in a year. It is only the large bookcase in the living room which never budges an inch, mostly because it has been screwed safely to the wall which hinders its movement potential.

Marlene loves her mum's home. She loves the three wonky birdhouses on the side of the house, and the shrubbery at the front. She loves that each time she comes to visit there is a new mural on one of the dining room walls, and that her room is the one place which remains stuck in past. Never-changing, same as it was on the last night before she moved. She loves the three cats, who remain named Sally, Pepper, and Linus—in honour of her mum's favourite comic strip—even though the latter two of them are both boys. But right now, the thing she loves most is that Matty doesn't know of its location, or that she's all but run off to hide here the moment he let her know he would be coming back. Maturity evades her once more. Huzzah!

The street is quiet as Marlene rolls down it slowly. She waves to the few familiar faces that pop up in the windows as the car moves by their houses—neighbours whose curiosity manages to get the best of them—and wonders if they recognise her now. With her hair short, and sunglasses covering half her face, and a beat-up old car. They likely don't, which probably spikes their curiosity further as they desperately attempt to uncover who would be rolling down their dead-end street at such an early hour. In her head she recounts the thousand tales they could think of. A long-lost relative coming to repair family relations, a lover wanting to rekindle an old flame—a scandalous thought on a street full of families—, or a mistress who funnily enough in her attempt at a quick escape turned the wrong way. Perhaps she's just someone's new babysitter. She could be an au pair for all they know, most people living here could have one. Somehow, being anyone but Marlene Denver sounds more appealing at the moment.

In the end, it's just her boring old self that steps out of the car at the end of the road, but only after she's blocked in her mum's green 2002 Mazda. From the trunk of her car Marlene hauls out her backpack and a duffle-bag, then drags her feet to the front door. With a press of her forehead—she can't be arsed to set down the bags—the doorbell rings out a bright tune, and in less than a minute her mother's surprised face welcomes her in.

"Well, good morning my only daughter whom I haven't heard from—other than an occasional Instagram recipe—in over a week," the woman says appearing entirely too awake for such an ungodly hour of the day; especially when Marlene feels completely run over. Perhaps she shouldn't have gotten up at five in the morning to flee London, no matter the urgency of her quest.

"Surprise," sings Marlene, doing her best jazz hands while hoping none of the neighbours can see her. It completely ruins the vaguely mysterious reputation she's cultivated in her minute long drive down the street.

Grace narrows her eyes at her, that all knowing motherly glint sparkling in them, "Don't take this the wrong way, Lenny, but what are you doing here?"

The first mistake Marlene makes is hesitating before she answers, "Can't a girl surprise her mumsie? Or is it illegal now?"

The second mistake she makes is removing her sunglasses. Beneath them her green eyes are rimmed red and swimming with melancholy. Grace—a well-versed observant painter zeroes in on it, "Have you been crying? What's happened?"

"Oh, bugger," sighs Marlene. "Can we do the heavy emotional stuff after coffee? I've been up since four..."

There is a pause while her mother grapples with the instinct to push until she learns what has been bothering her only child, and then, "Fine. Coffee first," she concedes walking away, down the hallway and to the left.

Marlene follows behind, kicking her shoes of swiftly and hopping into a pair of old fluffy slippers that are always laid out for her.

"The kitchen's a bit of a mess," Grace mentions noticing Marlene's shocked face and darting eyes at the doorway.

With the amount of chaos in the kitchen she can't even begin to decide where to focus her attention. Marlene slowly moves forward, careful not to step on the kitchen towel hiding on whatever her mum has spilled in the floor. To her left the table is covered in flour, and then there is sugar all over the counter by the sink. In the corner there are four empty cartons of milk lying on the floor. Her mum stands leaning against the counter, a proud smile on her face. Behind her head, on the windowsill, two packs of butter soak in the morning sunshine likely laid out to soften hours ago. They have since started dripping all over, melting down the light green tiles, and swirling about the grout. Inside the small compost bin there are about a dozen eggshells—though it's hard to estimate when they've all been crushed—and a couple of banana peels. There is whipped cream in a container right by the fridge, melted chocolate in a small bowl to the left, and warm waffles on the plate next to it. On the floor there must be at least a few spoonfuls of poppy seeds, softly crackling under Marlene's Converse. The kitchen sink is full to the brim—bowls, spatulas, mugs galore—and the oven is working away steadily.

"Mum, what the hell?"

The culprit behind the mess chuckles, her back now turned to Marlene as she rummages through a drawer, "If you must know, I was experimenting with some cake batter—" she whips around to face her daughter. "For your birthday, of course. I've wanted to make this lovely—well, now you've ruined the surprise so what does it matter."

"Oh, yes, sorry to inconvenience you on my birthday."

"It's not your birthday yet, give it a couple of days, honey."

"It's my birthday week... almost."

Grace looks at her pointedly, "Almost!"

"Well, don't I feel welcome," mumbles Marlene, circling around to the sink to help put dishes away. "Hello Marlene. How are you, Marlene? How was the traffic? Would you like some coffee which you've been promised but a few minutes ago?"

"There's fresh coffee on the stove," her mum points out. "And almond, oat, and regular milk in the fridge. So, you can pick and choose. I love you but at best this is a bed and breakfast—" she motions at the waffles, "—not a five-star hotel."

"Don't sell yourself short, mum, you're far better than bed and breakfast—at least your food is," Marlene compliments, dipping a finger into whipped cream and licking it up. "And coffee, your coffee could raise the dead—which is exactly what I need."

"Ah, to count the times I've had you sitting at this very table, pretending you’re not hungover to hell—" her mum motions to it, though said table is currently overflowing with bowls and ingredients and not entirely usable, "—head in your hands, assuring me you've just had a bad night's sleep..."

"You can count them," Marlene notes, bringing the cup of coffee to her lips and taking a careful sip. "You can count them on both your hands. I swear you make me sound like such a rebel when in reality I was only drunk ten times as a teen; max."

"And the rest you were coming back home aptly tipsy," Grace winks. "Convinced I was none the wiser, to top it off."

"What a rebel I was..."

"And look at you now," her mum sighs, rounding the table until she's next to her. "All grown up, about to turn thirt—"

Marlene screeches. An ungodly horror film worthy sound, "Don't say it out loud!"

"Someone's testy."

"It's just a reminder that I am one year closer to inevitable death and have not achieved a single noteworthy thing."

"What about the promotion?"

"What of it?"

"Honey, that sounds like an achievement," her mum narrows her eyes at Marlene.

"One I got only because the person actually doing the job left for good—"

"But she recommended you," Grace says with a proud smile. "And that is very important. To have your colleagues recognise your worth... shall I make some banana caramel French toast?" The question is superfluous though, Marlene notes with a quick glance towards yet another bowl with eggs already whisked and mixed with milk.

With a growl in her stomach, she nods, "I have literally never said no to that. Or any of your cooking, actually."

"That's because I am an amazing cook. Chop the bananas please!"

Marlene rolls her eyes, walking to the other side of the table to grab the bananas, only to find them already chopped.

"Amazing cook, amazing painter, amazing with people, great interior designer, wonderful writer—and yet you still wonder where my inferiority complex stems from," she says in jest, popping a piece of banana between her lips.

"Inferiority what?"

"Com. Plex.," repeats Marlene. "Wait, do we have croissants or must I suffer through puny bread French toast because it is my birthday after all and—"

"Of course we have croissants," Grace stops her. "And I thought we had settled this—it's not your birthday yet."

"Then why are you making me my favourite French toast?"

"Because I have to get rid of those bananas, and it will make a nice bribe—if you're done chopping come slice these in half," she nods towards the pastries, "while I make some caramel sauce, and pass me the bananas as well."

"Aye, aye," Marlene exclaims, nearly slipping on a wet patch on the floor.

They eat the breakfast outside by the old wooden table which the two of them painted last summer. Marlene painted the legs and the sides, while Grace created a lovely scene of a meadow with butterflies, bees, and dragonflies flying between the flowers on top of the table. The scene reflects the back garden with its abundance of fruits and herbs. Though wild, there is an order to it—same as everything in Grace's life—one just needs to be privy to her system.

"The peaches look nice," remarks Marlene, eyeing the small tree. It is the youngest of her mum's endeavours and a yearly birthday gift to her.

Grace nods, "They're wonderful this year, and there are so many of them compared to past summers."

"That's because I will be turning thirty, they want to celebrate—"

"How come you're allowed to say it?"

"Well, it is my big girl birthday."

"Don't think it counts as a big girl birthday if you still act like a child," teases Grace, taking a sip of her coffee.

Marlene shrugs, staring out into the garden where real bees buzz around while butterflies float from flower to flower.

"Hey, what happened?"

She knew the question would come; knew she was only delaying the inevitable. Besides, she's never actually kept a secret from her mum. Never before. But that was before David happened. Before she had to grow smart and wary, before she had to throw out her naive notions of epic romance her mum raised her on in spite of her father’s horrible failings. Still, Matty isn't David, and even if he were she's learned from her mistakes. Keeping secrets from people who care about her has led her into bad situations.

Breathe in, breathe out; she calms herself before she is ready to begin.

"Oh, it's—" even as Marlene tries to find a way to begin, the tears start building up. "Fuck, it's just some bloke, okay? It's not even that important, I don't know why I am so emotional over this—"

Grace shrugs, "Because it's not just some bloke, clearly."

"Well, I wish he were!"

"Is this that Matt from your office? 'Cause I've never liked him, I'll remind you of that."

"Oh, god, no!" A dry laugh escapes her lips as Marlene remembers him, "But it is a Matthew, if you can believe that. Matty, actually." Even the way she says his name—so soft and tender still—makes her embarrassed for herself. Ashamed she’s let him wade his way into her life, head, heart.

"Hm," her mother purses her lips in silent contemplation. "Go on."

"He's in a band."

"Oh!"

"He's famous."

"Well, I've never heard of him," her mum supplies as if she knows of all the famous Matthews in the world.

"Matty Healy," Marlene still clarifies, knowing it’s not bound to make a difference.

"Healy, Healy, Healy..."

"Don't think you would know him."

"Well, the name does ring a bell, perhaps he has some relatives around here!"

"Well, you don't know him. I barely know him," she mumbles. "I thought I knew him, but thinking is tricky and assumption is a bitch—"

"I will have to look him up," Grace reaches for her phone.

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because."

"Because?"

"I don't know."

"Marlene."

"I don't know what I want to do."

"About?"

"About the situation we find ourselves in."

"Which is?"

"Complicated."

"Nothing ever is."

"Mum."

"You're being cryptic, and avoidant—tell me about it and I will show you how simple it can be."

"Fine," grumbles Marlene, thinking about where to start. Her mothers knowing eyes—the same shade of green as hers—stare pointedly at her. "I suppose it all started with that car mishap I had; do you remember that?"

"Oh, is he the handsome fine gentleman who never asked you to pay for wrecking his car?"

Of course, her mum remembers that.

"I did not wreck his car," grumbles Marlene.

"I recall a story about his wing-mirror being knocked right off, never to be found again—"

"Oi!"

"So, it is him?" Grace narrows her curious eyes at Marlene, looking for any hint of denial and smiling widely when she finds none. "How did he come about again?"

"Well, funny story—"

Marlene launches into it, keeping a few details to herself. No need for her dear mother—no matter how cool she claims to be—to learn about the exact way Matty's lips felt against her bare skin, or the fact that he'd been shagging her best friend before he decided Marlene might be worth a shag. She does tell her how he made her breakfast when she was hungover—"He sounds lovely so far," Grace comments—as Marlene grows more and more annoyed with her instinct to paint the man in such a positive light. Inadvertently she does. What with the breakfast story, or the time he did not take advantage of her drunk self no matter how hard she threw herself at him—

"Such a gentleman—"

"Mum, he literally did not assault me when I was drunk, the bar is on the floor."

"Yes, but he also took care of you—"

"Again, on the floor."

She tells her about the long walks in parks, and the impromptu trips. How he has learned to make himself coffee on that god awful machine Carlotta got her, and how he's never pushed her further than the boundaries she has set. How he always gives her the olives off the top of the pizza because he knows she loves them more than he does, and that he's been incredibly kind about her writing. Truly when she puts it all out, hangs it up to dry in the warm light of a summer morning in her mother's backyard he sounds like a right angel. And she sounds like a cold, cold bitch for keeping him at arm’s length. For making him bounce around her, for pushing him away just to reel him back in. And at the very end for calling it all off because what?—he dared to act as a single man in New York? After she explicitly told him he could... Only to throw it back in his face with a vengeance a month later.

"Oh, god," she cries out as the story comes to a close. "I am a mental bitch, aren't I?"

Across the table her mum is staring out into the yard. With a sigh, her lips part, "Well, first of all you are my daughter so I will take some responsibility—nay, I shall take all the credit for the mental part."

"Thanks."

"But—" she turns to face her daughter who waits with baited breath, "you have been a bit of an inconsistent... twat?"

Marlene groans.

"That being said I don't understand what the trouble is—He wants you – that’s clear from his

messages. And you obviously want to be with him Lenny. So, where’s the hold up?”

"In my head!"

"That's good," Grace says contemplatively.

"How?"

"You can fix that," she smirks.

"Have you met me? Hello? Your daughter, Marlene, who's been failing at therapy since she turned eleven."

"The only way to fail at therapy is to never go again... besides, I never said it would be simple," her mum sighs. "All I am saying is that if you acknowledge that you are the one putting obstacles in the way of this relationship, then you can acknowledge that you are the one who can remove them. As easy as that."

"Excuse me but when did you become a therapist?"

"I've been spending some time with Mrs Davies from the blue house, picked up on some of it."

"I don't know what to do," whines the younger woman, sipping on the remnants of her coffee.

"I suppose that's something you need to figure out on your own," Grace nods taking one last sip of her coffee. "Which is why I presume you ran here the moment you learned he would be back—because, let's face it, he sounds the type to camp outside that apartment of yours until you two have sorted it out."

"Psh," Marlene snorts, "Load of help you are with your therapising ways."

"I know one thing," her mum's eyes glint with mirth.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing—"

"Mum!"

"It's just that..."

"Spit it out!"

"While you were telling me about him you had this quirk of a smile—right there at the corner of your lip, fighting to break out..."

"Well—fuck."

"Yeah."

"So, how's my cake going," Marlene shifts the topic of the conversation in a subtle and masterful way that only she knows, turning her head to the side in a futile attempt to wipe that ghost of a smile away.

"Well, it was going to be a lemon poppy seed cake, but then I remembered we'd done that last year... so I thought—carrot cake!" Her allows for the swift change of topic, but is far from letting the topic rest. Marlene knows she's bound to pull it up, probably after dinner, after they've cracked open a bottle of white. "But then I remembered that you can poison people with too much carrot—"

"I think you need more than just the cake, mum."

"I don't know how much carrot you consume on daily basis."

"Not enough to kill myself... hopefully."

"Anyway, I gave up on carrot cake because I am not a fan of it either way. Then Mrs Evans—darling woman she is—gave me a bunch of apricots. Says her three trees have been plentiful this summer," she explains. "So, naturally, I am now experimenting with her apricots and our peaches."

"That might turn out to be my favourite cake ever."

Her mum smirks, "Peachy!"

Marlene rolls her eyes directing the topic to her mother’s neighbourhood, eager to hear what the posh people have been up to. And there is a lot to learn. Apparently, Mr Harry Fulton five doors down has been having an affair with not only his daughter's—who is an adorable five-year-old who attends Grace's theatre after-school classes every Tuesday and Thursday—au pair, but also the Beaumonts' nanny who comes in three times a week to help young Mrs Beaumont with taking care of her newly born twins, as well as the two she's had three years ago.

"Poor woman," Grace laments, looking off into the distance as Pepper purrs away in her lap, "imagine having two sets of twins."

"Wonder what karmic law she has broken to get punished like that," ponders Marlene, Linus and Sally competing for a prime spot on her lap, unbothered by the warmth of the day. She on the other hand is slowly growing aware of the excess heat from all the cat love she's been getting.

"Oh!—" her mother gasps. "I've never told you, have I?"

"What about?"

"She was the other woman," whispers Grace conspiratorially, as if they had to worry about being overheard at such an early hour, and in the privacy of her backyard to add to it.

"Oh—oh!" Marlene widens her eyes in scandal, "That'll explain it, though I s'ppose it's unfair that she carries the brunt of it if the twins are the punishment. Wonder what he's got."

"Apparently she pursued him quite ambitiously in spite of his previous marital engagements—or so Mrs Evans says, but you know her. Bit of a gossip, thought I was a lesbian because Rosa sleeps over often—"

"And visits for a month each summer."

"And I guess I must've said one too many times that I would give it all up for Julia Roberts," Grace shrugs.

"I wouldn't mind that one bit, if you're ever worried about how I would feel..."

"Ah, so in case I get to shoot my shot with Julia Roberts—who I'm pretty sure is straight—I should know that I have your full support?"

Marlene nods, "You know what?"

"Hm?"

"Twins aren't such a bad idea, come to think of it—" she stops to consider the pros and cons list she's compiled quickly in her head in the blink of an eye. "Provided that you stop after you have them."

"Do go on," her mum encourages with a curious smile.

"I mean it's two for one!" exclaims Marlene. "One pregnancy, two babies, bit of a hassle to begin with what with all the crying, and the shitting, and the feeding. But if you want to have two kids that's the most efficient way to do it—"

"Ah, yes, you know what they all say: efficiency is the key when it comes to children."

With an enthused nod Marlene exclaims, "Exactly! Two for one, right?"

"How... pragmatic?" Her mum offers cautiously amused.

"Yeah," it makes Marlene stop to think for a second, "maybe I shouldn't have any..."

"Oi!" Grace whacks her on the arm, "Sorry, but as my only child you are obligated by law to provide at least two grandchildren."

Marlene snorts, running her fingers across two purring beasts in her lap. For a moment she thinks a curly haired menace or two might not be the worst.

Especially if she can get them out in one go.

[ ✦ ✦ ✦ ]

The jet lag gets to him, it always does. Matty admires Ross who seems to have that shit figured out. The man has a detailed plan on how to handle the time-zone hop in less than half a day of effort while Matty has to mope about for up to half a week until his whole biological system decides to work in tandem with his geographical location. Fortunately, he tends to visit with his mother on these days, where he gets to be coddled and waited upon as if he is but a helpless toddler... and not a thirty-something year old grown man. Denise contests the grown identifier, says he needs to mature before they—unclear who they are, Matty notes to himself—can accept him into the grown-ups circle. He thinks it's rather hypocritical of her to lecture him on maturity when he gets his lack thereof from her.

"I don't reckon I want to be part of the grown-ups club that let you in and put you in charge," he mutters out, curled up on the comfy sofa as they both do all but watch the movie they spent about half an hour deciding on. It is an odd dark comedy with Bill Skarsgård in the lead role. Matty mainly agreed to it when it became clear that she was not going to watch Suspiria with him.

"I'll have you know that we are very democratic about our decision-making, as adults are wont to do," Denise quips. "'fraid you wouldn't know, seeing as you aren't a proper one yet."

"Oh, my—fine," he groans, "being a boy is much better anyway. You'll be horribly desolate once I fly off to Neverland, never to return again."

"Nonsense," the woman laughs at him. Laughs! "Matty, dear, you are far too old for Peter, though I suppose Hook might need a man on his crew if you would be intent on moving to Neverland."

He pouts, rolls his eyes, and leans to grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the table. "Don't know, I don't much fancy working on a ship docked in a lagoon with the goal of fighting children. Seems a bit too villainous for me, you know? Thought I might simply take my guitar and ignore all sides. Sit down underneath a tree and write a ballad about their many, many fights."

"You do that, love," his ever-supportive, long-suffering mother says without a second beat. "While you do that you can also write a song about the woman you've been so down about and send it to me so I can give you some grown-up advice. That way you could come back from Neverland—seeing as I, in my infinite mature wisdom, will have solved all your girl-trouble—and I wouldn't have to miss you to the point of despair."

"Don't need you to solve my girl-trouble, mum, I'm not twelve," Matty all but shoves a handful of popcorn in his mouth averting his eyes to the film running on as his mother tries to chip away at his suave exterior. Truthfully, he has but half a clue what the movie is about.

"'course not," Denise chuckles. "You were far better at handling your emotions and girl-troubles at that age. Granted the girl-trouble was usually that you pulled on Annie's braid because you actually liked her—"

"God knows why, she hated me."

"And then she smacked you with her pencil case..."

"Promptly maiming me, in case you forgot, mum," mutters Matty.

"Oh, you had a bit of a scratch on your cheek," she shushes his protests. "Then we got her some chocolates and flowers as an apology—"

"Because it sure was difficult for her, nearly losing an eye—wait! That was me."

"Not everything is about you, Matty, darling," his mum shushes him again. "Oh, have I told you Annie is married now? Bumped into her and her mum the other day—was it Saturday?—while doing a bit of grocery shopping in anticipation of your arrival. Might even be pregnant, but I didn't want to assume. God, can you imagine if I had asked and then it turned out she'd just put on some weight!" She pauses to shake her head, imagining the awkward scenario. “Either way, she still looks lovely.”

It's not quite clear what he's supposed to do with the information. The knowledge that a girl he had liked briefly—for four years tops, 9 to 13—in his childhood has since gotten married and is potentially about to give birth to a new human.

"Mum, is there something you'd like to share?"

"I just think if you'd let me solve your woman issues more often... or at least sometimes—seeing you've been reluctant to let me get involved at all—I might have a higher chance of gaining a grandchild before my inevitable departure from desolation."

Matty groans, palms pressed into his face, "Why are you dying of desolation now? I thought that would only ever happen if I left for Neverland, which I think we agreed I wouldn't do though I may have lost the plot of the conversation a minute ago."

"Because I don't have any grandchildren, still!—and before you say it your brother is far too young to carry that burden," his mother warns then glances at the telly. "This movie is silly, innit?"

"Honestly, I know fuck-all what's happening in it, but the older bloke and his missus are mental. Though I reckon she's proper clinically insane, and he's a psychopath... from what I've seen," and he hasn't seen much, bits and pieces in between playing on his phone, and appeasing his mother. "Also, what is my timeline for grandchildren? How long till I've basically murdered you by not providing a grandchild or two?"

The woman he is lucky to call his mother—in spite of her liking for emotional manipulation—scoffs at his question, then stops and thinks on it. She cocks her head to the side in contemplation as Bill Skarsgård seems to bite a piercing out of his co-star's tongue. The scene makes Matty shudder even when he knows it's not real.

Finally, Denise seems to settle on a number.

"Four years," she tells him, solemnly.

Matty shivers again, not at the closeness of the deadline, but the idea of reaching that age and not having made progress. The thought is bound to haunt him before bed that night, it will seep into his dreams, craft a script for them so anxiety inducing that he is bound to wake up before dawn with a terrible sense of failure.

He grins, tightly, "Tight schedule seeing as I have no prospects."

"And you are a burden to your family," she pipes in.

"Decidedly not a burden," he grumbles.

"Besides, you have prospects, you have your Marlene girl," she reminds him, twisting the knife as if he is not her favourite son. Which he isn't, as confirmed by her callous words. Matty should have known, he thinks to himself, he has always suspected she preferred his younger brother.

"I don't—"

"Have her," his mother sighs exasperated at his attitude. "Which brings us back to me helping you with my infinite grown-up wisdom."

He glares at her for a moment, eyes narrowed in annoyance. But she's wearing a wide smile, and a face of confidence and joy. It reminds Matty that this is a woman who on most occasions gets what she wants. She wanted to return a button-up after she herself washed it incorrectly and it shrunk - she did it. She wanted to return an already open container of ice cream without a receipt because it had clearly been spoiled - she did it. There is no point in fighting her, because as his luck would have it this little -discussion- they are having is surely not going to be the one time his mother doesn't get her way.

"Fine," he groans lying down on the couch and crossing his hands on his chest as if this was a therapist's office and not his mother's house. "I was trying to get with her, she wanted to... I don't know, be friends or take it slow, I left for New York and shagged a really hot Instagram model—"

"Oh, Matthew," the disappointment in her voice is palpable.

"Then I came back—brought Marlene gifts, never told her about the model because I am not a fucking idiot..."

"Oh, Matty," really it is unnerving the way he can taste the pity in the air.

"Tough luck, she found out anyway because apparently all of these Instagram women have some shared board where they put up their conquests. And her friend is one, so there you have it," he finishes, eyes tightly shut so he can't see her observing him. "Oh, and she though I gave her an STI, or something, which I did not. But I've sent her a ton of flowers, and notes, and have really truly been desperate and pathetic—"

"As I would have advised."

"Grovelling and borderline embarrassing, come to think of it."

"'Atta boy!"

He glares at Denise, "Yet, she still won't talk to me. She's left me on read!"

"At the risk of sounding old—which you know I abhor, darling—I do think this is a conversation to have face to face."

"Difficult when you can't arrange for a face to face due to being ignored."

"Well, you know where she lives," his mum notes. "Go, stand beneath her window with a boombox or whatever the grand gesture is nowadays."

"I can do that... if you're not too opposed to picking me up at a local police station where I am sure to end up seeing as that sounds like highly alarming, borderline stalker behaviour."

Denise merely grins, "Fine by me"

"The fucking Sun would love it too," Matty giggles. "Imagine if they had a snapshot of me with a boombox—because obviously that is still the grandest romantic gesture—then me being taken away, and hours later the two of us leaving the station."

"They would eat it up!” She’s about to start listing off imaginary headlines when her eyes land on Matty, staring off into the distance through the window. “Come on, out with it,” she says softly, turning the telly volume down.

"She won't talk to me, mum," he sighs gravely, last flickers of a smile dying on his lips. With a tilt of his head, he meets her gaze and continues, a twinge of tension tainting his voice. He has to remind himself it's alright if tears are welling in his eyes. It's his mum, after all, he can cry if he wants to. "Just feels like I always do this—implode things in my life whether I plan for it to happen or not. I didn’t even like that girl in New York!—she was right fit, but I didn’t care—”

“So, why did you do it?”

“Because,” he almost whines, petulant and annoyed with himself.

“Because?” Denise prompts employing her softest, gentlest voice.

“Because, I don’t want to make decisions based on what ifs and potentials—or I said I don’t want to. It always ends with disappointment, anyway. You hope for something, you give up other things, and nothing ever pans out,” he sighs deeply, reaching to a cigarette only to have his mother smack his hand away. With a grumble, he gives up the thought, “So, I make the decision that is realistic at the moment, and I still don’t get what I want—it’s almost like nothing ever quite works out the way I want it to, because I always have to do the opposite of what is right… And I will admit I blew up at Marlene at first—you know how I get, and she was so righteous in her anger. But she was right to be upset—I kept on and on about her, and what do I do the moment I can—fuck someone else?”

He ruminates on it for a moment, Denise quiet by his side, and just as she is about to speak up—surely to comfort him, or assure him everyone makes mistakes and that’s just life for you—Matty continues, “So, I fucked it up further, because why not—y’know, just let it all burn, I s’ppose... Told her she had no right to be upset—said a bunch of shite, really, like a right idiot—told her we were nothing..."

"Matty!" Denise shakes her head at him. "Even if by all account and logic you are not technically in the wrong, that was not the right approach."

She watches his bottom lip pout out, watches his brows furrow as he tries to keep his composure. He's never quite grown out of his boyish mannerisms in that department, always reminiscent of the young boy whose tears she would wipe away as he mumbled on about whatever had upset him. But perhaps that is how all mothers see their children, forever young and in need of care and protection.

"But it's not the end of the world, yeah," she says, pushing a stray curl from his face.

"Yeah, well, spilt milk and all," he mumbles, wiping away at his damp cheeks.

"To me she sounds a bit barmy, a bit scared," his mum remarks. "A bit in the wrong as well, for attacking you like that. And I'm not just saying that because I'm your mother."

"She was right pissed off—and so was I by the end of it. But I figured we would settle it, once we had both calmed down—I mean, she was a mess, drunk and crying, you know how scary drunk crying women are..."

"At least she was crying," Denise notes as if Marlene's utter wretched state that night was a silver lining he has been missing all along. "At least she cares enough to cry."

No shit, he had that figured out days ago. Long before George said it, before Adam pointed it out. None of it truly matters if Marlene decides to cut her losses and continue with her ongoing shut out.

"When you go back to London, when you are both in the same place at the same time... send her one more message. Flowers, chocolates, smoke signals—" Matty snorts, recalling that he’d had the same idea. Makes him feel close to his mum. "Then, if she still doesn't want to talk, you—how do the youngsters say it these days—take the L?"

It makes him chuckle. His mother saying take the L is probably only that funny to him, but he laughs at her. A high-pitch delighted laugh, rolling on the couch until his head is in her lap and she's doing her best to sort out his curls.

"Love you," he sighs out, eyes glued to the screen where Bill Skarsgård's character is finally about to escape whatever fucked up situation he's landed himself in.

"Love you, too," Denise sighs, still playing with his hair.

"Am I your favourite?"

"Sure."

"Can we watch Suspiria?"

"No," she is quick to respond. "I want to watch Normal People."

[ ✦ ✦ ✦ ]

Four movie nights later he is back in the city. Mayhem delights in his return more than anyone else when he goes to pick him up from George's. The dog jumps on him with all his weight nearly knocking Matty over, and licks at his face simultaneously slobbering all over his shirt.

"See," he sends a pointed look towards George who is leaning against the doorway, "this is how excited you should be to see me."

"Sorry, you want me to lick your entire face and nearly knock you to the ground?" asks George. "Is that the expectation now?"

"Well, if that is the only way you can show your utter joy at my return? Yes."

"Mate, you've been gone less than a month," his friend deadpans.

"Good to know I've been missed," grumbles Matty, pushing past the tall man and into the living room. There he bounces onto the couch where Mayhem has yet another chance to express his utter excitement at his arrival.

"Mayhem missed you," Charli calls from the dining room. "But get your travelling arse to the table so we can have dinner, we've been waiting for you for well over an hour!"

Reluctantly he obliges, leaving the dog on the couch as he drags himself to the table just as both his friends take their seats. His bottom barely touches the chair before Charli's attack on his fragile emotional well-being, "Has she finally replied? Do you want me to get involved? I can text her—"

"You don't even know her," George drawls.

It earns him an annoyed glare, "I could still text her, if it might help in any way."

Matty grimaces at the idea, unsure what would help or hurt at this point, and then gives her a mere non-committal shrug in response. Charli regards him with a sad, caring look as if he is a wet puppy she's just picked up from the side of the road, and assures him in her belief that it will all work out exactly the way he wants it to. He wonders whether all these people convinced of a favourable outcome have some divine knowledge he does not possess. Perhaps they gather around a crystal ball looking at the upcoming tribulations of his life and have in their grand meetings found that Marlene decides to chuck her stubbornness aside and affords him the time of day. If so, he would very much appreciate if the information would be shared with him instead of these cryptic optimistic messages of support.

Then again, they might know fuck all, and are simply hoping to manifest it by talking to Matty as if it is a done deal. A less positive option but optimistic nonetheless.

"Let me know if you need some girl advice," concludes Charli, then pushes the salad bowl towards him. "Eat."

"Bossy," he smirks. "Also got girl advice from Taylor Swift, y'know. Reckon that's the ultimate advice a man can get really. She's like a puppet master for women—no offence," he directs at Charli.

"None taken," her reply comes with a confused frown. "Though I don't know if Taylor would like being called a puppet master..."

Matty laughs, nearly choking on a piece of potato. Hand raised to signal for them to wait until he's swallowed the bite, he chuckles on. "She has a song named Mastermind!" He finally exclaims in disbelief and amusement, "Which mentions Machiavelli! If anything, she's proud to be a puppet master."

"I’ll bet she is," across the table Charli grins at him, pouring some wine into her glass. Matty in return taps the rim of his own.

"What's Taylor's advice then?" George inquires. "Was it any better than mine?"

"She helped me write some notes—for flowers I've had delivered to Marlene—but more than anything she is just a fantastic listener," he sighs, taking a sip from his glass. "Like, I have talked everyone's ear off by the time she wanted me to tell her the whole story and yet..."

"And yet..." Prompts Charli impatiently.

"Talking to her was the first time I felt like things aren't that dire, she has this odd calming aura that makes you spill your secrets—"

"Oh, she's good, do you think that is how she gets all this varied material for her songs?" Charli enthuses.

George scoffs loudly, "It's because you've always had this weird artistic crush on her."

"Excuse me, Matty has a crush on Taylor?"

"I do not!" he protests, as if the mere thought of it is absurd. Still, the incredulous look George gives him has Matty reiterating, "Not really, that was ages ago."

"The point still stands," George shrugs, "you two have that whole deep creative bond going for you, you always have. It just clicks back in place when life forces you in the same room, quite adorable if you think about it—"

"What are you even talking about?" Matty stares wide-eyed at his friend.

"—and then you both go your separate ways until life happens again."

"That is so not what happens, we are colleagues. Friends. Friendly colleagues," defends Matty. "There is no cosmic bond between me and Taylor Swift! We hadn't even talked in two years until Jack mentioned her... and well..."

His friend quirks an eyebrow at him, "Yet, you spill your heart out in front of her. Cosmic bond, I tell you."

"Cosmic bond," chuckles Charli, looking between George and Matty in utter amusement, "what would that even be? Do you reckon we’ve got one?"

"Ask your boyfriend, he's the one going on about it."

"Mate, you are the one who called it that, I merely shared some fun facts from our past," says George with an eye-roll.

"We just get along well," Matty mutters, pushing a few baby carrots around his plate.

His mate shrugs again, reaching to pour himself more wine, "Either way, it was Adam who made us place bets on whether you two would ever get together. Personally, I thought it was rather uncouth to bet on whom you might or might not shag."

"You think?" Matty frowns. "Not to mention disrespectful towards her."

"Disrespectful is the right word," gripes Charli with a pointed glare in George's direction.

"Anyway, she made me write a song about it, if you can believe that..."

"Shocker," says George, though Matty deduces by the tone of his voice that he's no, in fact, shocked one bit.

"And I have always had an artistic admiration for her, which I suppose is what you have been talking about," concedes Matty. "But it's just that, nothing else. Believe you me, I've got my priorities straight..."

"Can't believe I'm right... again."

"Well, all her advice was for nothing, anyway. Perhaps it would be better if she had a cosmic bond with Marlene, then she could cosmically tell her to listen to me—"

Charli snorts with laughter, "Marlene is a woman in the modern world, she so does have a cosmic bond with her."

Matty groans at the two little words, vowing to never speak them again until everyone's forgotten and punctuates his resolve by going silent until the end of dinner. George does his best to provoke a response, and Matty takes pride in not giving in. It also gives him a moment to reflect on his options, examining them in grave detail as George's muffled voice tries to distract him. His mum was right, he ought to reach out now when there is no running away.

With that in mind, and no plan to move forward, he simply snaps a photo of Mayhem when they're all lounging on the couch post-dinner and uploads it to his story knowing that this time he's uploading for just one person. And what of it if he keeps opening the app and checking who's seen it. What does it matter if with every like he clicks on the notification to learn if it is her, even if she has been absent from all of them in the past days. Weeks. Who cares if an hour and a half later he sees her name for the first time in over a week on the long list of people who have viewed his cry for attention.

Of course, he has to go do something pathetically stupid and send her a follow-up message in spite of the glaringly clear slaps in the face that his past unanswered messages are.

im back. coffee?

This time around she doesn't even leave him on read, but deep down he knows. He just knows that she has seen it in the preview and left it unread on purpose. Her uploading a photo with three cats not ten minutes later must be a fucking directed at him. Modern fucking smoke signal, if Matty has ever seen one. An off-white flag that lets him know that all of his friends just might be right. Granted, he could just be delusional enough to see it as such but... well, what are the odds? With enough wine in his system, he is quick to accept his optimistic delusions, interpreting her photo as an invite for him to reach out.

After a healthy amount of overthinking, he settles on leaving a comment:

won't donna be jealous?

She likes it. Nothing else.

She likes it, then radio silence.

After that night, he doesn't hear from her for days; well, barely three days but he's been growing impatient in his exile. It drives him insane. He goes for walks; she doesn't reach out. He posts Mayhem covered in mud and she doesn't reply. He has dinner with George and Ross, posts it online, absolute silence. Matty lives and performs for an audience of one. Begs for at least a scoff in his direction, if she won't applaud him. Hell, he feels so desperate for a sign of her attention that he would accept a critique if she had one to give. Anything but silence.

But she offers nothing.

So, he cuts her off. No cow, no milk. If she wants to know what he's up to, she will have to talk to him. He's fine with it, life goes on, Adam applauds him for his supposed maturity. while George laments the loss of hourly Matty updates, and Ross thanks him for putting him out of his misery of having to experience an odd case of second-hand desperation through his Instagram stories. Matty is fine with it all. Really, he is peachy.

Until exactly 36 hours after he has gone cold turkey on his cries for attention. His phone buzzes on the sofa next to him and Matty is reminded once again of the diversity of his emotional spectrum. and how sickening it is to go through a variety of emotions in a span of a few seconds. Annoyance - he's watching an interesting video essay on the toxicity of clout culture and the way social media feeds into it more and more and more. Curiosity, which is self-explanatory. Hope against all odds that it might just be Marlene reaching out to beg of him to start posting again, even though he's started to severely doubt the effect he's had on her life. Perhaps, he was more easily regrettable and forgettable than what he'd given himself credit for. Finally, disappointment because of course it's not her, and simultaneously anger because why isn't it her.

And foolish, in the end, for being silly enough to hope. Yet, reading the contact name the wiley persistent little sliver of it sparks again.

Don Carlotta: Is this your house?

Sent less than a minute ago, accompanied by a photo of his front door.

Matty: why are you sending me photos of my house?

Don Carlotta: come outside

Matty: what if Im not home?

Don Carlotta: come come matthew dont be scared

Matty: ive been threatened by you multiple times

Matty: fear is a natural survival response at this point

Don Carlotta: i come in peace

Matty: am i supposed to just trust that you’re not lying to me

Don Carlotta: might be in your best interest

Matty: fuck

Matty: be there in a moment

Matty: you can come meet my dog

Matty: if you let me live

"Stay," he mutters in Mayhem's general direction then makes his way up the stairs.

Blondie is truly there, arms crossed, hip popped. Waiting for him.

"Hullo?" He offers, keeping a safe distance, as if the woman might jump and Krav Maga his Jiu Jitsu ass at any point. It's a fight he would lose, he'd put his money on that. Even if she is wearing a sundress and a pair of high heels, somehow, he has this inkling that she could take him in a fight.

"Matty Healy," Carlotta's pink lips spread into a content smile. "How have you been?"

He gapes at her, confident that he hasn't looked quite as stupid in a while, "Wha—? How have I been?!"

The woman in front of him simply nods, urging him to go on.

"Terrible, Carlotta. Accused of spreading makeout transmitted diseases—which is very juvenile, mind you—falsely accused even—"

"Yeah, that accusation has been debunked. Sorry." She does not sound sorry at all.

Eyes narrowed he continues, "I've been blocked—very mature by the way, both of you—ignored. Unblocked yet still ignored. Not given a chance to explain myself—which I don't really need to do, come to think of it—" he pauses, taking a deep breath to calm down. “And have I mentioned—ignored!?"

She smirks at him in amusement, curious to learn his side of the story, "Done?"

"Why are you here Carlotta?"

"Marlene's being an idiot," she sighs. "We need to talk."

Matty dares to hope once again.

"Shall we?" Carlotta smiles, walking past him and letting herself into his home.

taglist: @plantinghobbies @tillthelandslide @sugarkane1001 @itsnotgigi1 @sexchocolateorpillowsorclouds @sinarainbows

[plantinghobbies]

Aaaah! Unclear how I missed this but clearing my whole fucking day now to be ready!!

and they say, “she’s so lucky” coming April 29th.

[plantinghobbies]

If you haven’t read this yet, I’m not sure what you’re doing with yourself honestly. Go. Now.

Bracing for rough waters ahead of 😬

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-One

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way? 

Authors Note: This is a long one, it took me a while but hopefully the waits been worth it? EMOTIONS is all I'm going to say.

Warnings: Lots going on- talks of car crashes, alcohol abuse (both in the past) also some previous thoughts on trauma and different coping mechanisms

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

It takes a second for change to implement itself, though it can take a while longer for its realisation to truly hit.

…

I could hear him. 

Bustling his way around my kitchen, singing quietly as he worked on the breakfast he’d promised the night before. Tins clattered, the kettle whistled, and the fridge door rattled closed, all whilst I padded my way towards him, pausing in the entryway to simply take in the sight I’d been gifted.

I grinned over at Teddy, who was currently tiptoeing on the wooden stool I had tucked away for whenever he felt inclined to help me cook, and then at Matty who seemed happy enough with making him giggle whenever he chose to lean in close to sing by his ear. 

“Thinking this through… It's like, one,”

“..TWO!” Teddy laughed back when Matty pointed at him, beaming brightly at the sight of the man’s all too amused face.

“Yeah, ‘cause I'm in love with you-”

“I-I-I-I!”

It was something I’d never thought to even picture, let alone see, my son staring up at a man with such adoration and pride. The two of them simply belonging. The whole scene made me ache with a wanting for it to never stop, but even the best of things had to come to an end I supposed.

Matty turned, a smile painting on his features, only to pause when he caught sight of me, watching them from the doorway. He narrowed his eyes, then gave me a sly smile, before he placed the plate he’d been holding down on the counter and shuffled on closer, arms stretching out towards me as he continued to sing along to his own song. I mean, the ego on him.

“… I’m in love with you.”

It was hard going, attempting to dampen the grin that pulled at the corners of my mouth, especially when Matty wrapped his arms around my hips and started to sway us to and fro. He raised his brows up at me, fully expecting me to finish off the song for him, so I rolled my eyes and laughed the final line out, accompanied by a much louder Teddy, “I-I-I-I-I.”

Matty leaned in close to press a quick kiss to the corner of my mouth, his tangled hair tickling my cheek. He chuckled lowly to himself when I wrinkled my nose at the feeling and tried to escape from his hold, but did eventually let me go.

“What are you even making?” I asked the pair of them around a fond smile, crossing the kitchen to ruffle Teddy’s curls and open up the little window there. I sniffed lightly. “Did you end up burning something too?”

Matty rolled his eyes at that and shook his head with a tut, before he moved to pick up his plate once more, sliding past Teddy and I to grab at the toast which had just popped up. “No.”

“Liar.” I laughed with Teddy, picking him up and settling him on my hip whilst Matty turned his back on us to start buttering the bread. “What’s with the big breakfast then anyway? I thought you had to record today.” I asked him, praising Teddy quietly for the way he’d spooned some sugar and two teabags into a pair of matching mugs for us. 

“Later on,” Matty answered me in a quiet murmur as I peered over his shoulder to nick a fresh piece of toast. “Oi!”

Grinning around the bite I’d just taken, I was pleasantly surprised to find that it wasn’t completely charred. “Better than the last batch.” I told him honestly and with a wry smirk.

Matty just shook his head at me, but even as he turned back to the task at hand I could see the tiny beginnings of the smile he wore. “Said I could cook.”

With a sarky hum, I could only reply, “Does toast even count as cooking?”

I was simply swatted away with a tea towel in hasty retort and Teddy squealed, wriggling to be let down.

“Okay, okay!” I relented with a laugh of my own before I slid on over to press a grateful kiss to the side of Matty’s neck. “It’s very good, merci mon amour.” 

I pulled away with a grin when I felt him tense beneath me, gesturing to Teddy for him to go ahead and grab the milk for us from the fridge whilst I began to pour the hot water into the tea he’d started. 

“What are you up to today then?” Matty asked after having cleared his throat, tossing the butter-covered knife into the sink before he looked over at us. He thanked Teddy proudly when the little monster hurried back from dumping the tea bags in the bin to point at the man’s given cup. “Lifesaver!”

Teddy giggled happily.

Matty’s question had me chewing on the inside of my cheek as I went about lifting Teddy into his usual seat at the kitchen table and laying a plate in front of him. I smoothed down his tousled hair and didn’t quite look in Matty’s direction when I finally said, “You know, the usual… Quick trip to the shops, phone mum, speak to Finn, maybe pop into the park. I hear they’ve put in this new little greenhouse by the pond, you know, just across the bridge?”

I’d thrown it in there, hoping that he might just brush over it. But then Matty didn’t offer me an answer of any kind, so with nothing else to occupy myself with I slowly peered over to where he still stood, propped up against the kitchen counter. 

He was staring down at the bowl of fruit he’d prepped sometime earlier, almost as though the grapes had suddenly grown legs and the banana pieces had turned purple. I sighed quietly to myself and felt my shoulders drop an inch before crouching down to whisper in Teddy’s ear, “Go turn on the tele for me, yeah? We can eat on the sofa today.”

Teddy’s entire face lit up at the very prospect and was so eager in his haste to hurry into the living room that he almost toppled out of his chair. I chuckled in fond exasperation, helping him down and handing him his plate with a quiet caution before allowing him to run off.

It was then that I turned my attention back to the main issue at hand. 

We hadn’t spoken much of Finn and what had happened back at the studio. I’d given Matty his space after it had all gone down, allowed him the time to mull it over and hopefully forget the words that had been said, but I knew that had mostly been wishful thinking on my part. 

Still, I was kicking myself for it now. We’d been good. Things had really been looking up; at work and at home, with Teddy and Matty, and then with Matty and I. Stupidly, I had thought that this might just be something we could have simply plastered over and left to settle, because admitting to the fact that things weren’t alright between two of the most important people in my life just wasn’t something I was ready to face yet.

I’d been selfish in that regard though, it seemed. Because of course Matty had taken the brunt of it all and pretended to shrug it off like it was no skin off of his nose. Leaving me to realise all too late just how much this whole thing had affected him. 

“Matty.” I called to him softly before I gently rested my hand on the crook of his arm, testing if I was welcome. When he didn’t immediately shy away from my touch, I slid in behind him so that I could press my forehead to the curve of his back, to where that little dip in between both of his shoulder blades resided. 

Thoughtlessly, my fingers trailed over the hem of the jeans he’d thrown on that morning, toying with the two belt loops which sat at the very centre. 

We stood there for a long moment in the quiet space of the kitchen, the food going cold but neither one of us really caring. It was only when I felt some of that tension finally ebb in his shoulders that I slowly wound my arms around his middle, smiling slightly when I felt his hands take hold of mine at his front.

“I hate this.” I admitted to him, voice so faint it was muffled by the fabric of his t-shirt. His fingers squeezed my own.

“I know.” He told me after a small pause and I felt him raise his head to gaze out of the small window sat opposite. “I know, Squeaks. Me too.”

I squeezed back.

“I’m sorry we haven’t spoken about it either. That I let it fester. I just wished, hoped even, that you might not linger too much on it, that things would- I don’t know, just end up working out. But I was stupid.”

Matty heaved a weighted breath and I let my eyes slip closed at the motion before he carefully turned in my grasp. He stopped to stare down at me, lifting a hand to tuck a strand of stray hair behind my ear, thumb brushing over a whitened scar I had yet to hide with makeup.

“Don’t. There’s no need.” He murmured to me, though his gaze was focused on the slow movement he’d just made. “Talk to him. He’s your mate, it’d be weird if you didn’t. But, I don’t know. Reckon I just might need some time. That alright?”

I was already nodding before he could even finish his sentence, more than okay with that. “‘Course it is. Though I don’t know much about talking with him, I’m betting on a screaming match. I’m still fuming with how it all went down.”

Matty gifted me a soft chuckle, and although it was hollow he had tried and that was what mattered most to me. It would take time to move past this, I could understand that. “Let him explain first, yeah?”

I frowned, brow pinching with it. “What do you mean? What’s he got to explain?”

He smiled, one of those soft dopey ones of his, the kind he often gave me whenever I’d said something silly or he was humoured by my confusion. “I get it, Mouse.” He sighed quietly, “I don't like how he went about it, it was cheap, shitty even, but he was just looking out for you, babe.”

My frown deepened and I didn't care to give his words much thought. “There’s looking out for me and then there's being a massive prick, Matty.”

With a huffed breath of a laugh, Matty trailed his thumb down my jaw to skirt over the bottom edge of my lip. His eyes finally met mine. “He went about it the wrong way, but he’s been good for you, baby. Looked after you and Teds for years, got you through some hard times, and so for that I give him a little leeway.” 

My expression softened. 

Matty’s fingers pinched my chin as he coaxed me back up to meet his gaze.

“Do that for me?” He asked, and who was I to say no to an ask like that?

Instead of answering him though, I simply leaned in and kissed him sweetly, cradling his jaw in my hands so that I could thumb over the tops of his cheeks. I wondered, momentarily, where I’d gotten so lucky.

–

A kid in the studio had both its perks and disadvantages, Matty had soon come to see. 

Squeaks had been messaging Finn not long before he’d gone to set off, slowly pulling out some clean clothes from the ever growing pile he kept adding to each time he went round to her flat, whilst Teds completed his phonics, sat on the bed.

He’d kept calling out to Matty whenever he’d stumble onto the next, asking him to sound it out for him before trying to memorise it himself. Matty had enjoyed it- enjoyed all the time he spent with the little monster as a matter of fact- but helping him with the lessons he knew that Teddy would soon carry on further into his life… He didn’t know, it just settled something within him. Made him feel needed. 

He hadn’t ever felt much of that.

Anyway, Squeaks had come into the bedroom just as he’d been tugging on a jumper, one she had said she’d liked the last time he’d worn it, and mentioned that she had to get ready to drop Teddy off round Adi’s so that she could head on over to meet Finn. 

Matty had tried to keep his expression fairly neutral each time she mentioned the man. Because he hadn’t lied earlier when he’d asked for her to give her mate the benefit of the doubt. But it still irked him. The whole situation did, in truth. See because he knew that he was running on fucking borrowed time here with her. He’d never claimed to have been a lucky man either, so he knew that something was bound to happen sooner or later. He was merely praying that he’d be able to hold onto this small bubble of peace he’d found for himself for as long as he possibly could.

Teddy had appeared put out by the fact that he would have to head on over to Adi’s, who still lived with her elderly grandmother. All pouty and sweet looking, proper cute in actuality, and Matty had honestly gone and spoken before his mind had even had a chance to catch up with his massive mouth.

Mouse had been just as surprised by his offer to let Teds tag along with him down to the studio, spilling out claims that it would be fine with the guys (who’d yet to even meet the tyke) and that they weren’t actually working on anything too big that afternoon (just recording the ending of a session). And even though Matty hadn’t exactly asked the lot of them beforehand either, he figured it to be true enough.

And with the relief that had visibly fallen off of Squeaks at his reassurance, Matty hadn’t had it in himself to regret the offer. So with that, he’d set to helping her get Teddy ready for the day and then headed out the door.

Thing was though, the last time he’d ever gotten the tube with a little kid had been years before when his mum had visited with Lou. And back then she’d been the one to worry over his every move, not wanting to lose him in the crowd or have him swept under a carriage. Gruesome yeah, but it was a real fucking fear Matty realised. 

This time around it had been his turn though, and God, did he feel sorry for all the shit he’d given his poor mum throughout the years. Was this why parents looked so tired all the fucking time?

Teddy was good enough though, curious sure, always asking questions and pointing at everything, but he listened, held onto his hand and didn’t ever wander off. He’d enjoyed counting the stops on the train too and didn’t think much of the few stares they’d gotten on the platform and again when they’d sat down. 

By the time they’d made it to the studio, Matty had felt as though he’d just gone and ran a half marathon.

It was only when Teds had crowded into his trouser leg upon first walking through the entrance that he realised that this was just as new to Teddy as it was to him, and the fact that he was now being forced into an unknown setting probably didn’t make things much easier for the kid. 

Still, he had managed to perk up on the small tour Matty had given him. Wanting to ease his nerves before they ventured much further, it had just been the two of them wandering the halls aimlessly and simply nodding or smiling at the very few people who passed them by. 

It was only once Matty had figured it time to head into the room the band usually booked did Teddy quieten again.

“Where’ve you been? Only texted you like twenty times!” Matty heard George huff from around the short corner they were hidden behind after he’d called out to let them know that it was just him. 

Matty paused by the door to cast a glance down at Teddy, but the kid was already looking at everything the walls had to offer; the big plaques with the even bigger names, the posters and many album covers that dotted the dark paint. It was only when Matty crouched down to level with him did Teddy glance back.

“You alright, monster?” He asked quietly, wanting to give Teds a second to wrap his head around things. Matty noted that he was back to chewing on his lip again, eyes wide and unsure, but Teddy gripped onto the hand Matty silently offered him. 

After a moment, Teddy nodded at the question and Matty gave him a hopeful smile. “Good, ‘cause imma need you to kick this sorry lot into shape for me, alright? I mean, I know I’m good but they can’t just depend on me for everything, can they?”

He was gifted a quiet giggle, one which eased Matty’s mind a tad. 

“Matt!”

Matty rolled his eyes at the shout of his name then shook his head mockingly at Teddy, who seemed to have jumped a bit at the beckon. “Told you, didn’t I?” He tutted playfully to the boy, rolling his eyes too for added effect, “Fall apart if I’m not here.”

Teddy was back to smiling now, “Like mum.”

Matty laughed at the comparison, certain that Squeaks would say that she had a much harder job with the show than he did here in the booth. But Matty wasn’t too inclined to disagree, she worked far too hard in truth.

“Exactly, mate.” He replied anyway, then nodded in the direction of the many voices that were bouncing their way towards them, watching as Teddy peered round him once more, “You think you’re gonna be okay?”

Teddy blinked and then looked over towards him, it was in moments like these which Matty saw just how much he resembled his mum, he reckoned it was those big eyes of theirs that held so much emotion.

“Yeah.” The boy finally breathed out and so Matty squeezed his hand just once in support, before lumbering back to his feet. He stole a quick breath for himself and then started leading them both further inside.

George was stationed where he always was, by the decks, surrounded by laptops and many a monitor. Ross was sprawled out on the beanbag they’d lugged in on day three, fiddling with the bass he held in hand. Hann, however, had chosen to sit nearest to the door and so he was the only one to glance upon at their nearing footsteps.

Matty watched on as a flash of surprise flickered across his mate’s face. Brows rose and a slow blink was seen before Adam finally smiled, looking every inch the father Matty knew him to be. 

“Just who might you be then?” Hann greeted cheerfully whilst tucking his mobile back into his trouser pocket. He didn’t make a move to get up off the settee corner though, something which Matty felt immediately thankful for, it seemed neither of them wanted to crowd the kid just yet. 

It was with that greeting though that Ross’s head finally shot up and George turned to face them in his big fancy chair. The pair of them flicked both alarmed and shock filled gazes to Matty, who did his very best to ignore their all too familiar mugs.

“This is Teddy.” Matty acknowledged, crouching down once more so that Teds could lean further into his side whilst his wide eyes surveyed their way about the rest of the room. Matty wondered what it must’ve felt like for him, struggling to recall moments from his own childhood when his mum and dad had brought him along to their interviews to sit in the audience.

“Teddy love, these three doughnuts are my mates. You remember, the ones I’m in a band with?”

Matty let Teddy have a second, waiting quietly as the little boy dragged his gaze back towards him with parted lips, he blinked and then nodded, hands wringing the sleeve of Matty’s jumper.

Matty merely smiled, bringing the kid in closer to press a quick kiss to his head of hair. “Look, Teds. See that one there, with the funny face? That’s Hann.” He was delighted to hear Teddy’s soft laughter, however muted it was, even as Adam scolded him with an unimpressed glare. “Then in the corner there, that guy?” Teddy dipped his chin, eyes trained on the bearded bloke who was grinning away like a twat, “That’s Ross, he looks like a giant but cries when he’s hungry.”

“I do not!” Ross shot back scathingly, narrowed eyes pointed at Matty which only proved to fuel Teddy’s quiet chuckles.

“Yeah alright, MacDonald.” Matty ignored whatever else Ross attempted to say after that, rolling his eyes theatrically towards Teddy before he gestured over to where George was sitting in his chair, pushing those pretentious sunglasses he often wore up onto his shaved head. “And that one there, that’s G.”

Teddy leaned in close again to whisper in Matty’s ear, “Drums.”

Matty chuckled despite himself, loathing the fact that of course Teds would have remembered the drummer. Most did. “Yeah, mate. That’s him.”

George quirked a brow at the hushed conversation shared but said nothing on it, at least not then. Instead he just waved Teddy on over, “You want to come see? Got a ton of buttons you can press.” He added as though he was trying to entice the kid. 

Matty dampened the mirthful grin that crawled up onto his face when it seemed to work though, even as Teddy tugged him along by their joint pair of hands. 

By the time Matty finally got around to stepping into the booth to record a few verses a while later, Teddy felt comfortable enough to wait for him just outside the door with the three giant idiots he’d left him with.

–

A stalemate.

That was where we were currently sat.

Even with everything that had gone down, him starting this whole mess, I had been the one to go to him. To his loft where he worked most days when he wasn’t with clients, or visiting galleries. 

Finn had welcomed me in with his usual hello through the intercom, buzzing me up into the building and then meeting me just past the front door. He’d been kitted up when I’d entered, still in his apron and covered in paint, the latter of which he was trying to wash off when I first spotted him. 

He’d had the kettle already going and he smiled slightly after asking me how I’d been. I’d been truthful, said that I was doing good- all things considered.

There’d been an awkward pause at that, the two of us unsure on where we should then go with the encounter, but the kettle had whistled and on instinct I had turned to grab the mugs. 

He had nodded gratefully, but then gestured me over to where his colourful sofa sat by the large open bay windows, joining me with two steaming brews not a minute later. 

“How’s Teds?”

I licked at my lower lip at the question, peering into the still swirling mug. “Good, on Easter break soon enough.”

“What have they been working on then?” Finn asked next, because we both knew this was a safe topic, an easy starter. 

“Phonics at the moment,” I replied with a small smile that couldn’t quite be helped, recalling the way Teddy had puttered around after Matty this morning calling out each sound he’d needed to learn. “He sounds them out after breakfast most days and then again at night.” We shared a brief smile, before I mentioned, “Matty’s been helping too.”

Finn hummed. 

I pressed my lips together to keep from blurting out everything I wanted to say at the sound of it, attempting to stick to the plan I’d formed on my way over here. Letting Finn open up on his own, rather than come in all guns blazing.

“How is that going then?”

My brow pinched as I peered over at him from across the settee, “What, with Matty and I?”

Another hum, though this one was accompanied by a slight nod.

I was wary of how to answer Finn, especially after having learnt what the man truly thought about our whole relationship, but figured I should at least be honest.

“We’re happy.” I love him. “He’s good for me, I think.” It terrifies me. “He brings out a part of me that I haven’t seen much of since- I don’t know, maybe my first year of uni?” I let go of a breathy chuckle, picking at the wrinkled hem that sat at the knee of my jeans. “It’s been, really nice.”

When I chanced a glance back up, it was only to find Finn already looking back at me, his expression carefully set, almost as though he was trying to suss out any sort of lie in my answer. I waited a second and then he smiled. Nothing less than genuine, and I felt my whole body relax at the sight of it.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted.” Finn spoke softly, placing his cup down on a side table to slide on a tad bit closer. He rubbed at the back of his wrist before settling his hands in his lap, “I shouldn’t have gone about it the way I did, I just- You know I care so much, Mouse. And this is me in no way asking to be let off the hook or anything of the like, but, you have to remember I was there through it all.”

Frowning slightly at his words, I followed Finn’s prior motion, putting my own mug down so that I could pull a leg up under me, settling nearer. 

He let go of an exhale, “I was there when you found out about Teddy, I was there before that and then after. I saw the line of broken hearts you left in your wake, chasing this thrill you sought so hard to find, and all of the games you wanted to play.” 

He took my hand then and I just let him, thinking on his words, on how it must have seemed to someone else looking in from the outside. I knew I’d been a right mess after leaving home. 

In truth, I’d been a mess since the night of the accident, when my whole world had been flipped on its head, turning me into this scarred little kid. Leaving me not only alone, but wanting to chase after everything I felt I’d missed out on because of it the second that I’d gotten the chance. Which had meant finding friends and casual sex, bar hopping and clubbing for days on end, looking for the next best thing to simply entice or excite me.

Finn had been there.

He’d been there through most of it, if not it all. He had watched me jump from guy to guy, get my stomach pumped at the local A&E, not just once but three times. He’d been the one I had turned to in my lowest moments, when I’d felt dirtied, when I’d just wanted to cry, or to merely laugh. He was there.

I could understand what Matty had meant now. 

‘He looked after you and Teds for years, got you through some hard times, and so for that I give him a little leeway.’

“I can still picture your face, you know.” Finn murmured, stare fixed on the tight hold I now had on his hand. “That night you turned up at mine after finding out that you were pregnant. You looked a fucking state, soaking wet from the rain and wearing only your pjs.” We shared a light chuckle that echoed before drifting off. “It broke me, to see you like that.”

“I know.” I whispered in a rasp, emotions clinging to the back of my throat.

Finn only smiled sadly. “But it worked out. Enough that you seemed happy enough with what you had. And I know that Teddy will always be enough fro you, but you deserve so much. You deserve to live and to love, to have that family you’ve always dreamed of.” I went to protest but he just shook his head, “I know it’s what you want, Mouse. You don’t have to say anything for me to notice the looks you give other parents in the park, or the kids who meet their mums and dads in the school playground. I can see how much you want that, and not just for Teds. But for you too.”

I swallowed thickly, feeling all too seen suddenly.

Finn squeezed my hand, forcing me to meet his gaze once more. I hadn’t even realised I had shied away. “Does he do that? Does he give you that hope?”

The inside of my cheek had practically been bitten raw these last few days, but it didn’t stop me from chewing on it again as I looked over at Finn with a watery stare. “I think so.”

With a slow, albeit fond, tilt of his head, Finn hauled an arm over my shoulder to crowd me into his side. The two of us huddled in close on his artsy sofa that would look so out of place anywhere else.

I smiled at the thought.

“If he means that much to you, then I’ll make up for what I did. What I said.” Finn reassured me, his voice quiet in the large expanse of his loft. I hadn’t actually expected it to go this way. “But I do want to know. I want to make sure that he knows that he’s not just getting you out of this, that Teddy isn’t a deal breaker here. That he’s grown enough to understand the implications and repercussions of his life and whatever the fuck goes on with it. That he is clean-”

I opened my mouth, guard jumping right back up. But Finn just tucked my head under his chin, hand gripping at my shoulder enough to keep me there with him.

“Sobriety is hard. I understand that. When it finally comes to light that he actually is with you, that means Teddy too, and it’ll be a fucking mess. I want to make sure that he won’t fuck up and throw it all away the second shit gets hard.”

Inhaling, I could only nod. I knew what he meant, it was something I had thought about an awful lot. Too much in fact, I’d worried enough over it that I was still so wary over whether or not to broach the topic with Matty himself. But I hoped, for the first time in a long while.

And that had to be enough for now.

–

Finn’s had been an emotional affair, but not a place I’d lingered too long after our initial apology. We both still needed some time to process and to lick over our wounds.

I’d been more than thankful for it though, it had been a real weight off of my shoulders in truth, because knowing that there was a chance to move on past it without having to pick and choose, or divide my time, was something I hadn’t really held out hope for.

I was a pessimist at heart.

But that being said, I’d been quite optimistic about Teddy’s few hours spent with Matty- alone. Which should’ve been daunting in retrospect, insane even, and had probably once been, but Matty had quickly come to prove himself not only to me, but to Teddy too. So although I’d been cautious, I hadn’t necessarily been quick to stamp out the idea. 

The last little excursion the pair had been on without me had gone down a treat, with Teddy having been tuckered out and fast asleep the second he’d gotten into bed, and Matty having bonded further with him somehow.

Then there had been the whole ‘I love you’ mess.

And God, if anyone would’ve told me that I’d have been the one to say it first I would have laughed in their face. Cackled loudly enough to be heard three streets over and on the very urge of wetting myself. But then exactly that had happened.

The words had been lingering in the corners of my mind for a few weeks before last night. Tittering, almost. Having started popping up around Christmas time, with the unannounced gift giving ceremony we’d shared and the incredible bond Matty seemed to have formed with my son. And had then settled in not long after that demo I’d received and the midnight visit where Matty had turned up at my doorstep in a downpour. 

I hadn’t loved.

Not really.

I’d loved people, friends and family. Sure.

But someone to keep? Someone that I could call mine?

No, that had never really felt like much of an option for me. And Matty… he’d sort of come out of nowhere, hadn’t he? This mess of a man, but so very wonderful in his own way. He had really crept up on me, and looking back it almost felt as though it was bound to happen. Us, I meant. It felt strange to imagine it any differently.

Messages now

I’m here! Come get me, it’s freezing!!

It didn’t take long before his telltale pop of curls emerged from the main entrance to the same studio I had found him perched outside of during the aftermath of the big mishap with Finn. It almost felt like coming full circle with our decision to have me meet the pair of them here after just having talked with Finn.

Matty’s grin was infectious as we moved to meet one another in a quiet hello, his arms catching themselves around my middle whilst I buried my face into the curve of his shoulder. 

He was warm, that was my first thought even as he pressed a chaste kiss to my head, enough so that I didn’t mind the fact that he kept me tucked up under his arm as he pulled away to lead us back inside the building.

“You get here okay?” Matty asked me once the door had rattled shut behind us, his voice travelling in the sparse lobby like area I’d yet to get acquainted with.

Humming, I answered his question with a nod, “Yeah, walked most of it, Finn had a client call out of the blue.”

Matty’s cheeks hollowed a tad but he hummed too before tilting his head over to the right, we started to walk that way. “It go alright then?”

I let go of a heavy breath, eyes surveying every inch of the studio as we wandered further inside, “As well as it could have, I ’spose. It’ll take time, I reckon, though he wants to make it up to you, too.”

Matty appeared to blink at that, the words seemed to have caught him by surprise, but he didn’t falter in his wandering, leading me down a narrow walkway.

“Are you up for that?” I pushed.

He wet his lower lip in thought, dipping his head at a maintenance worker who passed us by before looking back at me. “Told you, I’d give him a little leeway. But I wanna know more about what you spoke about first. If that’s alright with you.”

I was nodding away before he could even tack that last bit on, “Of course, I wouldn’t think not to, in truth.”

I was gifted a sweet smile and quick peck to the cheek before Matty paused, his hand catching on the handle to a heavy door. Soundlessly we slipped past it, Matty closing it slowly behind us to stop it from banging against its hinges and alerting the rest of the room’s occupants to our sudden arrival. Not that it would’ve been all that easy a task, what with the noise that consumed you the second you entered.

Matty smirked at the look that must’ve crossed my face at the sound before he held a finger to his lips, signalling me to keep quiet. I rolled my eyes but took the hand he held out towards me, the two of us creeping over to the corner that gave way to the real chaos that greeted us beyond.

First thing I took notice of was the loudmouth four year old who had seemingly taken charge of the band’s rehearsal, a sight which had me biting my lip to muffle my sudden hysteria. 

George was seated by a stretched desk full of slides and buttons, elbows rested on the tops of his thighs whilst he listened animatedly to Teddy’s thoughts on whatever he had Ross and Hann tinkering about with. 

The latter two were just holding onto their instruments, Ross stood with his bass and nodding along to what strings Teddy pointed at, whilst Hann was told to ‘look happier’. Something Matty had immediately snorted at, endlessly amused by Adam being told to liven up by a kid who’d only been out of nappies for a little over a year and a half.

The snort seemed to catch George’s attention though because his head shot over at the sound, which in turn forced the rest of the room to follow.

I heard Teddy’s gasp before he came bounding over, wearing a pair of sunglasses that probably cost more than my monthly rent. 

“Alright, lovie?” I laughed, swiping up an excited Teddy before he could barrel straight into my legs. “You been having a good time?”

Teddy’s enthusiastic nod was enough to assure me of that but then Ross spoke up, “Should hope so, been hounding me to get this bassline right for ages, ain't you, mate?” He smiled at the giant grin he received in turn before nodding over towards me, “He’s got a proper good ear though. Should get him into it soon, especially if he likes it.”

Blinking, I could only look back down at Teddy, who was now informing Matty on everything he’d missed out on in the sparse moments he’d been gone in a tangent like ramble. 

George sniffed as he made to walk on over to us which forced me to glance up again. Hann had started to take off his guitar strap whilst Ross went back to fiddling with his strings once more. Seeingly wanting to get whatever he was working on down before he had to leave for the day.

“He’s a good kid.” George commented to me, watching on as Teddy reached out to be taken by Matty, the man not even second guessing the motion of catching the boy under his arms and settling him on his hip. “And Ross ain’t wrong either. He seemed to really enjoy himself, had him messing about with the console for a bit and Matty even got him to play a couple chords on the guitar for us.” He chuckled lowly, a soft sort of smile breaking up his typically stoic features.

“Hope he wasn’t too much for you guys, Matty reckoned you’d all be alright with him tagging along but I didn’t even think to double check.” I mentioned, eyes caught on the way Teddy was now so enthralled by the story he was telling both Matty and Hann, arms stretched out wide as he exaggerated something or other.

George was shaking his head when I glanced back at him, “It was nice. Having him here, but seeing Matt with him too.” George’s mouth thinned when he lifted a hand to tug on his ear, “I didn’t think he could be like that. It’s strange, him letting someone else hog the limelight whilst he’s sat on the outskirts.”

We both shared a fond chuckle, because I could see what he meant but also, “He’s taken to Teddy better than I expected, really. It’s something I’m most thankful for, as well as the fact that Teddy seems to really like him too.”

My smile was warm, I could tell, and when George caught a glimpse of it I got to watch him almost mimic the gesture, as though he was thankful for it all too.

“You’re good for him.”

My breath caught a little at that, but I kept on smiling as I peered over at Teddy and Matty who were giggling between themselves whilst Hann, and now Ross, had seemingly taken to shaking their heads at the pair in indulging amusement.

“He’s good for me.”

…

The walk home from the studio had been spent hand in hand. The three of us just padding along the narrowing pavement, Matty more often than not trailing alongside the curb so that we could keep it up.

Teddy seemed to enjoy it though, even more so when Matty and I had started up a game with him, lifting him up off his feet so that he could swing back and forth in midair for a few brief moments.

By the time we’d made it home we were all just content to find something to eat and curl up in front of the tele, me listening to Teddy tell me all about his day with Matty whilst Matty pulled my feet into his lap.

He put Teddy to bed not long after, upon the boy’s sleepy request, and had returned about fifteen minutes later, having read a story and bundled Teddy up under his duvet covers. It had been then that I’d gotten to tell Matty more about the conversation I’d had with Finn, rehashing his words and even delving a little deeper into my past with him.

“How long have you known him again?” Matty asked me, thumb trailing back and forth over the jut of my knee whilst the tv played on low.

“Only since the first year of uni.”

Matty appeared quite surprised by that, he said so too. “Seems like longer.” I grinned tiredly at his musings, eyes squinting with it as I leant further into his side.

“It does a lot of the time, but sometimes it doesn't. Wasn’t lucky enough to have been gifted a group of bandits and made to start a band.” I teased, not unkindly, appreciating the way his hand travelled up to run his fingers through my hair. I peered up at him, “They’re all so lovely, you know.”

He answered me with an airy titter, the sound soft enough not to echo out of the living room and down the hall to where Teddy slept, “You’ve never been on tour with them, sweetheart.”

I laughed then too. “Maybe, but Teddy likes them. And I like them too.”

“I’m glad.” Matty whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of my head. When he pulled away, I moved to capture his hand in my own. “You have anyone like that?”

I shook my head minutely, not wanting him to disturb his position, “No, wasn’t in school long enough to make any lasting friendships and then I guess when you reach a certain age it always feels a little harder.”

A quiet swept over us then and I took the time to simply admire the few tattoos Matty's forearms held; the passport number, the box, the postcode on his inner elbow.

“Was that because of what happened?”

His voice was cautious, which was unusual for Matty and more than likely the cause which had me peering up at him, rather than his ask that had gone and broken our peaceful bout of silence. 

My nose wrinkled, “What, with my scars?”

Matty gave a soft hum of assent, watching me from under a careful gaze, obviously anxious not to overstep or force my hand on the matter. I smiled at his care and gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Yeah, it shook me a lot. I mean, I spent weeks in hospital and then after that, I was on strict bed rest whilst at home.” I explained to him, fingertips trailing over the faint grooves in his palm. “I was homeschooled for a long time too and when I did finally go back, well most of my class didn’t much care for me beyond the horror story they’d been told. It grew old quickly enough though, but even so it was hard to connect with people beyond the basic level.”

Matty’s thumb had begun to trail over the skin of my wrist, settling once or twice on my pulse point before going back to stroking again. “What did happen? I mean, only if you’re alright with saying anything about it, I know sometimes shit can still be hard.”

I breathed out an airy chuckle, turning my head to hide my enamoured smile in the wrinkle of his jumper. “I don’t mind. I don’t like mentioning it with strangers much, which is why it’s not really public knowledge unless you go digging. But it was a car accident.”

I felt Matty tense beneath me but his touch didn’t stray, only became that bit bolder, the hand in my hair coaxing me to glance up at him so that he could kiss me sweetly, nose nudging at the curve of my cheek before withdrawing. I hummed happily.

“My dad was with the local police. High up, but a drinker. Only started though after this one case, and then it spiralled. My mam worked night shifts sometimes at the hospital, which was a good way away from where we lived, so it would just be him and me until she got home.” 

I took a breath, realising it had been quite sometime since I’d actually spoken about the crash, or even thought of it really. The scars were a constant reminder, yes, but the crash itself was something that had occurred almost two decades ago now, so I’d had time to sort of come to terms with it. As much as I could. 

Not to say that it still didn’t wear at me, it had been a big event in my life, changed things in more ways than one. Because it had also been the spark which had sent my dad packing.

“It’d been raining that night, I remember ‘cause the water had been leaking in from under the backdoor. My dad had sworn up a fucking storm when he’d noticed it but could only really stick a couple towels down, claiming that he’d fix it on his next day off.” 

A light chuckle escaped me at the vivid memory my mind made up, his tall figure, the odd phrasings he would use, but nothing of real substance. I couldn’t quite recall his face, or the depth of his voice, seeing as I hadn’t looked over old videos or photos we had since I’d visited mum back home.

“It had been a bad storm, had the tides reaching the cliff peaks if I remember rightly. Which meant that the hospital had started to flood, at least the north ward where mam had worked.” I continued, enjoying the delicate caress of Matty’s thumb as it trailed up my arm, “She’d been sent home after they’d managed to move most of the patients on the ground floor westward, but her car broke down about a mile out.”

I could hear the call even now, the sound of my dad’s heavy footsteps when he’d come to wrap me up in a coat, murmuring that we had to go and pick her up.

“The winds picked up, I guess. Dad didn’t have a car seat, that was what we used mam’s car for. So he just sat me in the front seat before setting off.” 

Matty’s touch faltered slightly, probably having suspected where I was headed with this before it picked up once again. “The rain was relentless and we weren’t too far from the shore so it almost felt as though it was just thick sludge falling from the sky. It was hard to see past the first metre or so.”

I swallowed, noting how the light from the tv screen stretched out across the floor and flickered each time a scene changed. 

“Our town wasn’t huge, but it was big enough to warrant a couple T-junctions and the odd roundabout. There was a fourway, just up past the old baptist church, a road mostly used for when you were coming off the main motorway or headed out towards the airport. Dad had been drinking, you could smell it on him some days, but at night it was always stronger. He blew through it, the traffic light teetering on amber before it finally turned red.”

Staring blankly out across the living room, I could almost picture it. The downpour which had clouded the windscreen, the old dash of my dad’s car, the familiar scent of his preferred brand of tobacco.

I licked at my lower lip, mouth suddenly dry. “A van had been crossing. On the passenger side.” I added quietly, appreciating the grip of Matty’s hand as I carried on, “All I really remember after that are headlights and the blare of a horn. Woke up a couple days later, having missed my seventh birthday and my dad nowhere to be seen.”

I huffed a small chuckle, reaching up to rub at my eyes before turning to face Matty. I wasn’t quite prepared for the wet gaze I’d been met with or the single tear that had seemingly escaped and come to a pause on the bridge of his upper lip.

I lifted a hand up to wipe it away, smiling when he kissed the pad of my thumb.

“You’re incredible, you know that.”

I’d been called many things, but I don’t think incredible was one of them.

I leaned in to kiss him, wanting nothing more than the feel of having him close, even if that meant tasting the salt of his tears or enduring that careful way he held my face. It was everything I had needed then.

–

After the little moment I had shared with Matty the previous night, I’d gone to bed feeling a little more drained that usual, but I’d put it down to the exhausting day I’d had and the fact that Matty’d had to head home so that he could do a skype interview early the next morning.

I’d almost been tempted to say that he could do it here in the flat, but with Teddy you could never tell when the kid would be coming or going, so it was safer for Matty to stick to his typical routine.

But I’d woken up all sniffly and foggy headed the next morning. The pounding at the base of my skull had forced me up out of bed in search of painkillers, as well as the fact that it had just gone ten, which meant that Teds was already up and mulling about.

I took a couple of nurofen I had tucked away in the medicine cupboard with a glass of water and figured I’d be better getting a move on with my day than heading back to bed. I knew that Matty would be popping round sooner or later too, so I attempted to sort through a load of washing that desperately needed to be done as well as tidy away the mess we’d created last night.

Teddy had helped himself to a banana from the fruit bowl at some point but was already asking for breakfast by the time I’d stuck the washing machine on- unaware of how close to crying I’d been after I’d gone and dropped a wad of detergent on the floor.

Even so, I’d set to start on a pot of porridge, knowing he would enjoy it with either some jam or spread, but I was surprised when I heard the front door rattle shut not long later, having not heard a knock nor Teddy answer it. I went to scold him, frowning at the fact that he thought he could just answer the door to anyone when Matty appeared with a few Tesco bags in hand.

“I knocked on the window, so he saw me before he let me in,” Matty was quick to rush out, grinning down at Teddy who had since spotted his breakfast and made a dive for it. “Figured I’d grab some stuff before stopping in, knew you mentioned feeling crap last night before I left so..”

He shrugged, moving over towards the kitchen before I could even think up a reply, a little bewildered by the fact that anyone would have the foresight, let alone the sincerity to do something like this for me.

“Matty.” I breathed out, so utterly warmed by the gesture as I followed after him, “You didn’t have to.”

Matty rolled his eyes at me, settling the bags down on the counter, “Shut up, you idiot. Just let me feel like an adult for once, yeah?”

I laughed, unable to help myself, even as he gestured for me to take a seat at the table, claiming I looked a little warm and confirming it when he pressed his hand to my rosy cheeks. 

“Do you ever stop?” He questioned around an exasperated smile, settling some basic cold medicines down as well as a few sweet treats. “Washing machine’s already going, the kid’s been fed, floor seems to have been swept too. How’ve you not dropped?”

I rolled my eyes at his ever growing eccentrics, though was still wearing a rather pleased smile. It was nice, I deemed, having someone look after me for once.

“I can’t stop, babe, got things to do, a tiny person to look after!”

Matty just shook his head at that, obviously not too happy with my retort, “Guess we’re just gonna have a lazy day then, yeah? Got snacks, popcorn even. Reckon Teds will enjoy it. I can even take him out to the park for a bit, just to let him run off some of that energy.”

I blinked at the maddening man stood before me. Wondering what I’d done to deserve all of the things he'd done for me. And without having even been asked.

“Haven’t you got stuff to do?” I queried, content to simply watch him unpack the shopping he’d bought.

Matty shrugged a single shoulder, wrapping up a carrier bag and tucking it into the stash I kept hidden beneath the sink. “Nothing important.”

“The interview went alright then?”

He hummed, putting a couple tins of soup away in a cupboard just above his head. “Yeah, fine. Hann did it with me, other guy was in Paris or some other, I think. Definitely French though.” His phone sounded then, but it seemed he’d left it in the pocket of his jacket which he’d gone and thrown over the back of a chair upon walking in. “Look at that for me, would you?” He asked, peering down at a carton of something or other, probably pondering over whether or not it went in the fridge.

I was only a little surprised by his request, but did so anyway, trying to find the phone in one of his many deep pockets. “Definitely French?” I prompted, smirking smugly over at him before my fingers finally found the device. “You sound so certain, Healy. Almost as though you’ve been taking notes on the French dialect, or something like it.”

Chuckling to himself, Matty flashed me a big smile from over his shoulder before turning away with a wink. “The French are fit, baby.”

I laughed lightly with a halfhearted shake of my head, then peered down at his phone, “Password?”

“0709.” He told me, and so with a slight pinch in odd wonderment I typed it in.

“Why that?” I couldn’t help but ask, only glancing up again when I heard the shuffle of his feet. I raised a single eyebrow. “What, is it like the death of your guinea pig or something?”

Matty’s face pitched itself into a hearty grimace that made me cackle. “My guinea pig? Who the fuck owns a guinea pig?” He shook his head at me, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort and instead said, “It’s the date we met.”

My eyes widened considerably. “Actually?”

With a light huff, he turned back to putting things away, “Thing gets lost or nicked more times than not, so I’m always changing my passwords. Figured I’d remember that one.”

“Matty!” I all but awed, honestly feeling the love. “You can be such a sap sometimes, you know that. The day we met!”

I received a glare in retort but I simply laughed at him before turning to look down at the message he’d just received. My forehead furrowed.

“You said you had nothing going on today!” I was quick to accuse, eyes flashing up to meet his somewhat startled face, “George’s party is tonight!”

Matty’s mouth formed a little ‘o’ before he merely shrugged, “G will get over it if I can’t make it. You need me here more, and besides, his birthday isn't even for a couple more days. They’re only throwin’ it tonight so that most people can make it.”

I looked heavenwards, hoping that the second pause would give me a little bit of strength. Did it fuck. “Matty, you’re not staying here with us when George, your best mate might I add, is out celebrating his birthday! He’ll want you there.”

“Squeaks, you’re sick. He’ll underst-”

I shook my head, “No, you’re going. I’ve got a little cold, nothing that’s gonna kill me. What will kill me though is you not going to be with G on his special day.”

Matty narrowed his eyes a tad, “Don’t guilt trip me.”

My next bout of laughter couldn’t be helped. “I’m not!”

With a scoff, Matty turned to put the carton he’d held in the side door of the fridge, shaking his head as though I was the one being outlandish. “It’s fine, alright?” He said once he’d spun back around, “I’d much prefer being here anyway.”

My head dropped to the side as I looked up at him, “Babe, please go. It would honestly mean a lot to me, but even more so to George. You know, who’s birthday it is. Go on. Please?”

Matty sighed and ended up dropping himself into the opposing chair, I slid his phone on over to him. “What about you though, and Teddy?” He asked and it was sweet, how much he cared. 

“We’ll be fine.” I assured him, reaching out to take his hand, “The party isn’t til later anyway, so how about we stick with your lazy day idea and then when you need to start heading out, I can just pop Teds in the bath and get him ready for bed.” When Matty still didn’t seem too keen on the idea, I squeezed his hand a tad and added, “You can even head back here after if you want.”

He perked up at that, but was still a little resistant to the whole idea of leaving.

“I promise we’ll be fine, love.”

And oh, did I wish that had been the truth.

[plantinghobbies]

if you're too shy, part 2 (office nerd!matty x reader fluff)

remember those gigs you and matty got scheduled to cover in part 1? yeah. this is them. enjoy <3

“hey.”

matty's curls bounce as he looks up at you quickly. a mild sense of guilt gnaws at your ribs when you realise you've spooked him, but it dissipates when he smiles, visibly relaxing when he realises it's you breaking him from his concentration. “oh, hi. you alright?”

you nod, gesturing to the vacant desk next to his. “am i ok to sit here?”

“yeah, of course. no need to ask. here, let me,” matty slides his notebook out of your way; as you lay your laptop down and sit, you can see him biting back a beam from the corner of your eye, and your heart flutters. “was there anything you needed, or…? not that there has to be, you know,” he sits up straight, apology settling itself on that gorgeous face of his. “i didn't mean it like that, i just meant-”

“no, i know, matty,” you smile softly. “there is, incidentally, but also i just wanted to sit next to you.”

there he goes with the blushing again - honestly, you reckon you could make a fortune if you bottled and sold the colour of matty's cheeks when you fluster him. although, you suppose, maybe the colour is only appealing because of whose face it's on.

said face is grinning at you again. “well, feel free, anytime.”

“likewise.”

“i'll take you up on that,” matty's smile gets impossibly wider, before he catches himself and controls it a little. “so, what is it that you need from me?”

the sloppiest kiss known to man. “advice, actually,” you put your glasses on, preening internally at the way matty's breath catches in his throat as you do, and open spotify on your laptop. “where should i start with this band we're going to see twice this weekend?”

matty's face brightens even more - impossible, you'd have thought. “oh. well, do you know any of their stuff already?”

you shake your head. “very bad of me as a music journo, but no,” you smile cheekily. “this is my first time. need you to talk me through it.”

the way matty coughs and tries to pass it off as him clearing his throat at your words is delicious. to be fair to him, he recovers quickly, the only sign of him being flustered the way his cheeks periodically twitch into a smile and back down again. “alright, so… i think i’d probably start with their second album - can i?” at your approval, he slides your laptop closer to him and scrolls down the band’s spotify profile to find the album in question. “their first is good, yeah, but the second one is where they really start to define their musical identity…” he trails off, covering his mouth. 

you blink in concern, leaning into him. “you okay, matty?”

“yeah, i just,” he sighs, then giggles into his hand. it’s maybe the best thing you’ve ever heard. “i realised i was starting to sound a bit like patrick bateman.”

“oh my god,” you snort, covering your own mouth as you laugh. “christ, you were. was this band’s early work too new-wave for your tastes and all?”

“little bit. i think their undisputed masterpiece is album two - literally a personal statement about the band itself,” matty smiles, then winces. “that was embarrassing.”

you shrug. “nah, i like that film. and not just because i think christian bale’s fit in it.”

“i was gonna go as him for halloween this year, actually,” matty says, nonchalantly scrolling through spotify again. “would that be weird?”

fuck. matty in a suit? potentially covered in blood? you have to readjust the way you’re sitting at the mere thought. so, naturally - “i think you should do it.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” you smile, matching matty’s. “i’d enjoy it, at least.”

“that’s all the convincing i need,” he smiles sweetly at you, then gestures to the laptop. “so, d’you wanna know a bit about their influences before you listen?”

“go on, then.”

“alright,” matty shuffles his chair closer to you; you sit up slightly straighter as goosebumps pass over your body, increasing tenfold when he looks directly into your eyes. from this close, his are warmer than you initially realised, and you have to work extremely hard to focus on what he's saying instead of drowning in them. “to be fair, you weren't totally far-off with the new-wave joke - their music is rooted in post-punk subculture, but more along the melodic, jangly-guitar, early eighties type. you know aztec camera, yeah? convinced i saw you wear a high land, hard rain shirt to work once.”

the butterflies nesting in your stomach flutter at his recollection. “yeah, that's right. same vibe as them?”

“kinda. similar to a lot of scottish and northern bands of that era. which is weird, considering they're all about thirty and from fucking newark.”

“i see,” you nod, smiling at the way matty's twirling one of his curls. “any springsteen influence, then? not to stereotype, but… eighties-inspired music by people from new jersey? seems like there could be connection.”

matty nods enthusiastically. “yeah, great question. i mean,” he puffs air through his lips quite adorably. “lyrically, yeah, and they have quite prominent sax parts in some of the songs that are quite e street band. but the inspiration seems to be mostly melodic post-punk. does that all make sense?”

you smile, leaning on your elbow. “yeah. you're very good at explaining things. i like that about you.”

“really?” matty blushes again. “sometimes i worry that i'm just talking shite, to be honest. i know i've got a tendency to ramble a bit, always have. it annoys people, i think.”

“not me. you're always talking about something interesting. makes me feel good to talk to you.”

he clutches his hands into sweater paws again, smiling. “same. you're a sweet one, i think. m'excited that we're working a bit closer now.”

“nobody else i'd do this with, matty,” you hold out your hand, and squeeze his when he lays it atop yours; a perfect fit, you note. “you're my favourite.”

he genuinely looks like he could cry, softly rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand and speaking even softer than that. “likewise, darling.”

for a second, you do nothing but beam at each other, still tentatively holding hands; it's only when your laptop pings with an incoming email that you break out of your reverie and apart. matty clears his throat. “would you like to know which order i recommend listening to the albums in?”

“please.”

he nods. “the second, then the most recent - which is the fifth, by the way. after that, i think i'd probably say… first, third, and fourth last. that one got a bit experimental, i doubt they'll play anything from it at either of the shows. d'you want me to just make a playlist of that order for you, while we're here?”

“oh, yes please,” you watch him do just that, a slight sense of longing settling itself in your bones when you think of a playlist so sorely him settled amidst all your favourite songs; actually, it gives you an idea. “i've got a final question for you, if that's okay, matty. well, technically two.”

“yeah?” he turns to look at you again, eyes disarmingly caring and focused on you.

“what's your absolute favourite song by the band? doesn't have to be the objectively best one, and you don't have to tell me why. m'just curious.”

matty smiles, the sun breaking through clouds. “that's easy,” he scrolls down the new playlist. “this one. that's my favourite.”

“alright,” you drag it to the top of the song list. “then that's the one i'll start with. and then i'll go onto the matty-approved listening order,” pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose, you turn to face him. “that sound alright?”

“mhmm,” matty nods vigorously again, wild hair bouncing all over the place; a curl falls over his eye, and he brushes it away before peering up at you through his enviously-long lashes. “meant what i said earlier, you know. i really do think you're incredibly sweet.”

“thank you,” you all but whisper, doing your best to cover your own blushing. “um - what was i saying?”

he smiles. “you had another question, i think?”

“right, yeah. um,” your throat goes dry with sudden nerves, and you try to swallow as inconspicuous as you can to make it better. twisting your fingers together, you look down at them as you speak. “i've still got a restaurant review to do this weekend, and i was wondering if you, like, wanted to go for dinner before saturday’s show? that italian, near camden road station? and you can say no, of course, no hard feelings, but,” you can feel your cheeks burning as you tentatively look up at him. “i'd just like to hang out with you a little bit longer this weekend. i like spending time with you.”

“oh,” matty breathes, blinking as if he can’t quite believe he isn’t dreaming - you hope that’s the reason, at least. he bites his lip, cheeks rosy as he looks up at you with a smile, and nods. “yeah, i’d love that. thank you.”

“thank you, for agreeing,” you exhale, nerves replaced by tingling excitement. “is half four too early? that would give us time to eat, and walk to the roundhouse before doors, yeah?”

“that works for me,” matty nods. he twirls his hair again. “d’you want to just meet at the restaurant? cos that’s the station i’d get off at, camden road. but i don’t mind meeting you off the tube, if you like.”

“no, no, it’s alright. i’ll just get you there - i’m not gonna make you brave the high street when you don’t need to,” you giggle. “especially on a saturday afternoon, christ.”

he huffs out a laugh, but his eyes are tender - so is his voice, when he replies. “alright. i’d do it for you, though, no complaints.”

you believe him. you aren’t sure if you’ve ever seen someone look so sweetly sincere, and it’s fucking your brain up. big-time.

still, you hold it together long enough to reply. “you’re cute, healy, even if i think you’re a bit mad for offering to walk through camden just to get me,” you giggle at the way his jaw drops at the compliment. “you can get me at angel on friday, though, if you fancy? makes sense, if you’re already walking down from highbury.”

“i’ll be there at six,” matty smiles. “i’m excited to hear what you think of the band, you know. i think you’ll like them.”

“well, if you do, then i’m sure i will. you’ve got good taste,” you gather up your laptop and stand, turning to matty with a flirty grin. “speaking of - i like that jumper. you look hot in red, matty. really hot. anyway,” you bite back a grin at the little gasp he lets out. “thanks for all your help, lovely.”

“anytime!” he calls after you when you turn to walk away, deliberately swinging your hips slightly more than usual - you’re convinced you hear a muffled “fuck” before he speaks properly. “and, um, thanks for, y’know, liking my jumper.”

you look over your shoulder and wink, happiness bubbling through your body when you notice matty shifting his gaze from your ass to your face so hastily it’s a wonder his neck didn’t snap. “friday at six, yeah? don’t be late.”

“i won’t!”

and he’s true to his word - when you come up the escalators at angel station at five minutes to six on friday, matty’s leaning against the wall opposite you. he grins, a big toothy eye-crinkling smile that has your heart doing backflips, and waves as you walk over to him. “hi! i like your jacket.”

“oh, thank you,” you self-consciously touch the fluffy collar. “have you been waiting long?”

“not really. ten minutes?”

“that’s not too bad. shall we?” you wander out into the chilly evening air, matty matching pace beside you. “you ever been to a show here before?”

“yeah. what a fucking weird venue,” matty steps closer to you to avoid being run over by a bike, and your heart flutters; you’re actually sad when he moves away. “i like it inside, but-”

“the fact it’s literally in the middle of a shopping centre is insane?”

“completely mental.”

“a really strange bit of urban planning,” you smile, turning to him as you wait at a set of traffic lights. “i listened to the playlist you made me, by the way. even learned some of the words.”

matty laughs. “you like them, then? that’s good. knew you would, though.”

you nod, fighting the urge to grab his hand as you cross the road. “played your favourite song about ten times on loop. i had no idea it was going to end up being a love song, by the way…”

“yeah, the title’s a bit misleading.”

“...but it really works. i can see why it’s your favourite,” you gently nudge your shoulder into his arm. “like i said the other day, you’ve got good taste.”

he looks down at the pavement, smiling, then at you. fuck, he’s so cute. “so do you, darling,” he says, voice so soft you can hardly hear it over the bustle around you. “i really like your outfit.”

the hour spent upending your entire wardrobe onto your bed to pick it out was absolutely worth it. “thank you. i figured, y’know, since i’m technically not working,” you smirk at him. “i’d make the effort for going out. tomorrow, though, when i’m on-shift? not a chance.”

“you’ll still look great, i reckon,” matty says, easy as breathing; ironically, the ease of his words practically stops your own breath. “and yeah, i s’pose you really aren’t working tonight. when was the last time you went to a gig just for fun?”

“it’s been a while,” you admit. “and i miss it, actually, getting to just experience new artists without having to analyse and critique them. that’s part of the reason i’m excited to be going tonight.”

“i get that,” matty nods as you turn into the venue entrance. “and what’s the other part?”

you grin. “the fact i’m going with you.”

once again, matty blushes. “if you keep throwing me off with compliments the whole night, i literally won’t get any work done. but thank you. m’glad you agreed to come with me tonight.”

“i’m glad you asked,” you turn to him once you join the line to get in. “and you’ll get your work done, don’t worry. i promise to be good.”

for the most part, you actually succeed at that, and it’s largely due to how bloody good the band are. for all the venue is in a weird place, it really is a decent one - it’s so intimate that even you, who only started listening to the artists onstage this week, feel like a proper part of it. and, free of note-taking responsibilities, you can allow yourself to be made giddy by the coloured lights and loud melodies, to dance as best you can on the sticky floor, to sing along to the scraps of lyrics you recognise and join in the backing vocals with the rest of the crowd. that was always your favourite part of a concert, the moments where hundreds of voices just worked as one, identities dropping and merging to prioritise the music; it’s nice to be in it, for once, rather than doing your best to observe and capture and convey it in words. you leave that to matty, and mostly leave him be aside from the odd smile and laugh, always responded to warmly by him.

that is, until they play his favourite song, and the boy beside you becomes impossible to ignore.

the singer says something about this being the last song of the night, before beginning the now-familiar melody on his guitar. matty’s head snaps up at the first few notes, and his notebook snaps shut; you turn to him at the noise, smiling at the excitement on his face, even more radiant than usual under the pink lighting. he looks at you with a matching smile, curls bouncing as he nods along to the music, before turning back rapt towards the stage. you follow suit, soaking up the lyrics about wanting and yearning and falling fast for someone - hearing those words with that person beside you sends goosebumps shooting across your skin and sparks through your nervous system, the same kind of kinetic energy crackling in the space between you and matty. it’s so strong you have to uncross your arms, stretching your fingers out by your side. mortifyingly, they brush against the back of matty’s hand, and the sparks become shockwaves; not so much born out of fear, but of the same kind of longing the singer is musing about. he doesn’t seem to mind the contact, hand staying put despite it, and something in your brain just says fuck it and snaps.

tentatively, more so than you think you’ve ever been before, you loop your fingers around matty’s, and you hold his hand. and, quite honestly, nothing has ever felt quite so right as this. the shockwaves in your nervous system fade to a gentle hum, kinda like the reverb from the speakers, with only a tiny jolt when matty gently squeezes your hand in response.that’s how you stay for the rest of the song, hand-in-hand facing the stage, both of you - unbeknownst to the other - smiling contentedly and mouthing the lyrics to the song you relate to.

it lasts a sickeningly short amount of time, though - as soon as the song ends, you and matty are all but pulled apart by a group of kids running towards the stage, shouting about setlists and drumsticks and god knows what else. matty chuckles, walking backwards towards the exit so he can talk to you. "that was good.”

“yeah,” you agree, although you’re not sure what he’s specifically referring to. “liked it a lot.”

“me too.”

there’s comfortable silence as you weave your way out of the venue and onto the street. you turn to say a reluctant goodbye to matty, but he beats you to it. “i’ll walk you to the station.”

“are you sure? you’ve got a bit of a walk in the other direction, matty.”

he shrugs. “it’s a nice night. i don’t mind.”

“cool,” you do your best to keep from smiling at the thought of an extra five minutes with him. “thank you.”

“s'alright,” matty smiles, leading the way down the street. “i've had a lot of fun tonight.”

“yeah, same here. they're really good!”

“aren't they? i'm excited to see their set tomorrow, see how it compares,” he hums happily. “i think this is gonna turn out to be a really good article, you know.”

“so do i,” you beam at him. “and i must say, i'm enjoying the process for this one much more than i have in a while.”

he giggles, and you have to fight the urge to hold his hand again. “well, if you think about it,” matty rubs his thumb over his bottom lip quite attractively. “it makes a lot more sense for us to do gig reviews together. music is something to be shared, after all, and live music especially, and so are our reviews - we probably get a better sense of it all if we're not by ourselves, don't you think?”

you don't even bother trying to hide how enamoured you are when you look at him. “i love the way your brain works, matty.”

“oh, shush,” he clutches the sleeves of his jacket over his hands, but beams anyway; it drops from his face when he notices the tube station sign up ahead. “well, i suppose this is where i leave you.”

the melancholia in his voice makes your heart sink. “yeah, i guess,” you sigh. “but not for long, though.”

“true,” matty's face brightens, and he reaches to take your hand and squeeze it gently. “thanks for coming, darling. i had a lot of fun.”

“thank you for having me,” you squeeze his hand in return, smiling at the way he looks down at your connected fingers in wonder. “text me when you get home?”

“of course. you too, please.”

“i will,” you let go of matty, pausing before you turn to walk away; quicker than your brain can convince you otherwise, you lean up to press a kiss to his soft cheek, before winking at his dazed expression and turning towards the station. “see you tomorrow, lovely.”

“bye,” comes the soft, delayed reply. you turn back to wave once you reach the escalator, then smile giddily to yourself the whole way home.

in fact, you don't think you stop smiling giddily for the rest of the night, or the next day; just the knowledge that you're going to see matty again keeps you in a state of sunniness, has you dancing around the flat and serenading your dog, who just looks at you like you're insane. a tiny part of your brain agrees with her, but how can you be expected to help it? you haven't been this excited to go on a date with someone in a long, long time.

well, it's not a date, officially. but walking into a dimly-lit italian restaurant with matty in tow, him taking your jacket and pulling your chair out for you like a perfect gentleman? it fucking feels like it. you wish it was.

even more so when he takes his own jacket off, revealing A) a short-sleeved shirt in the same colour of red you told him he looked hot in the other day, worn slightly open over a white tank; B) almost-unbelievably muscular arms; C) tattoos littered up said arms, and one on his chest just peeking out suggestively.

jesus fucking christ.

you can’t help but stare at matty, mouth agape, as he sits down. he giggles nervously when he notices. “what?”

the words leave your mouth before you can even think about stopping them. “matty… do you know how hot you are?”

he does the adorable blinking thing again. “you think i’m hot? me?”

“um, yeah, i have eyes,” you giggle, cheeks burning. keep it together, you stupid slut. “i didn’t know you had all those tattoos, actually. why don’t you show them off more?”

matty shrugs. “sometimes, people think if you have lots of tattoos, you’re like, i don’t know… scary, or unapproachable,” he opens the drinks menu. “that’s not the impression i wanna give off, you know? especially at work. like, you know me, i’m quite soft and quiet. i just think the tattoos look sick.”

god, you want to eat him alive.

“i understand,” you nod, leaning on your elbows. “and i also think they look sick. kinda sexy, i’d say, to be honest. anyway,” you bite back a smirk at matty’s flustered expression. “what sort of drink are you in the mood for?”

“oh, well… i don’t know, actually,” matty scans the menu, then meets your eyes. “i’m new to this sort of reviewing. what do you usually do first? talk me through it,” he must mistake your wide eyes after his last statement for horror, instead of slight arousal. “please.”

“okay. can i see the menu, please? right, fab, thanks,” you hold it open so you can both see the drinks list. “shit, this is extensive… reasonably priced, would you say?”

“for this part of london? yeah.”

“i agree. right,” you look at him, and the concentration with which he looks back almost throws you off. “because we haven’t picked out food and don’t know about flavour palettes yet, i’d avoid wine for the time being. anything too flavoured, actually - i reckon our best bets are either some sort of fairly neutral cocktail, or a spirit and clear mixer. you know, vodka soda, a g&t, that kind of thing.”

matty nods. “makes sense.”

“yeah. the exception to all of that, in my opinion, is champagne,” you smile. “but if i start drinking it, i won’t want to stop, and if i kick the arse out of this meal on the work credit card then marianne will kick mine, so…”

he laughs, and the warmth of it goes straight to your stomach. “classy girl,” he smiles, laughing even harder when you make a face. “well, i think you are. and,” he points at the menu. “i also think we should have negronis.”

“nice. alright, let’s move on to food,” you open another menu. “oh, thank god we came here so early - this decision might take me a while. sorry.”

matty smiles, the tenderness in his eyes only exacerbated by the flickering candlelight. “that’s alright, darling. we’ll take all the time you need. well,” he winces. “maybe keep it within the two and a half hours we’ve got until we need to leave for the gig. although i s’pose we could stay here another fifteen minutes if we got a taxi.”

you wave insouciantly. “we’ll be on time. and you’ll have fun, too. promise.”

“oh, i don’t doubt that.”

and you really do have fun, despite having to constantly remind yourself that you’re not on a date and are in fact at work. the two negronis you each have over the course of the meal continue to coax matty out of his shell - and thus, get you to fall even harder for him than you already have, which to be honest you didn’t think was possible after seeing his tattoos - to the point where he’s affectionately taking the piss out of you for stealing forkfuls of his dinner “for journalistic purposes”. but, all in all, he’s completely fascinated by the process of forming your review, taking interest in the subtleties of what makes somewhere good versus great, and marvelling at the breadth of your culinary knowledge (which you’re actually very proud of, being self-taught and all); he’s still raving about it as you walk - with plenty of time to spare, mind you - along chalk farm road towards the roundhouse. “i actually don’t know what i’m more impressed with, you or the food. genuinely. you’re incredible. and to think i was going to make you soup!”

you frown. “past tense? why?”

“you know too much about food. i won’t be able to impress you.”

“matty,” you turn to look at him, wide-eyed and crestfallen. “that’s not true at all!”

he scoffs, but not harshly. “come on, babe,” the nickname does something funny to your stomach. “i’m not upset about it, just thinking realistically. how is my nana’s carrot and coriander recipe gonna stack up against michelin-starred minestrone, or whatever? not at all, that’s how. and that’s alright!”

“matty. matty - alright, fine,” you clear your throat, stopping and standing with your hands on your hips. “matthew. listen to me, and listen good, yeah? right,” when he nods, blinking those pretty eyes, you continue. “soup is a whole different thing - in fact, all domestic cooking is, especially if you’re making something for someone you care about. i don’t want to be impressed by the technique, i want to be nourished. cared for. dare i say, healed. and, in that regard, i have no doubt that your nana’s recipe would fucking decimate any posh restaurant soup. alright?”

he nods, shyly peeking through his eyelashes. “alright.”

“thank you.”

the walk continues, silent for a few minutes until matty talks again. “you know,” he says, smile audible in his voice. “i didn’t think i’d find being lectured about soup sexy. and yet…”

“oh my god, stop it,” you giggle, although you’re simultaneously fighting the urge to skip along the path and secretly filing that piece of matty information away in your mind. just in case. “thanks, though.”

he shrugs, smirking. you’re into it. “just telling the truth. it’s my job, after all.”

“and here i thought you were flirting with me,” you smirk back. “shame,” you wink, speeding up slightly towards the venue; you drop into serious mode when you see several different door queues. “shit. where do we go, with the press passes?”

matty hums, looking around. suddenly, he takes your hand, gently leading you to a side door; you’re quite content with this, a sort-of fuzzy feeling overcoming you, so much so that you barely register him talking. “here we are. you ready, darling?”

you nod happily at him. “round two. let’s go.”

the night, at first, progresses a lot like the previous one - you spend the opening set dancing, singing along to the songs you know pretty well by now, leaning in to talk to matty about any discrepancies you see in performance between both nights while he diligently takes notes. when they close with his favourite song, again, you’re slightly dismayed that he continues to write, and you can’t repeat the hand-holding; pretty much as soon as you’ve thought that, though, matty leans into you to rest his head on yours and sing along to the lyrics, and the room seems to get brighter. out of both desire and necessity (you know how clumsy he is), you wrap an arm around matty’s waist, and you swear you can hear him smile. it’s warm, sweet, intimate without being weird, and you really don’t want to let go of him. ever.

eventually, once the song ends and the house lights come up in the break between sets, you do, pulling your notebook from your jacket pocket with a sigh. matty straightens up, stretches with a groan that should not be as attractive as it was to you, and smiles. “pasta tiredness hitting you too?”

“little bit,” you wince. “maybe dinner then dancing was a bad idea.”

he shakes his head. “nah. it’s been fun. i’ve really enjoyed it.”

“i’m glad to hear that,” you smile at him. “wouldn’t mind making a habit of it, actually.”

“really?” matty beams. “neither would i. maybe we can pitch it to marianne as an actual segment. like, restaurant pairings with gigs, potentially highlight local places near the venues we go to. yeah?”

it’s a fucking great idea. he goes all bashful when you tell him as much. “cool. we can maybe see her about it on monday, if she’s in.”

you nod. “of course. come and find me on monday morning, and we can come up with a proper pitch while we get this piece done, alright?”

“‘course,” matty nods, smiling when the lights drop and the audience scream. “right, i’ll leave you to your notes.”

“cheers,” you reply, reluctantly turning towards the stage. it isn’t that the gig is bad, at all - as you wrote in your notes, the band are talented, charismatic, well-rehearsed. it’s just extremely difficult to focus on them and your notebook when you have the boy of your dreams beside you, close enough to touch and kiss and dance with, singing along happily and doing a dorky little two-step that makes his hair bounce quite beautifully. every so often, the urge to turn and smile at him becomes too much to resist, and matty goes visibly - adorably - pink under the stark white lighting every single time he makes eye contact with you.

by the time the gig ends, you’re dead certain: you are down so incredibly deeply bad for matty healy, and you need to tell him as soon as possible.

as it turns out, the opportunity for that happens extremely quickly once you’re both out of the venue, talking and laughing and dissecting the show even further than you did in your respective notebooks as you leave, and it’s so romance-media smooth that you genuinely think a higher power might be involved. perhaps an apology from the universe by having a group of teenagers push you and matty apart at yesterday’s gig, this time a group of them push you closer together, bolting past you and screaming about catching the bus home - matty tugs you into him to stop you being completely bowled over, and turns so the two of you are right next to the building instead of in the firing line out in the open. his hands are warm against your waist and lower back, and so is his neck under your clasped hands; you have no recollection of putting them there, but you sure as shit aren’t going to move them anytime soon. if you did that, you’d further the distance between you, and why on earth would you want to do that, when you’re so close you can’t tell whose breath cloud is whose and the little flecks of gold in his dark eyes are visible to you for the first time?

no. you’ll stay as you are, thank you very much.

“you know that thing we were going to pitch to marianne at work on monday?” you whisper, heart pounding as you notice matty’s eyes flick to your lips. “the thing we want to make a habit of?”

“yeah,” matty breathes, the words so close to your lips you can practically taste them. “what about it?”

your lips part, and you take a shaky breath before you reply. “well, the thing is,” you bite your lip, and his pupils dilate. “i don’t think i want it to be a work thing, matty.”

a beat passes before he responds. “neither do i.”

thank fuck.

your eyes close in contentment. “matty?”

“yeah, darling?”

you reopen them, looking up at him - for the probably millionth time in two days, you don’t bother trying to hide the feeling in your gaze. “kiss me.”

that gorgeous face above yours cracks into a smile. “alright.”

and he does.

it’s exactly how you imagined he would be - a little bit sloppy, tentative with tongue, but so eager and giggly and just so caring that it doesn’t matter. on instinct, your hand roots itself in matty’s curls, and the little whine he lets out is probably enough to fuel your bedtime fantasies for a fortnight by itself. you smile into him, tracing your tongue around his lips before sucking on the bottom one and releasing it slowly. your head is spinning, from matty more than lack of oxygen, and you honestly don’t think you’ve ever been happier post-kiss in your life.

there’s a happy silence for a minute, save the two of you gasping for breath, broken by matty kissing you quickly again and grinning. “hi. and, also, wow.”

“indeed,” you beam up at him, gently twisting those pretty curls around your fingers. “you might’ve figured it out by now, but… i like you, in a more-than-platonic sense.”

“the kiss gave it away, yeah,” he giggles breathily. “i take it there’s no policy at work about making out with your colleagues? or, y’know, taking them out on actual, unrelated-to-work dates?”

“no such thing.”

matty smiles, pulling you in for another kiss. “well, thank christ for that.”

[plantinghobbies]

and they say, "she's so lucky."

Everybody knows Brittany Jackson. She's been famous practically her entire life, gifted with the voice of an angel. Nobody knows Matty Healy, the small-town boy whose penchant for music never took him anywhere, despite his semi-famous parents.

An At Their Very Best role reversal.

Part of the "I Love You In Every Universe" series.

COMING SOON.

"Healy!" 

He sucks in the last of his cigarette, nodding at the lone PA that's holding the door open and waiting for him to come back inside. Throwing the stick on the ground and crushing it with the toe of his boot, he exhales through his nose and heads inside the stadium again. Their steps echo through the maze of concrete hallways, his lanyard jingling around his neck as he moves towards the stage, nodding at the various crew members he passes. Grabbing his guitar from the stand, he moves over to the rest of the band, swinging the strap over his head quickly and bracing himself for the rest of the day. 

She was the reason for his being in America for the last month, thrown into the deep end of one of the largest, most ambitious tours of the last decade. He participated in brutal rehearsals that extended into all hours of the night, worked early mornings with the sound techs, trying to perfect the show as best as he knows how, all for one girl who rarely graced them with her presence. She was the all-American (Australian) dream. The one, the only... 

Brittany fucking Jackson. 

She’d been a household name since she was old enough to be put in front of a camera—a child star turned bona fide pop star. She was gifted with the voice of an angel and the Midas touch, everything turning to gold once her name was attached to it. A former Disney darling, she’d grown up in the spotlight before moving onto rom-com films and major blockbusters, captivating audiences with cameos in the Marvel Universe and blowing critics away with her versatility. She’d made guest appearances on award-winning shows all while touring constantly, with a new album released every two years like clockwork. 

The shine seems to be fading as time goes on. Her last record hadn’t performed well; the lead single barely cracked the top 40, and the album fared even worse, not charting at all. When the reviews poured in, there were shared musings on the lack of originality, the departure of something deeper within the Brittany Jackson brand that signified she was growing alongside the audience that had followed her since she was a child. Then there was the string of controversies that seemed to trail behind her... 

When her name was ushered, they didn’t talk about the voice that was so powerful it rendered you speechless anymore; they spoke about the photographs of her in seedy Los Angeles back rooms, wiping at her nose, or the videos of her shoving paparazzi in violent outbursts, smashing cameras on the ground like some kind of arrogant rock star. She was a complete cliché, the child star who went off the rails because their fifteen minutes of fame were fading, the money running dry, and the sharks were beginning to circle because they smelled blood in the water. 

After he had hopped on a plane, leaving the band he’d been in with his best mates since he was a kid and his entire family behind, he wondered for the first time if any of the stories were true. Then, on his first day, they were more than confirmed. She was completely unappreciative of everyone bending over backwards to please her every whim, she was spoiled, demanding and whenever she bothered to fucking show up, completely anal about every little thing. 

She wasn’t present for his “audition” to be the lead guitarist for her tour (it was more of a formality considering his best friend knew her manager, old school friends, and he was practically guaranteed the job). He never bothered asking why they picked him; the role wasn’t exactly easy to fill after her last band member went straight TMZ after being fired and told them anything and everything they wanted to hear. The press had a field day for weeks after the tell-all story hit their website, and the flames threatening to burn down the Brittany Jackson empire grew higher. 

When she finally attended one of their rehearsals for the first time, she never bothered introducing herself, just stood in front of them with her arms crossed over chest, her hip jutted to the side while waiting for them to start. She never speaks to anyone directly, referring all her comments to their band leader quietly with their backs turned. It was fucking demeaning, and he wasn’t exactly wanting to be her friend, because he wasn’t sure he could find a way to relate to being a self-centered brat, but he was stunned at how detached she was. He participated in more meetings or practices for the band he’d been in with his schoolmates than what she did for the tour that was meant to revive her reputation. The resentment that inks its way into his veins makes him hate her a little bit. 

Sighing, he looks at the time on his phone and of course that’s when the girl of the hour waltzes in, her mother following behind her, all pointy features and bleach blonde hair. The older woman sneers at him down her nose and he puts the device back into his pocket, stands and gets ready to play. It’s hard to miss the irony that is her daughter being over an hour late to one of their final rehearsals, but he’s the one getting glared at. 

Anne walks briskly onto the floor of the arena, directly to the stage manager and everyone braces themselves for the next lot of ridiculous notes that were bound to come their way. Brittany’s mother had been a nightmare and the cause of so many problems. She’d stop the performance if costumes weren’t right, would pull her daughter from the stage and nitpick about her hair. She’d shout across the venue while her daughter played piano, pointing out the way her stomach rolled whenever she reached across the keyboard. 

Brittany Jackson certainly was her mother's daughter. 

[plantinghobbies]

hot to go! - matty healy

order up, i'm hot to go!

working as a waitress at a diner could be quite a drag, at least it was until you started getting a certain curly haired regular who was determined to break down your 'hard to get' act each week through flirtatious banter and dirty jokes that had your cheeks flushed pink. but who were you to complain when he tipped so well and was so nice to look at? (diner!au <3)

inspired by HOT TO GO! by chappell roan <3

minors do not interact!

tags: 18+, matty is so unbelievably cheeky and flirty in this, like it's kind of insane, slow burn (in terms of anything physical), two idiots falling in love one chocolate milkshake at a time, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, praise, overstimulation, cum play if you squint

26719 words

“Order up!” You heard from behind you as you poured a cup of coffee into a mug, the sound of a bell dinging shortly after. You huffed, setting the coffee pot back down into its home, gripping the hot mug between your fingers as you turned to grab the hot plate off of the serving window, one of the cooks smiling through the empty space at you as you slid the plate off of the silver metal hatch. “That was quick.”

You rolled your eyes playfully at the cook, Nick, huffing as you shook your head softly. You were turning on your heels before he could tease you any further, zig zagging through the other servers behind the counter, dropping off the mug filled with coffee to the older gentleman sitting at the very end of the counter in the last barstool before turning the corner and making your way to a table that sat a couple. 

“Sorry about the wait, they were cooking more onion rings back there.” You apologized with a small smile, sliding the plate of food over to the man who had been waiting to receive his plate, the woman across from him having already had hers for a few minutes now. They both were quick to assure you that it was fine, thanking you. “Is there anything else I can get for you guys?”

You nodded kindly when they declined your offer, turning on your heels to check on the booth behind the couple, cleaning up their empty plates and accepting the cash tip with a smile. You balanced the empty plates on the palm of your hand as you made your way back up to the counter, handing them off to the bus boy - Johnny, before leaning back against the counter and crossing one of your heels over the other. 

Wednesdays were prone to dragging by, always the slowest day of the week, constantly checking the time on the clock that hung on the wall surrounded by old highway signs and coca cola advertisements. There just wasn’t enough customers to keep yourself busy, causing the minutes to drag by like hours and have you resisting the urge to pull your hair out as you listened to the same twenty songs playing out of the digital jukebox on a constant loop - normally the chatter in the diner drowned out the sound of the playlist your boss, Tony, refused to stray away from. But with the few people scattered around the diner, it was hard not to focus on the sound of Elvis Presley singing Jailhouse Rock for what felt like the millionth time since you clocked in this afternoon. 

You were staring down at your manicured nails when Ruth, who was arguably your favorite coworker here, slid into the open space next to you and knocked her shoulder against your own to draw your attention up to her - tilting her head to the side. 

“Who is that?” You felt your eyebrows scrunch together ever so softly, eyes sliding over in the direction that Ruth had tilted her head in and landing on a boy you were positive that you had never seen around here before, sure that you would remember someone like him. 

The stranger looked like he just walked straight out of Grease with the way his curly hair was ever so slightly pushed back, ringlets of curls falling over his forehead as he stared down at the menu on the table before him - dark eyes scanning over the various options, you could see his eyebrow twitching in distress from all the way across the diner.

Even though you were sure you had never seen him around before, you couldn’t help but think that he looked as though he belonged there. Sitting in the red booth with a leather jacket covering arms that you would bet money on being covered in tattoos, your eyes scanned over his frame unashamed, only because he had no clue your eyes were on him - taking in the sight of the remainder off his outfit, all black and dangerous, almost as if the universe was sending you warning signs before you could even approach him. 

You watched as he chewed on the inside of his cheek as he continued to flip through the menu of the diner, clearly growing more frustrated as he turned over page after page, running a hand through his hair in aggravation and - oh, did you like the sight of that. His fingers passing through his dark, slightly damp hair, you could only assume it must have been raining outside - the stray droplets on the leather of his jacket confirmed your suspicions. Long, thick, rough fingers that would feel so good running along the expanse of your body, down to the inside of your thighs and sliding inside -

You cleared your throat, forcing away the thoughts in your mind with it, straightening your back against the counter and smirking. “Dibs.”

“Hey!” Ruth gasped, shaking her head when you just winked at her in return as you tighten your ponytail, smoothing out the skirt of your uniform before sauntering over to the mysterious man who was already the most exciting part of your day.

Your converse covered feet clicked against the black and white checkered tile of the diner, your heart rate picking up in pace and face heating the closer you got to the stranger, quickly realizing that he was impossibly more attractive up close. He could feel your presence next to the booth, glancing up at you with eyes that slightly widened and immediately brightened when they landed on you.

You held back a snort when his dark brown eyes scanned over your frame, one of his thick eyebrows raised ever so slightly as he drank in the sight of your bare legs - men. 

You bit back a smile, clearing your throat before you introduce yourself, his dark eyes back on your face, hanging onto your every word and causing you to stumble a couple of times through the practiced spiel you spoke to every single customer that came through the diner - embarrassed that he already had this much of an affect on you. The boy with curly hair nodded softly when you told him your name, seeming as though he was in a daze as his dark eyes strayed from your face once more to drag down the expanse of your body as if he was trying to memorize every freckle and curve. 

It was only when you shifted your weight between your feet, the heat of his stare becoming too much for you to handle, did the mysterious boy clear his throat and find his voice to speak to you. “Hi, Mat-” His voice cracking, high in pitch. Clearing his throat once more, a twinge of pink spreading along his cheekbones, the sight of him flustered by your presence was impossibly endearing - the blush creeping up his neck making him even more attractive and even more difficult to focus on the task at hand. His voice was now much deeper as he opened his mouth to try again. “Hi, I’m Matty.”

You smiled softly, running your eyes along his face unashamed, thinking that the name suited him. “Hi, Matty.” 

The boy, Matty, shifted against the red leather of the booth while clearing his throat once more. “Hi.”

The two of you stared at one another for a beat, holding eye contact until you couldn’t take it anymore, breaking away from it while fighting a smile off of your face. You shook your head softly as you pulled your notepad from the apron tied around your waist, tilting your head to the side slightly as you glanced over the top of the paper at him, only to see his dark eyes still staring at you - the both of you breaking into a fit of soft laughter at catching the other. You shook your head more intensely this time, shaking the nerves as you took a deep breath to calm down the pounding of your heart, bringing the pen up to the notepad and ready to actually do your job. “You ready to order?”

Matty inhaled a breath so deep that it puffed his cheeks out, exhaling it in a tight laugh as he tossed down the menu that he had been holding in his hand. “Can I be honest?” Matty brought his long, distracting fingers to the back of his head to scratch his neck. “I have no fucking clue.”

You couldn't help the giggle that tumbled from your lips, your shoulders shaking and your head following suit. “In your defense, it is a really big menu.”

“Oh, it’s massive.” Matty agreed through a laugh of his own, nodding in agreement. “I don’t know how you remember it all.”

“I don’t know.” You shrugged, tilting your head to the side and giving an overly bright smile. “Must be this big brain of mine.”

“Oh,” Matty nodded, a smile spreading steady over his face as he leaned back in the booth, tossing a leather jacket covered arm over the back of it. “She’s got beauty and brains, I see.”

You cursed the red that tainted your cheeks, turning your head into your shoulder to try and hide it from the boy staring up at you but you knew he had already noticed the effect his bold words had on you if the look he was giving you told you anything. You shook your head, staring down at the frilly socks that peaked out over the top of your high top converse. Matty took pity on you, clearing his throat once more to ease the tension he had created. “What do you recommend?”

Normally when first time customers asked you this question, you wanted to rip your hair out, why couldn't they just pick something off of the menu and go about their day? But now that Matty was curious, you found yourself desperate to think of something that he would love, eager to please and impress him. “Uhm.” You swallowed thickly as he stared up at you expectantly. “A burger, maybe? You can’t go wrong with a good classic, right?”

“Alright.” Matty nodded, taking your suggestion without any form of argument, sliding the menu across the table and closer to you - the laminated edges brushing against your thigh in the process. “Throw me in a chocolate milkshake too, will you, darling?”

You had just gotten your cheeks back to normal only for him to have the blood rushing back to them at the nickname. You were used to being flirted with on the job, sure that you had heard every pick up line under the sun at this point, but something about the way it fell from Matty’s pink, plump lips had your stomach in a whirl. 

“You got it.” You smiled, blindly reaching down to grab the menu off of the table, not wanting to look away from his face - wanting to study every crevice and cranny so you would never forget it. You hadn’t realized that his hand had lingered on the menu until your fingers were brushing against his own, blaming the jolt you felt from the touch of his skin against your own on static, swallowing thickly and quick to scoop the menu up and into your arms - desperate to put some space between the two of you so you could actually breathe and have it reach down to your lungs.

Matty’s eyes were heavy on you, dark and dangerous and all but gleaming up at you. You shot him a tight smile, nodding your head down at him before turning on your heels and nearly sprinting to the front of the diner, tossing the laminated menu off to the side so you could grab onto the tiled counter with both hands. Your head hung between your shoulders as you released a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in, only having a moment of alone time before Ruth was crowding your space. 

“Should I clear the restaurant out so the two of you can fuck? I mean Jesus.” Ruth teased, you forced out a laugh in return, heart pounding against your ribcage - embarrassed that Matty still had such an affect on you even with the distance between the two of you. “He was looking at you like he’d rather eat you for dinner.”

You couldn’t even argue with Ruth because she was right, he had been staring at you like he could eat you alive in front of everyone, the idea was tempting. But you found yourself shaking your head before you could allow yourself to go down that rabbit hole. “It wasn’t like that.”

“You can’t be serious.” Ruth laughed through a scoff, glancing over in the direction you had just come from. “I mean, he’s literally still staring at you right now.”

“Oh my god.” You groaned, grabbing her arm and pulling her in a way that forced her body to turn away from Matty, as you had been standing. “It doesn’t matter how he’s looking at me, I can’t do it.”

“Are you-” Ruth cut herself off to huff. “Why can’t you? He’s hot, he’s into you, like-” Ruth cut herself off again in favor of looking over her shoulder to confirm that Matty was still staring over at them. “Really into you.” You sighed, squeezing your eyes shut and gripping the counter tighter. “I mean, you were just telling me how long it’s been since, you know.” You shot a glare your friend's way at her words, causing her to raise her hands in defense. “Look, I’m just saying that I think this could be really good for you.”

You sighed once more, holding your breath before finding the courage to look over your shoulder yourself, immediately making eye contact with dark, dangerous eyes. Matty smiled when he noticed you looking back at him, raising his hand to wave softly at you. You groaned, turning around to drop your head between your shoulders again. “I can’t.”

“But-” 

You cut Ruth off before she could even argue. “I’ll have my fun flirting with him while he’s here and forget about him as soon as he pays, he’s probably just passing through town.” You huff, taking your arms off of the counter and standing more straight up. “I’ll never see him again.”

“Exactly.” Ruth stressed. “Even more reason to just go for it. You’ll never see him again.”

You fixed your friend with a look that had her rolling her eyes. “Fine. But you’re not allowed to complain to me about your needs ever again, I tried to help you out.”

You snorted, shaking your head through a laugh. “Deal.”

So you soaked up the little time you had with Matty, giggling at his jokes and blushing at his advances until it eventually came time for him to pay his bill and leave you behind - but not before asking you for your phone number, scratching the back of his neck out of nerves as he did so. You felt bad rejecting him, doing so with a smile, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to hand out your phone number to another guy just to wait around for a call that would never come. You could tell by looking at Matty that he had a line of women that would wrap laps around the diner, you weren’t special, you were just entertaining for the night. He’d forget about you in the morning and you couldn’t stomach the thought, not when you knew you’d never forget about him. 

You teased Matty to ease the disappointment in his shoulders. “You’ll have to come back to get it.”

The words hurt to say, knowing deep down that you’d never see him again, yet still trying to  delude yourself into thinking they were true. Hard to face reality when Matty was staring down at you with a smug smile and promising that he’d be back to get it before walking out of the diner and out of your life for what you thought was forever. 

Oh, if only you fucking knew. 

—

“Right, sorry.” Your voice was tight, as tight as your jaw as you swallowed down what you really wanted to say to the customer sitting in the booth beneath you. “I’ll get this fixed for you.”

You shot the brightest, fakest smile you could muster up at the middle aged blonde woman in the booth before grabbing the plate from the table, waiting until you were three steps away from her before rolling your eyes and dropping the fake theatrics all together. “Why the fuck would I have known you wouldn’t want bacon on a bacon cheeseburger?” You mumbled to yourself, cursing the woman, as you walked back up to the front of the diner.

You turn around to push the door to the kitchen open with your shoulder, immediately feeling eyes on you as you make your way over to the counter next to the stove and toss the plate full of fresh, hot food onto it with a hefty sigh. “Hey, now, don’t come back here with that type of attitude.” 

You laughed softly, bringing your hands up to rub at your face out of frustration, peeking through your fingers at the man that the teasing tone belonged to. Ricky stared at you with a raised eyebrow, a glimmer of playfulness in his dark eyes. “Sorry, I’m just-” You cut yourself off, deeming that the gesture of choking the air was a better explanation than any words could have expressed. “you know?” 

A mixture of laughter echoed throughout the kitchen, the men back in the kitchen all stopping their task at hand to listen to you complain about the awful day you were having - about the cup of coffee you had dropped within the first hour of your shift, the ceramic shattering against the checkered floor, dark liquid spreading against the black and white checkered floor. The way that your boss, the owner of The City Diner - Tony, had bitched at you for dropping it, imitating his rough voice and earning more laughter as you relived the conversation with him. You were halfway through your story about the blonde bitch in the booth when you heard your name being called through the window, stopping your story in favor of looking over at who was calling for your attention. 

Ruth had her elbows on the metal of the serving window, leaning in with a shit eating grin that told you everything you needed to know about what she was about to say - but she chose to tease you anyway, raising her voice in a sing-song manner and batting her eyelashes. 

“Your boyfriend is here.” Wolf whistles were heard from beside you as you groaned with a roll of your eyes at your coworkers' antics. “Right on time.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” You tried to argue, but it didn't matter, your coworkers had already started to tease you. 

“Oh, that will cheer her right up.” Nick teased, tossing a towel over his shoulder and crossing his arms over his chest with a smug smile spread over his unshaven face. “What do we think this time, boys?” You glared at the cook as he glanced around the room with furrowed brows. “Ten minutes before he spews a pick up line?”

“Ha.” Ricky laughed, shaking his head and giving you a once over. “Five minutes, max.”

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest, glaring at the men with a stare that you wish could catch fire, rolling your eyes with a deep huff when Ruth decided to chime in. “You guys clearly don’t know him at all.” The brunette argued, glancing over her shoulder at what you could only assume was the booth you knew a familiar head of curls was sitting. “He’ll say hello to her and then immediately tell her how pretty she looks today.”

“Alright.” Nick nodded, glancing over in the same direction Ruth just had, narrowing his eyes. “Five bucks?”

“Deal.” Ruth leaned through the window further to shake her hand with Nick’s, Ricky walked over to join in. You cleared your throat, fixing them all with an unimpressed stare that they smiled back to in return. 

“Wow, I’m so glad that you guys are placing bets on my love life.” You huffed, shifting your weight between your feet under their stares, Nick’s eyebrow still raised as he tilted his head to the side.

“Love life? I thought you weren’t interested in the bloke.” Nick stared at you expectantly, all eyes in the kitchen on you as they had caught you red handed, you huffed at the slip up. 

“I’m not.” You argued with a meek voice, tightening your arms over your chest when the entire kitchen broke out in a mix of “sure.” and “yeah, right.”

Nick rolled his eyes, but didn’t press the issue any further.  “C’mon, you know you want in on it.” He teased, tempting you to take the bait. You took a few steps forward so you could glance out of the serving window, the all too familiar head of curls sitting right where you expected them to be. You fought off a smile, turning back to face the three of them who stared at you, almost holding their breath to see if you would play along or not. 

You brought your tongue out to wet your lips, allowing a smirk to spread over your face as you leaned forward as if you were letting them in on a big secret. “I bet he doesn’t even tell me hi first.”

“There she is!” Nick cheered, raising his fist up in celebration. 

“And if I’m right, you fuckers all owe me ten.” You countered, glancing at all three of them who nodded in agreement.

“Deal.” Nick spoke with a sharp nod, bringing his hand down to shake with your own to finalize the deal before tilting his head in the direction of where the subject of the bet was sitting. “Now go out there and make us proud.”

You rolled your eyes through a scoff, shaking your head as you turned on your heels to make your way over to the kitchen door - stopping in front of it to look over at the three of them before bringing your hand up to the clip in your hair and removing it from your head, allowing your hair to fall down your back, smiling to yourself as they all groaned - murmurs of “she’s cheating” and “that’s not fair” whispered as you shot them a wink before pushing open the door and stepping back out into the diner. The three of them leaned against the metal of the hatch, watching your every move, waiting to see who would win. 

Your white converse carried you across the black and white checkered floor of the diner over to the all too familiar booth, a path that you could probably do with your eyes closed at this point. You pulled the skirt of your uniform up a little higher on your hips before standing in front of the booth, feeling all too powerful as you watched the man who was already staring at your exposed legs. You fought back a smile, knowing you already had him in the palm of your hand. 

You watched the way his dark eyes trailed up your body, a flirtatious smile fighting his lips as he leaned back, throwing a leather covered arm over the back of the red booth - finally locking eyes with you. With the way he was looking at you, you knew you were about to be thirty dollars richer before he even opened his mouth. “Well, there’s my favorite girl. Don’t you look extra pretty today.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth to stop from laughing as you could hear Ruth, Nick and Ricky all groaning and cursing in disappointment of losing. You brought one of your hands behind your back to rub your fingers together in a way to tell them they owed you money, flipping them off quickly before focusing your attention fully on the boy who had quickly become your favorite customer.  “Hi Matty.”

It had been five weeks since Matty had come in for the first time. You found it ironic, that the first night that you had met him you assumed you’d never see him again only to develop a routine with the boy. Every single Wednesday at 6 pm, Matty would stroll into The City Diner in his leather jacket, slip into the same booth, order the same exact meal and flirt with you until you were so red in the face that you had to walk away from him. 

It was dizzying how persistent he was when it came to you, never letting the many, multiple rejections stop him from showing up the following week and trying again - maybe it had something to do with you drawing the tiniest of hearts next to have a nice day! on his receipt, or maybe it was the way you’d sometimes slip into the booth across from him to chat when the diner was extra slow, which happened more often than not considering he came on the slowest day of the week. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that you have never truly rejected him. Always smart with your choice of words and choosing to just walk away with a blush instead of turning the man down, knowing deep down that if you gave him what he really wanted that there would be no reason for him to ever return to the diner and you simply couldn't have that. You had grown accustomed to your little routine and you weren’t quite ready to give him up yet. 

“Hi pretty girl.” Matty smiles, staring at you with dark eyes that gleamed at you like you hung the moon. “How’s your day going?”

“Oh, you know.” You sighed dramatically, trying not to make it obvious how excited you were to see him. You figured since you were on your sixth time doing this that you wouldn’t be as giddy to see him, but you found yourself more and more so with each time that he walked through the front door - surprised that he was still showing up despite the fact that you still hadn’t given him your phone number like you had promised to before. “Same old shit, had a woman bitch at me for putting bacon on the burger that she ordered.”

Matty nodded along with slightly furrowed brows. “Well, why would you put bacon on her burger if she didn’t order it?” 

You know Matty didn’t mean it the way he said it, but the way he worded the question had your blood beginning to boil all over again, you took a deep breath before pointing out a vital part of the story. “Oh, I don't know, maybe because she ordered a bacon cheeseburger.”

Matty’s head hit the back of the booth in a loud laugh that bounced off the walls of the diner and reverberated inside your mind, making you feel warm inside, it had quickly become one of your favorite sounds. “No fucking way.”

“Yes.” You laughed softly alongside him. “I wish I was joking.”

“Is she still here?” Matty glanced around the restaurant when you nodded in response, only having to look at a few tables before making his guess. “Was it that girl?”

You glanced over your shoulder, another stream of giggles falling from your lips at the fact that Matty was able to immediately clock her. “How did you know?”

“Oh, the haircut.” Matty replied quick and simple, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Come on now.”

“Yeah, so that’s how my day is going.” You shook your head through a laugh. “What about yours?”

That flirtatious smile was back on his face in the blink of an eye. “Much better now that I’m with you, darling.”

“Oh, please.” You groaned through a roll of your eyes. “That was cheesy, even for you.”

“Hey, it’s hard to be creative after so many weeks.” Matty defended with his hands up, crossing his arms over his chest and giving you a quick once over. “If you’d stop being so stubborn and just give me your number.” He drew out the word with dramatic flair. “Then I wouldn't have to resort to cheesy lines. It’s a win-win scenario. Truly. You don’t have to hear pickup lines anymore and I finally get to take you out on the date I’ve been itching to bring you on for weeks now.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to fight off the smile that you feared might break your face in half, heat climbing up your neck and up to your cheeks. “Even prettier when you’re blushing, darling.”

You laughed breathily through your nose, bringing your finger to brush against the tip of your nose in an effort to hide your face, hopeful to find some footing to gain some type of control back in this conversation. “You know flirting doesn’t get you a discount, right?”

Matty brought a hand down over his heart, staring at you with faux offense that already had you rolling your eyes into the back of your skull. “Oh, I’m not flirting with you to get money off.” Emphasizing the word with a playful glint in his eyes, dark eyes that dragged slowly down the expanse of your body while his eyebrows raised the closer to your bare legs he got, speaking through a smug smirk. “Your clothes, however.”

“Alright.” You deadpan, shaking your head. “And with that, I’m gonna go put your order in.”

“Oh, come on.” Matty pleads through a soft laugh, clearly quite proud of himself for the joke that had heat simmering faintly in your stomach. “What’s it take to get your number?”

You sigh deeply, one that Matty knew was teasing, fixing him with a look that you hoped was full of annoyance but you knew was filled with everything but. This was a common occurrence, Matty asked for your number at least twice every week he came in here, persistent as hell with no sign of stopping. You considered just giving it to him, or just finally fully giving into him all together and jumping his bones like you’ve been wanting to for six weeks now. But playing hard to get was so much more fun. “Okay, I have a proposal for you.”

“Little soon to pop the question, don’t you think, darling?” Matty teased. “I don’t even have your number yet and you’re already trying to tie me down.”

You fix him with a look that has him holding his hands up in defense. “I’m sorry, go ahead.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Today’s the first of the month, right?” Matty nods. “Okay, why don’t we make a deal?”

“I’m listening.”

“If you’re nice and sweet, if you prove that you deserve it.” Matty shifts in the booth. “I’ll give you one digit of my phone number each month.” 

Matty nods slowly, pursing his lips as he stares off, deep in thought. “Alright, I can work with that.” Bringing his dark eyes back up to lock with yours. “I’ll take what I can get.” You giggle. “What’s my number, then?”

“Oh, you can’t have it yet.” You stare at him in bewilderment, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You just got here, you have to be nice and sweet to me first and then I’ll give you what you want.”

Matty’s eyebrows raise, a smirk plastered on his face. “Oh, I’ll show you nice and sweet, alright.” You tsk, Matty huffs and rolls his dark eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine.”

You smile. “Same order as always?” You knew it never changed, but wanted to confirm just in case. 

“Do you even need to ask at this point?” Matty asks with a tilt of his head.

“Alright, I’ll go put it in for you.” You nod, starting to turn on your heels.

“Okay, I’ll just be sitting here.” Matty sighed, dramatic as ever, clasping his hands together and tapping his fingers against the backs of them. “Being as sweet and nice as I can possibly be.”

You snort, shaking your head with a roll of your eyes, turning the rest of the way so you could walk away. “You’re so annoying.”

Matty’s order didn’t take long to come out, only having to wait less than ten minutes before you were sliding the plate of food in front of him, sitting the chocolate milkshake alongside it and reaching into your apron to grab him a straw and accidentally setting down two. Matty was quick to raise a brow at you with a smirk. “You trying to share my milkshake, darling?” You were quick to shake your head no, snatching up the extra straw before he got any ideas. “You can have it, actually.” Matty spoke with certainty, leaning back in the booth to give your body a quick scan. “Got something else in mind that I’d rather drink.”

You couldn’t stop your mouth from dropping in astonishment, sometimes you truly could not believe some of the stuff that came out of his mouth. “You are ridiculous.” You scoff. “And you were doing so well too.”

Matty shrugs, picking up a fry off of his plate and dipping it in his chocolate milkshake, sticking his tongue out in a way that was unnecessary for eating a french fry, astounded that he could make something so innocent seem so pornographic.

“Can you really blame me?” His dark eyes glued to your legs that were on display. “I mean, you’re the one who hiked your skirt up before you walked over here to greet me.”

You found your mouth dropping open in astonishment for the second time in such a short span of time, quick to close it and clear your throat, a deep blush deepening on your cheeks for being called out - embarrassed that Matty had caught you in the act. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Right.” Matty nodded, eyes dragging up the length of your legs painfully slow, spending an extra beat where the hem of the skirt of your uniform met the middle of your thighs. The smirk on his face grew as you shifted under his gaze, his dark eyes shooting up to meet your own. “Do I get my reward now?”

You hummed, tapping your pointer finger against your chin as if you were deep in thought, Matty watched you with gleaming eyes that narrowed from your antics. “Do you think you deserve it?”

Matty hummed, swallowing and leaning forward in the booth, arms folded against the table as he leaned in to speak low and deep, a dangerous look in those deep, dark eyes of his. “One of these days, I’m going to make you eat those words.”

You swallowed thickly, a low heat simmering in your stomach from his promise. You stared at one another for a few beats of your pounding heart, the rate of it picking up impossibly quicker when dark chocolate eyes flicked down to your lips, your tongue felt as though it was made of sandpaper. 

You cleared your throat in hopes of taking some of the tension with it, sliding Matty’s receipt across the table to him, never wavering eye contact with him as you did so. His dark eyes only breaking from your own when you tilted your head down ever so slightly in reference to the receipt. Matty picked up the small, thin piece of paper between his rather large, veiny hands - the sight of them on full display had your tongue feeling much more like the desert, watching the way one of the veins jumped as he ran his finger absentmindedly along the back of the receipt. Or maybe he was doing it on purpose, if he had noticed the way you hiked your skirt up so it’d be shorter before standing before him, you were sure that he had to have known about your obsession with his hands. 

Matty read over the receipt, smiling softly at the familiar etching of your handwriting across the top of it, have a nice day!<3 - the ink still fresh. 

He glanced at you over the top of the receipt, his eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly, confused as to why you wanted him to look at the piece of paper right now. You widen your eyes slightly, nodding your head back down at the receipt so he would look at it again. The furrow in Matty’s thick eyebrows deepened as he looked back down at the receipt, dark eyes scanning over the paper. You knew he spotted it when the wrinkle between his brows softened, an easy, happy smile taking over his face. 

At the bottom right corner of the receipt, you had written a small 8 - the very first digit of your phone number. 

Matty raised a fist in the air out of celebration, shaking it with a big smile on his face, causing you to break out into a fit of laughter. “Finally.”

You shook your head at his antics. “You’re ridiculous.”

“So are you if you think I’m just taking this one number.” Matty slid the receipt back over to you, tapping a finger against the spot next to the eight. “We’re on week six, you owe me for last month.”

“You cannot be serious.” You scoffed, eyes glued to his long finger that rested against the receipt. “That was not part of the deal.”

Matty shrugged, leaning back in the booth and folding his arms behind his head, the sight alone had you refraining from crawling under the booth and taking him into your mouth until he - 

You cleared your throat once more, heat simmering in your stomach as the action had caused Matty’s shirt underneath his leather jacket to rise ever so slightly, enough to reveal some colored ink peeking outside of the waistband of his black jeans. You knew you were staring, but you couldn’t even find it in yourself to be ashamed, not even when you could feel Matty smirking at you - having caught you gawking at the sight of revealed skin and taking it a step further by waiting until your eyes eventually met his own just for him to look down at his lap pointedly, locking eyes with you again and raising a brow.  

As hard as you tried, you couldn’t stop your eyes from flicking down to his lap as he wanted you to, his legs spreading further apart now that your attention was on them, almost like an invitation. You cleared your throat again, surprised that you could even still do so with how dry it was, looking away from him before you actually ended up crawling under the booth this time. 

You dug in your apron for your pen, avoiding eye contact as you leaned down to write a second digit next to the first one, Matty’s gaze burned against exposed skin as you did so. You stood back up straight with a tight smile, pushing the receipt back over to him, not able to take your hand away fast enough before he was grabbing it from you, fingers brushing against your own - having contact with his skin had heat swirling in your stomach now.

You pulled your hand away in favor of wrapping your arms around yourself, needing to hurry up and put some distance between the two of you, hard to breathe with the thick tension in the air. Matty shot you a knowing smirk that had you tightening your arms around yourself, hating that he had you all figured out. He looked down at the receipt to look at the second number, a 2 written next to the 8 you had previously done. 

He smiled to himself, folding up the receipt and pulling out his wallet so he could slide it into one of the card holders for safe keeping, the sight had your cheeks stained pink. “Thank you, darling.”

You nodded, not sure if you even had a voice to speak after the show he just put on, but desperate to find one with the way he was staring at you expectantly. “Think you can wait that long?” Your voice was meek, barely there, but it was something.

“Can you?” Matty teased, deepening the light pink stain on your cheeks to a deeper rose color. The sight of it gave Matty all the confidence in the world. “I’m not worried, I’ll get you to crack before then, I promise you that.” Matty’s words shot down to your core, the heat from your stomach spreading throughout your veins and making your body warmer and warmer from his confident words. “I’m very patient.”

—

As the end of summer turned into fall, the months piled on and with each passing week you found yourself in deeper and deeper with Matty, still surprised to see him still walking through the door at 6pm every Wednesday even as the seasons changed. 

You help up your end of the deal, giving him a shiny, new digit of your phone number every month, the boy always ecstatic to receive it. 

In September, Matty earned another 2 to go alongside the last one, finally having your area code and bragging that he was already a third of the way there, pulling out the receipt from his wallet and stealing your pen right out of your apron to jot down the digit so he wouldn’t forget it. 

You were stunned by his comfortability of reaching into the pocket of your apron and grabbing the ink pen, shaking your head to get yourself out of the daze it had put you in so you could tease him. “You kept that?”

Matty scoffed. “Of course I did?” Looking at you as if you had grown two heads. “This is very important.”

Matty held up to his end of the deal, trying his hardest to make you crack sooner rather than later, keeping your cheeks stained with a blush anytime he was around. 

Like now, lingering on a barstool at the front counter after his bill had already been paid, watching your every move until you decided to finally give him the attention he so desperately craved. 

“Is there a reason you haven’t gone home?” You huffed, leaning on folded arms on the counter that separated the two of you, narrowing your eyes. 

“Well, you’re always saying how you’re so busy working up here and that’s the reason you can’t go on a date with me, so I figured I’d wait for you. Maybe we could leave at the same time.” Matty shrugged, smiling easy. “Do you?”

“Do I what?” You questioned, eyes puzzled and heart pounding.

“Do you wanna leave at the same time?”  

You swallowed down the butterflies that threatened to start to swarm at the question, couldn't help but imagine what everyone would think if they saw the two of you leave together. Almost like he had read your mind, Matty extended his offer. “I leave first and you can wait five minutes so it’s not suspicious.” 

Matty could feel you considering it, leaning in closer and capitalizing on your silence. “I don’t live too far from here, could have you falling apart underneath me in half an hour.”

It was tempting, very tempting. So tempting that an agreement was on your tongue, seconds away from being spoken but the sound of the bell and a shout of “Order up!” had broken you from your daze - Matty’s shoulders dropping in disappointment.

—

In October, you gave Matty a 9, his fourth digit. 

Halloween falls on a Wednesday and you weren’t expecting to see him at all, assuming he’d had some party to go to, surprised to see him stroll into the diner dressed as Patrick Bateman - blood and all. Swinging an ax over his shoulder as he slid into his normal booth. 

“I didn’t think I’d see you today.” You said it because it was true, drinking in the sight of his costume, wondering what it would feel like to pull on his tie and lick the fake blood off of his face. 

“It’s a Wednesday, why wouldn’t you?” 

“It’s Halloween.” You gestured to the costume he was wearing. “Don’t you have some hot party to go to?”

“I do.” Matty shrugs, making your blood simmer with jealousy at the thought of who he might meet tonight, the feeling subsiding when Matty winked. “But I had a hot date with my favorite waitress I couldn’t miss out on first.” 

You rolled your eyes to combat the pink that stained your cheeks. 

Maybe it was the way the navy blue pinstripe suit clung to his body, or the way the red splattered along his face seemed to accentuate his features, maybe it was the ax splattered in the same shade of red sitting next to him - whatever it was, you found the confidence to say, “I thought I was your favorite girl.”

Matty hummed, running his dark eyes along your body unashamed and easy, following the curve of it with practiced ease. “And here I thought girls were supposed to dress slutty on Halloween. Where’s the effort, darling?” Matty’s eyes had settled on the cat ears sitting on top of your head. “Saving the lingerie for me?”

You snorted, rolling your eyes, anything to distract from the idea of showing off a pretty, lacy lingerie set for Matty just so he could peel it off of you. “Yeah, sure.”

Matty hummed once more. “What time do you get off?” Not even waiting for an answer. “You could come with me, could be my Evelyn.”

You nodded. “You mean Patrick’s fiancé?” 

“Indeed.” Matty replied, smirking.

You hummed, tilting your head to the side. “You mean the one he dumps? In a restaurant?” Matty brings bloody fingers around to scratch the back of his neck. “You trying to tell me something, Healy?” 

Matty laughs softly, recovering easy. “Well, you see, you’d actually have to go out with me before I could ever dump you.”

“Hm, that’s quite a predicament.” You pouted. “As far as Evelyn goes,” Shrugging. “I guess I’m not your girl.”

“I’m afraid not.” Matty agrees, giving you a quick once over before smirking. “But you are my favorite girl.”

Your eyes roll, deflecting from the way his words made you blush. “I’m sure you say that to all your victims.”

Matty brings a hand over his chest in faux offense, laughing the dig off easily. “You really should come with me though.” Matty stresses, dark eyes pleading. “I could cover you in fake blood, you could be my next victim.” Matty teased the word right back at you, causing your eyes to roll once more. “I could sneak you upstairs and give you a screaming good time.”

You cursed the way your stomach rolled with heat at the innuendos that spilled easily from his mouth, amazed that he could think so quickly on his feet. “Tempting.”

And it was. It always was. 

You weren’t quite sure if you were debating on going to the party with the promise of Matty taking you upstairs and having his way with you or with the need to cling to his arm so no other woman would think they stood a chance. 

But as always, you found yourself shaking your head no, Matty sighed out of disappointment - truly thinking he had you this time.

“I hope you have fun at your party though.” You smile softly, to which Matty claims that it won’t be as fun without you, making your smile widen and giving you the confidence to say, “Don’t go out searching for victims tonight.”

The comment was sly enough to be read as a joke about the character he was dressed up as, it didn’t have to mean anything deeper. But the way that Matty’s eyes gleamed up at you as he smiled told you that he understood exactly what you meant.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

—

In November, you gave Matty another 9, the fifth digit twinning with the one before - halfway to having your full phone number that he so desperately craved. 

“822-99” Matty spoke the digits he knew, not even needing to look at the faded receipt that he had been keeping track of them on, knowing the numbers off the top of his head by heart. “I’m halfway home, darling. Soon enough, I’ll be able to guess the rest of the way.”

—

By the time December rolled around, you were absolutely, completely, utterly fed up with your boss. 

You were so angry that you felt as though your head was on the brink of exploding, biting your tongue as hard as ever as you turned to walk away from your boss, Tony, before you said something to him that would cost you your job. 

A family of four with a rather large bill had slipped out the front door while you were in the kitchen grabbing food for another table, leaving the bill unpaid and the responsibility for it on your shoulders - according to Tony. 

“That’s not fair!” You argued with your boss, willing tears to not swell in your eyes as the anger boiled inside of you, you always hated that you cried when you got angry. You refused to let your boss see them fall. “It’s not like I told them to get up and leave! Why should I be punished for it?”

Tony shrugged. “You should have been paying better attention, I don’t know what to tell you. Someone has to pay for it, you were their waitress so I think it should be you.”

The interaction played on a loop in your mind, fueling the fire inside of you as you walked across the black and white checkered floor of the diner, jaw clenched and eyes brimmed with hot, angry tears - not even thinking about what you were doing when you tossed yourself down in a familiar, occupied red leather booth with a huff and your arms crossed over your chest. 

Matty stared at you with dark eyes that were slightly more wide than normal, startled to see you sitting across from him for once. The faintest rise of a smirk spreading across his lips as he leaned back against the leather of the booth, crossing his arms over his chest, mirroring you - giving you a shameless once over before speaking. “You look like you need a cigarette.”

You sighed, uncrossing your arms from your chest in favor of leaning your elbows on the table and resting your face in your hands. Matty could see how tense your shoulders were from across the booth, the smirk on his face dropping and replaced with a look of concern, uncrossing his own arms from his chest and leaning forward to reach across the table - hesitating before brushing his fingers across one of your elbows. 

“Hey, you okay?” You huffed, spreading your fingers over your eyes so you could look at the boy across from you, the concern on his face growing now that he could see your red brimmed eyes - still fighting for your life to not let any of them fall. Matty narrowed his eyes. “What happened? Who’s ass do I have to kick?”

You couldn’t stop the soft laugh that tumbled from your lips, grateful for the way he seemed to ease the tension in your shoulders so effortlessly. “I’m serious!” Matty spoke through a soft laugh of his own, tilting his head to the side when it died down and looking at you more seriously now. “What's wrong?”

“Just-“ You cut yourself off with a deep sigh pulled from your toes, huffing the air out of your nose and shaking your head softly. “Fucking Tony, it’s always fucking Tony. I can't take it anymore.”

“That’s your boss, yeah?” Matty’s face drew up in disgust when you nodded in confirmation. “Of course his name is Tony, stupid name.” You couldn’t help but giggle at the way Matty already hated the man despite not even knowing what happened, already taking your side in the situation. “What did he do?”

You rehashed the entire situation sitting in the booth across from Matty, feeling more relieved now that you were able to talk about it instead of keeping it bottled in. And the way Matty threw in little jabs and jokes at your boss’s expense had you laughing so much that you almost forgot you were even mad in the first place. 

“Matty, shut up, he’s gonna hear you.” You scolded through shaking shoulders, covering your mouth to try and conceal the laughter that was pouring out of you at the curly haired boy's roast session he was having with your boss. 

“I hope he fucking does, he’s a dick.” Matty scoffed, glancing around the diner and glaring at Tony who was standing in the corner taking an order over the phone, unaware of the fire Matty was shooting at him with his dark eyes. “That’s not fair to make you pay for their meal just because they walked out, he should have to pay for it. It’s his fucking diner.”

“Yeah, you’d think.” You sighed, shoulders dropped as you leaned your chin against the palm of your hand, not even thinking about what you were doing as you reached out to take a french fry off of Matty’s forgotten plate - popping it in your mouth and only realizing what you had done when Matty stared at you with a soft smile. You blushed to your roots out of embarrassment, the fry felt like sand going down your throat as you swallowed it. “Sorry.”

Matty was quick to shake his head. “No, no, don’t apologize.” Reaching down to grab a french fry off of his own plate and holding it out to you, raising an eyebrow at you before pushing his plate slightly closer to you, signaling for you to take another. The flush on your face grew deeper, a sight that had the smile on Matty’s face growing wider. You rolled your eyes playfully before grabbing another french fry off of his plate, cheersing your fry against his own with a smile you could no longer fight before bringing it up to your mouth in sync.

The two of you stared at one another until you couldn’t take it anymore, rolling your eyes softly with a shake of your head, cheeks red as ever as grew a sudden interest in the table in front of you, only looking back up at him when he cleared his throat, bringing the conversation back to where it began. “I would be happy to spare a cigarette if you need.” Matty offered, taking another fry off of his plate. “I have a pack in my back pocket.”

You sighed, almost feeling ashamed to admit. “I don’t smoke.” The faint rumble in your stomach had you feeling bold enough to take another fry from his plate, trying to hide away a smile when Matty tried to subtly scoot the plate closer to you once more. “Sadly.”

“Well, maybe you should pick up the habit.” Matty teased, glancing over at Tony once more with a scowl. “Cigarettes always make me feel more at ease.”

You snorted. “That’s a terrible habit to have.” Matty rolled his dark eyes dramatically, smiling softly at you. “Why can’t you just be normal and eat ice cream to cheer yourself up?”

You were only teasing, but Matty was quick to take the bait. “Okay, let me buy you a milkshake then.”

You tried to ignore the fluttering in your stomach, blaming it on the fact that the few fries you’ve eaten off of Matty’s plate were all that was in your stomach right now and not the fact that the gesture had you fighting off yet another blush.

You tried to deflect, shaking your head softly. “You don’t have to do that.” Folding your arms down on the table and shrugging. “I get them for free.”

Matty rolled his dark eyes. “Well, let me buy it for you anyway.”

He was already waving down Ruth before you had the chance to decline, swallowing thickly when he caught her attention. You could see the confusion on her face at the sight of Matty waving her down and not you from across the restaurant, the furrow of her brows deepening when she noticed you were sitting across from him. 

“What kind do you want?” The sound of Matty’s voice pulled your attention away from Ruth, locking eyes with the boy across from you who was holding his hand up to stop you from telling him. “Wait, I know.”

You tilted your head at him, flushing when he shot you a quick wink before turning his attention to Ruth who was now standing next to the booth you both were sitting in, you could feel her eyes burning into the side of your face yet ignored it like the plague. “Sorry, I wasn’t aware that I needed to be checking in on you.” You crossed your arms back over your chest at the way Ruth targeted her words at you. “I thought you belonged to another waitress.”

And oh, did you like the sound of that - Matty belonging to you.

“She’s taking her fifteen.” Matty answered for you with a sickly sweet smile, you fought off one of your own as you finally decided to glance up at your friend who was already staring down at you. 

When the two of you made eye contact, her eyes widened ever since slightly to convey ‘What the hell is going on?’ to which you replied with a small shrug to silently respond, ‘I have no idea.’

Ruth shook her head softly, putting a bright smile on and finally looking at Matty, you found your eyes doing the same. “What can I do for you?”

“Oh, I just need to add another milkshake to my order, if that’s alright?” Your heart hammered in your chest as Matty ordered for you, you could already hear the interrogation you’d be having with Ruth in the back corner of the kitchen as soon as you stood up from this booth. 

“Yeah, of course.” Ruth smiled, pulling out her notepad and pen to write down the addition, her foot kicking against your own softly. “What kind?”

You narrowed your eyes at the curly haired boy who’s dark eyes scanned your face with a faint smirk before responding. “Strawberry.” 

You blamed the flutters in your stomach on being hungry once more as Matty nailed the milkshake flavor all on his own. Ruth nodded her head, turning on her heels to put the order in as you narrowed your eyes further at Matty. “How did you know that?”

Matty leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table, bringing two fingers up to his temples and narrowing his eyes right back at you. You kicked him softly under the table, causing laughter to pour out of him. You quite liked the sound of that. “A magician never tells his secrets, darling.” 

You rolled your eyes, taking another french fry off of his plate and biting it with vengeance. “You think you know me so well.”

Matty nodded his head once, leaning back against the booth and throwing an arm across the top of it, fixing you with a smirk. “Well, considering I’ve seen you every single Wednesday for about six months now, I think it’s safe to say that I do.”

Six months? Had he really been coming around for that long?

Before you could challenge him, Ruth was sliding the strawberry milkshake in front of you, an action that made you blush considering Matty hadn’t explicitly ordered it for you - oh you were so in for it as soon as Ruth got you alone. Matty thanked her and soon the two of you were alone again, you sheepishly pulled the milkshake closer to yourself so you could take a sip from the bright red straw, trying to ignore Matty’s heated gaze on your lips wrapped around the plastic as you sucked the milkshake through it. 

You hummed in delight, licking the excess ice cream off of your lips before shooting Matty a smile, the boy across from you shifted in his seat with a smile that was tighter than your own. You chose to break the tension. “Really, how did you know I’d want a strawberry shake?”

Matty shrugged, taking a sip from his own chocolate milkshake to try and avoid the question, but a tap of your foot against his own under the table had him realizing you weren’t going to let it go until you had an answer. Matty sighed, holding out his finger towards you. “Okay, but you’re not allowed to laugh at me.”

You nodded in agreement, taking another sip of your milkshake and kicking your feet under the table at the excitement of seeing even a glimpse into Matty’s mind.

“I figured you’d want a strawberry milkshake because I've seen you use a strawberry flavored chapstick a few times before.” Matty admitted with pink tinted cheeks, the ice cream going down your throat suddenly giving you a brain freeze at his admission. “It was a lucky guess, thought I’d take a shot at strawberry being a flavor you enjoyed in other things as well.”

You could no longer blame the fluttering in your stomach on your hunger, really it was a piss poor excuse to begin with. You knew that wasn’t the cause of it then and you for sure knew it wasn’t the cause of it now, the butterflies swarming in your stomach spread through your veins and made you feel as though you were about to take off in flight. The fact that Matty had paid attention to, remembered a detail so small had you feeling like throwing all caution to the wind and jumping across the table and finally kissing him like you had so desperately been wanting to since the first night he strolled in here. 

But you wouldn’t, you couldn’t. You refused to fall for Matty, you knew he was just in this to prove that he could break you down. He probably wasn’t used to being rejected, so now he was determined to flirt his way into your pants. Well, it wasn’t going to work. You would allow yourself to enjoy his flirtatious jokes every Wednesday for as long as he showed up, but you would never allow yourself to catch feelings for the curly haired boy. Nope. 

“God, I’m sorry, I sound like such a creep.” Matty cringed. “Did I weird you out? I’m so sorry.”

“No.” You were quick to disagree, realizing that the silence you had met him with had definitely made him start to panic, not realizing that you were having a panic of your own inside your own head. “No, it’s not creepy.” You assured, trying to search for the right word that wouldn’t cause a butterfly from your stomach to just fly out of your mouth as you spoke it. “It’s sweet.”

The faint pink tint on Matty’s cheek darkened to a rose color as he rolled his eyes playfully, taking another sip from his chocolate milkshake. You leaned forward to take a sip of your own strawberry one to stop the smile from spreading over your face. You glanced at the clock on the wall across the diner as you sipped on your milkshake, your eyes widening at the time.

“Oh god, I need to get back to work before Tony actually fires me.” You took one last quick rushed gulp of your milkshake, wincing from the brain freeze that it caused, the sound of Matty’s laughter warmed your veins back up. “Thank you for this, really.” You smiled at him softly. “All of it. For listening to me rant, for easing my mind.” You tilted down at the milkshake before you. “For buying me this. I just-“ You paused to take a deep breath, swallowing down the butterflies that threatened to fly out of your mouth as you stared into Matty’s dark eyes. “Thanks.”

You slid out of the booth before you could be entranced by his dark orbs any longer, smoothing your hands over the skirt of your uniform as you did, not noticing how clammy your hands were until right now. “Of course, I’m happy to do it.”

You swallowed thickly, trying to stop your knees from wobbling when Matty stared up at you from his place at the booth, a sight you’ve seen more times than you could count - so why did this time feel so different? You smiled, trying your best to deflect and bring the conversation back to where it was comfortable - mindlessly, meaningless flirting. “Same time next week, yeah?”

A familiar teasing smirk fell across Matty’s lips, the familiar sight had you feeling more at ease as the two of you slipped back into your normal roles with one another. “Already planning our second date, darling?”

You snorted. “We’d actually have to have the first one for me to do that, Healy.”

You knew you had walked right into the trap as soon as you said it, but it was too late now. You were already rolling your eyes before Matty could even say, “Okay, then let’s plan our first one.” Matty’s smile was smug, like he had just won some award. “You busy Friday night?”

“I am.” You nodded tightly, smiling to match, heart pounding against your rib cage. “But you knew that.”

Matty tsked, snapping his fingers in disappointment before holding a hand over his heart dramatically. “A guy can only take so much rejection.” You couldn’t help but giggle at his antics. “We could always count this as our first date.” Matty pointed out, making your heart pound impossibly faster. “In fact, I think I will.”

You snorted, shaking your head, trying your best to not show how his words were affecting you. “Nothing about this was a date.”

Matty shrugged. “We laughed, we shared my food, I bought you a milkshake.” You watched the curly haired boy count them on his long fingers. You cursed the pink tint that creeped up your neck as he spoke. “We even played footsie under the table.” Your mouth dropped at his claim, a bright smile spreading over his face at the sight. “Sounds like a date to me, darling.” 

“We did not play footsie.” You scoffed, shaking your head in astonishment. “I kicked you, there’s a difference.”

Matty shrugged once more. “It’s all the same in the dark.”

You blushed, turning your face to the side to try and hide it and immediately locking eyes with Ruth who was watching the two of you like a hawk. You felt your stomach drop at the sight, knowing that it was time to face the music and go talk to your friend about what the fuck had just a happened - you weren’t even sure if you knew yourself. 

You smiled sweetly. “Goodbye, Matty.”

Matty’s bright smile never faltered, his dark eyes giving you one last once over before nodding his head once. “Bye, darling.”

You could feel the heat from his stare as you walked away all the way through until you were hidden behind the door of the kitchen, immediately pulled into a corner so you could spill everything to Ruth. 

You found yourself rather busy after that, running around to try and make up for lost time, thankful that Ruth had taken over for you willingly when your fifteen minute break had ended up lasting around twenty five.

When you finally found the time to make it back over to Matty’s designated booth, you were sad to see that he was already gone. You sighed as you made your way over to collect the cash that you already knew was waiting for you, frozen in place when you saw more cash than normal sitting on top of the table. You felt your eyebrows furrow as you reached down to collect it, sliding the bills between your manicured nails as you counted it up. 

Matty left his usual twenty dollar tip and then an extra forty alongside it. You could feel the confusion etched on your face as you collected his receipt off the top of the table to see if he had left a note to explain why he had left sixty dollars behind. 

Your heart felt as though it was about to burst from your rib cage as you read his sloppy yet readable handwriting along the bottom of his receipt. 

i’m sorry that table ditched on you, hope this covers their bill for you. it was a wonderful first date ;) x

p.s. fuck tony - matty 

You stared in astonishment at the words etched in front of you, clutching the cash in between your fingers tightly, the gesture overwhelming you and making the butterflies in your stomach come crashing back in full force. 

Earlier you had vowed to never fall for the curly haired boy, but now standing here and holding proof that he cared about you, you feared that you already had. 

—

“I believe you owe me something.” Matty was leaned back against the booth, tattooed arm thrown over the back of the red leather booth, staring up at you with gleaming eyes and a smile to match. 

“Yeah?” Shifting your weight between your feet and tilting your head to the side, trying to think of the possibility of what he was about to say. Knowing him, it could be anything. “And what would that be?”

Matty raised a brow. “You owe me my number for the month.” Reminding you that you had indeed forgotten to give him his promised digit, you couldn’t imagine how you could have forgotten, normally just as excited to give Matty the digit as he was to receive it - though you were better at hiding it than he was. Matty was quick to remind you how. “I think it must have just slipped your mind, think you were too busy giving me bedroom eyes across the table, happens to the best of us.”

Matty slipped the original receipt that started this whole exchange across the table to you, all the ink faded and discolored from the paper except for the five digits etched in your handwriting. You huff through a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “You are insufferable.” 

Yet you leaned down to write a shiny, new number next to the more dull ones, livening up the paper and causing Matty to stare at it as if it was brand new. Matty’s dark eyes focused on the three written on the receipt, mumbling to himself. “822-993. Only four more to go and then you’re all mine.”

And oh, did you like the sound of that, being all Matty’s. 

Your stomach fluttered amongst other parts of you at the idea. 

You snort to deflect from the pink tint rising on your cheeks, looking down at his plate still covered in food. “You need a to-go box?”

“Depends.” Matty leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, dark eyes easily running along the expanse of your body with a smirk on his face. “Will you fit inside it?” Dark chocolate eyes falling in a wink. “You’re the only thing I want to take hot to go.”

The line was cheesy, but it worked. You hated that it had your stomach leaping and skin crawling, the idea of Matty taking you home and eating you for dinner, it drove you insane. 

Normally you’d turn on your heels, bidding him goodbye with a playful look in your eye, it was comfortable, normal - it was what he was expecting you to do. But you felt like rattling him for once, catch him off guard. And maybe, just maybe, you wanted to make it known that your resolve was weakening - not sure if you could wait out the last four digits, the tension already proving to be too much.

“Sorry.” You pushed your bottom lip out in a pout that his eyes immediately fell to without hesitation, bringing the tip of your tongue out the lick along the expanse of it now that his attention was already on it. “I don’t put out until the second date.”

The smirk on Matty’s face deepend, his gaze lingering on your lips for a beat more before sliding back up to lock eyes with your own. “Well, lucky for me we already had our first.”

 “What are you-” You cut yourself off to huff out a deep sigh. “That was not a date.”

Matty shrugs easily. “Whatever you say, darling.” You roll your eyes just as easy. “Come on, what’s it take to bring you home?”

You were feeling bold, blame it on the fact that he had actually taken his leather jacket off for once, black and colored ink scattered along his arms and on full display for your viewing pleasure. You batted your doe eyes.  “You’ll find out soon enough. Goodbye, Matty.”

Then you were turning on your heels with a wink of your own, leaving Matty alone in the booth with his mouth agape, eventually spreading into a smile that shined from across the diner. 

—

You were having a particularly long Wednesday, the minutes seemed to drag by like hours, only a few had passed by every time you checked the clock hanging on the wall of the diner. Deep down you knew that your constant attention on the clock was not due to boredom - you were counting down the minutes until the familiar head of curly hair walked through the door. 

Usually you were able to pinpoint the exact moment that Matty would step foot into the diner, never more than a minute or two past six o’ clock. You found yourself biting your lip raw as you poured a cup of coffee for an elderly man, glancing up at the clock and huffing when it displayed the time of 6:12. You turned your head over your shoulder to glance in the direction of the vacant booth that Matty should be sitting in by now, by this time he’d already be a few flirtatious comments deep with you, but it still remained empty - almost mocking you as you walked right past it to deliver the cup of coffee to the elderly man with a smile that you knew did not reach your eyes. 

You knew it was silly to be this upset over Matty being late, hell, he might not even be coming at all. But you had no reason to be. There was no law that stated that he had to share every single Wednesday night at 6pm in The City Diner with you - flirting your ear off until he had to leave, only to repeat the same cycle the next week. And the week after that. And the week after that. And the week after that. The two of you have been playing this game for seven months now so, actually, yes it almost was a law that Matty should be here by now. 

Did he finally grow tired of your rejections, had he given up on you? I mean, really, it was only a matter of time before he did. Seven months deep and all the curly headed boy had to show for it was six measly digits of your phone number, a little over halfway there. Matty more than likely had grown tired of the chase and found somebody new to play with, someone prettier and easier to break down, someone better than you. 

You felt sick at the thought, at the idea that you may never see the infectious boy ever again, kicking yourself for allowing him to infiltrate your veins in such a way that twelve fucking minutes had you on the verge of pulling your hair out. 

You found yourself back behind the counter before you could even realize how fast your feet were taking you across the checkered tile, grabbing a red frosted glass and slamming it down on the tile with a tight jaw, all but throwing the ice into the cup before holding it under the soda dispenser and glaring up at the clock as the fizzy drink filled the frosted glass up. 6:16 now. You swore you could hear the ticking of the hands on the clock even over the sound of conversations throughout the diner. Each passing second, every single tick had you gripping the cup tighter, only breaking from your daze when you felt the soda dripping onto your hands, so distracted by the hands on the clock that you let the drink overflow. You mumbled a curse, setting the cup to the side and staring down at your hands that you coated in the fizzy liquid. You huffed, wiping your hands on your apron as you searched for a stray, clean washcloth that would do the job better. 

“Hey.” You heard Ruth call out from beside you, leaning her back against the counter and crossing her arms over her chest, tilting her head in a direction you didn’t care to look at. “Who’s the girl?”

You huffed once more, you weren’t in the mood to gossip with your friend right now, not when Matty was late and your hands were growing sticky from the soda. You finally found a stray, clean washcloth to wipe the soda more efficiently from your hands with, only paying attention to Ruth when they no longer felt sticky. 

Ruth stared at you expectantly, her green eyes widening at you ever so slightly to imply that she was waiting for an answer, you sighed - shifting your weight on your feet and shaking your head softly out of annoyance. “What girl?”

You didn’t have time for this. You needed to clean up the mess you had made with the overflowing soda, you still needed to run the fizzy drink to a table who was waiting for it, Nick had just placed a hot plate that you were sure was for the booth in the back corner on the serving window and Matty still wasn’t here. You could not be bothered with whatever girl Ruth was talking about. 

Well, that was until you knew what girl Ruth was talking about. 

“The girl sitting with your boyfriend.” Ruth said with furrowed brows, her green eyes filled with confusion and desperate for answers. “I’ve never seen her around before.”

You found yourself rolling your eyes and shaking your head before you could even process what she had just said. “Matty is not my boyfr-“ You cut yourself off, finally processing what Ruth had just said. Matty was here? And he brought someone with him? A girl? “Wait, what?”

Ruth groaned, reaching out to grab the sides of your face so she could force you to look in the direction of the booth you had been sending death glares at for the past twenty minutes, blinking hard as though to make sure your eyes weren’t deceiving you. 

And sure enough, there Matty was, sitting in a leather jacket that contrasted beautifully with the red leather of the booth he was leaning back against. A sight that normally had you weak in the knees but now had you feeling as though you could burn this entire diner to the ground as you watched his curly head fall back in a loud laugh that filled the nearly vacant diner at something the girl across from him had said. The sound of his laughter normally had you feeling warm inside but as it mixed with the sound of hers your blood ran cold. 

She was - well, she was beautiful. Beautiful and perfect and amazing and you wanted her head on a platter. Her head that was full of dark, voluminous, luscious curls that fell down her back in contrast to the white shirt she was wearing. 

You pushed Ruth’s hands off of your face, staring at the two of them in bewilderment. Who was this girl? And why the fuck would Matty bring her here? 

“You have to go over there.” Ruth broke you from your daydream. 

“Are you insane?” You scoffed, not able to take your eyes off the train wreck in front of you. “You have to serve them, I can’t. I think I might throw up all over their table.”

“You have to go over there.” Ruth stressed, finally breaking your stare from Matty and the mysterious girl to stare at the brunette with pleading eyes. “Mark your territory, assert dominance, take claim of what’s yours.” 

“He doesn’t belong to me.” You argued because it was true. He didn’t. And it was all your fault. You could have had him that very first night you met him, but instead you decided to play the long game and look where it ended up. You lost your chance, he moved on and he was here to rub it in your face. 

Ruth rolled her green eyes at you, fixing you with a pointed look that had you releasing a deep sigh. She brought her manicured nails out to fix your hair, making sure you looked as perfect as could be before pushing your shoulder softly in the direction of the booth. “Go get your man.”

You huffed, rolling your own eyes while mumbling that he was not your man while you turned on your heels and made your way over to the all too familiar booth, dread seeping further and further into your veins with every step you took against the black and white checkered tile. 

Matty noticed you before you had finished making your way over to them, a smile instantly overtaking his face as he unashamedly ran his dark eyes over the expanse of your body, an action that normally had your stomach filling with butterflies but now had it swirling with nausea as you glanced over at the girl across from him just in time to catch her also giving you a quick once over. 

You swallowed the bile that threatened to creep up your throat at the sight, trying to ignore the thought that she had probably already deemed that you weren’t a threat and you couldn’t even blame her. Now that you could see her up close, you felt like a fool for ever even considering that you had a chance with the boy who was smiling up at you as you finally stopped next to their booth, not even forcing a fake smile on your face. You pulled the notepad from your apron and clicked your pen with vengeance, refraining from pulling your hair out at the idea that you hadn’t had to write Matty’s order down in months, but you needed the notepad to write down hers.

“There she is, pretty as ever.” Matty all but beamed, giving you a smile so bright and warm that you felt as though you needed to smack it right off of his face, astounded that he could be so bold to find it in himself to still flirt with you despite the fact that he had a girl sitting across from him. 

You didn’t even crack a smile, jaw ticking as you glared into his dark eyes that had steadily been growing with a mix of confusion and concern, his smile faltering and eyebrows slightly scrunching together at the energy that exuded from you - creating a thick tension in the air between the two of you. 

You counted to ten in your head, trying to calm yourself down before your head actually exploded.

“You’re late.” Mentally kicking yourself as you spoke without thinking, hating that you had just exposed yourself for knowing that he hadn’t shown up right at six o’ clock on the dot. Matty’s smile had upturned again, yet still hesitant considering you were still glaring at him with a look that he was thankful couldn’t kill. “Didn’t think you’d show.”

“Yeah, sorry, you can thank this one for that.” Matty laughed softly, tilting his head in the direction of the beautiful girl sitting across from him. And though you begged your eyes not to, they slid over to look at her anyway, stomach rolling with another wave of nausea as she smiled warmly at you and even gave you a soft wave. “We told her to start getting ready two hours before we had to leave and yet she didn’t listen.” Matty teased, the girl rolled her eyes and flipped him off with a smile. You were so wrapped up in watching them that you hadn’t even picked up on the fact that Matty had said we, lightheaded as you watched their interaction. “Imagine that.”

“Oh, fuck off.” The girl scoffed through a soft laugh, rolling her eyes at Matty before looking back at you with another warm smile, her brown eyes searching your face before holding out her left hand in an offer for you to take. “I’m Charli, since Matty forgot to introduce me.”

You could hear Matty scramble as you stared down at her hand, not moving a muscle. “Oh shit, sorry. It slipped my mind. This is Charli.”

You stared at her outstretched hand for a few beats of your pounding heart, eyes glued to the diamond on her finger, feeling as though your legs had been kicked out from under you. Matty was engaged? Your throat was closing in on itself, all the blood rushing to your heart to fuel the racing pace that pounded against your ribcage, tunnel vision on the diamond that sparkled under the fluorescent light of the diner.

You could feel the tension growing thicker as her hand grew tired from hanging there. You felt awful for being so blatantly rude, it wasn’t her fault, but the thought of touching her skin had the feeling of bile rising in your throat once more. 

You shifted on your feet, clearing your throat before looking back down at your notepad, resting your pen against the paper to distract yourself from watching Charli awkwardly put her hand back down. You could feel Matty’s puzzled gaze burning a hole into the side of your head, but you ignored it in favor of asking in a tight, monotone voice. “What do you want?”

You were so hyper focused on keeping your attention on the blank page before you that you jumped ever so slightly when you felt a hand graze against your shoulder, acting as warning before a man with a blonde, shaved head slipped past you and slid into the booth next to Charli - placing a kiss to the side of her head and throwing an arm over her on the back of the booth. “Sorry, I couldn’t fucking find the bathroom.” 

Oh.

You wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole, such a simple interaction that answered so many questions that had been whirling around in your mind and eased the simmering rage bubbling inside of you - replaced with embarrassment and shame for the way you had acted, you didn’t dare to look at Matty even though you could feel the burn from his stare singeing your skin. 

“So this is her, then?” Deep voice speaking across the booth to Matty, you could see his curls nodding in confirmation in your peripheral vision. Soon the man with the shaved head was turning his attention toward you, brown eyes scanning your face almost as if he was assessing you - deeming if you were worthy of his friend or not. You held your breath, white hot shame burning under your skin as you relived how you had just acted mere moments before he interrupted, feeling as though you could finally breathe when a soft smile spread over his pale face and he gave a tight nod of approval. “Hi, I’m George.” You gave him a soft smile back, the best one you could muster up while actively trying to fight against the bile climbing your throat at the thick tension between you and the man you refused to look at. 

“It’s so nice to finally meet the girl that I have heard so much about.” You could feel your cheeks heat and you weren't sure if it was from the confirmation that Matty had talked about you or out of embarrassment from before. “I mean, seriously, so much. He’s not stopped yappin’ about you since he came in for the first time.”

Now you were more sure that the pink tint on your cheeks was due to the former.

“See this?” Matty broke his silence for the first time since introducing Charli. “This is exactly the type of shit I explicitly told you not to say before we came in here.”

George and Charli laugh easily from their side of the booth, making the tension in your shoulders feel more at ease, feeling comfortable enough to laugh along softly - feeling relieved yet still not daring to glance at the boy with curly hair.

“Oh, don’t start you two.” Charli groaned through a laugh, rolling her eyes and turning her attention to you. “I’m sorry about them, they’re a handful.”

Another wave of laughter tumbled from your lips, louder this time and more carefree, at the fact that Charli sounded like she was talking about children of her own and not her fiancé and his best friend. You quickly decided that you liked his friends, especially Charli, making that hot shame burn deeper inside of you for how you had acted towards her. Opening your mouth to apologize before you could stop yourself, the guilt consuming you. 

“I’m sorry.” You swallowed thickly, giving Charli a kind smile that she returned, George looked between the two of you with deeply furrowed brows and confusion plastered on his face. “About before.” 

Charli waved you off, diamond ring flashing beautifully in the light, the sight of it not making you sick with nausea any longer. “Don’t worry about it.” She shook her head softly, giving you a kind, reassuring smile before looking at George and Matty. “I told you guys if you left me alone with Matty that she would assume we were together.” You felt the pink on your cheeks darken as she so casually called you out, glancing back over at you. “Fucking idiots, these two.”

You felt dizzy with all three of their attention now focused on you, swallowing thickly. You could feel Matty slide his foot across the floor, knocking it against your own in hopes that it would draw your eyes over to him, desperate for you to pay attention to him, to notice him. It didn’t, you couldn’t, you were far too embarrassed - only keeping your attention on George and Charli despite the insistent pressure of his foot against your own. 

“Oh, I didn’t-” You started to try and build a defense for yourself, desperate to cover up your blind jealousy, but it died in your throat when Charli fixed you with a knowing look. “Right.” You huffed, gripping the pen between your manicured fingers tighter, white knuckled as Matty’s foot ran up the side of your ankle. You clear your throat, shifting your weight between your feet and crossing the one that Matty had been messing with behind your other, hiding it away from him. “What can I get for you guys?”

You avoided the familiar booth as much as you could for the remainder of their time there, ironic considering normally you would be avoiding all your other tables just so you could linger there with Matty. So now that you were hiding out in the kitchen after dropping their food off to them, you were getting questioning stares and side eyes from your coworkers, Nick being the only one brave enough to speak up. “Is there a specific reason you’re avoiding your boyfriend?”

You groan, bringing your hands up to your face to rub it out of frustration. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Okay.” Nick spoke with caution and though you couldn’t see him, you knew he had his hands raised in defense. “Did something happen?”

“Oh yeah.” Ruth’s voice carried throughout the kitchen, the brunette talking through a stack of empty dishes, shooting the bus boy, Johnny a glare for doing his job for him. 

Nick stood up a little straighter, brows coming together to show that he was more concerned now. “He didn’t cross a line did he? He didn’t hurt you, right?” Not even waiting more than a second of your silence before he was cracking his knuckles. “I’ll fucking kill him.”

Nick was already on the move, making you groan again before calling out for him to stop. “He didn’t do anything.” 

Nick stopped, looking even more confused now. “Well, what happened then? What’s got you this upset?”

You sighed, hoisting yourself up on the squeaky clean counter, swinging your legs and playing with the loose hem hanging from the skirt of your uniform. “I ruined it.”

“Oh, please.” Ruth mocked, coming to lean on the counter you were sitting on. “You did not ruin it.” Turning her head over her shoulder to face Nick. “She did not ruin it, she’s just being dramatic.”

“I showed my ass out there.” You stressed, tossing your head back against the wall with a thud. “How fucking embarrassing.” 

“You got a little jealous, everyone does.” Ruth spoke softer now, handling you with more caution now that she knew how upset you were. “Didn’t he get jealous that time he came in and some dude was flirting with you already? He was fucking fuming in the booth. It’s normal to be stupid and jealous when there’s feelings involved.” Ruth explained. “It showed him that it’s not all one sided and that you like him just as much as he likes you.” Knocking her elbow against your knee and shrugging with a faint smirk. “He probably thought it was hot.”

You snorted, shaking your head softly against the wall. “He probably thinks I’m insane.”

“Maybe.” Ruth shrugs, knocking against your knee again to tease. “Maybe he’s into that.”

You laugh through a breathy nose, pulling on the loose thread of your uniform harder, tugging it out and freeing it from the black fabric that bounded it. “I just feel silly, I don’t know why I reacted that way.”

“It was valid.”

“It wasn’t.” You sighed. “We’re not dating, I see him once a week and flirt with him for an hour, he doesn’t belong to me. He can go out and do whatever he wants.” Your lips turning up into a scowl. “Whoever he wants.” 

“Yeah.” Ruth agrees, knocking your knee for a third time. “But he only wants you.”

You shook your head, causing Ruth to roll her eyes and look over at Nick for some help. “You’re a man, will you please tell her that if he was not obsessed with her that he would have stopped coming in July.”

Nick did the math in his head, counting back the months until he knew that July was only a month in, nodding his head in agreement. “I’ve never persuaded just a hookup with a girl I didn’t want to actually be with for longer than a couple of weeks.” Nick spoke truthful and honest, he was never one to sugar coat anything with anyone. “I mean, women are everywhere, if he just wanted pussy he could go out and find it easily.” You and Ruth chuckled softly at his choice of wording. “There is no fucking way he has been coming around for seven months just to get in your pants, it’s deeper than that.”

“See.” Ruth says confidently with a smile and a pointed look. “Now I’m about to tell you for the second time today.” Grabbing your hand and tugging you off of the counter and back onto your feet, fixing your hair of any stray fly aways much like she had before, turning you and giving you a quick slap on the ass that caused laughter to pour out of you. “Go out there and get your man.”

You were walking out of the kitchen before you could talk yourself out of it, holding on to the shred of confidence Nick had given you instead of the doubt and insecurities as your converse clad feet carried you across the black and white checkered floor on a path that you knew all too well.

You stared down at your feet for most of the walk, only looking up when you knew you were about to near the booth, heart dropping at the sight of Matty sitting alone and staring at you like he could eat you alive. 

Your heart felt as though it was going to beat out of your chest at the idea of having to face Matty alone, no one else for you to stare at like you had earlier to avoid eye contact with him, it was just you and him now.

Your tongue felt like sandpaper when you swallowed, a familiar thrum buzzing through your veins at the sight of his dark eyes drinking you in. You weren’t even fully standing next to the booth yet and Matty was already leaned back against the red leather with a smirk on his face that fueled the pounding of your heart. “Hi pretty girl.” 

It made you dizzy, how quickly the two of you fell back into things now that you were alone. Matty spoke the introduction through a smirk as if he was trying to show you how things could have gone if you hadn’t acted the way you did. 

You swallow thickly. “Hi Matty.” Shifting under his gaze. “Where’d your friends go?”

Matty checks you out unashamed, lingering on your exposed thighs. “Made ‘em leave.” Dragging up the expanse of your body to linger on the way your chest rose and fell as you breathed in and out deeply. “After the way you showed out?” Eyes that seemed darker than normal locked with your own in a heated gaze. “Wanted you all to myself.”

You blink, tilting your head to the side. “The way I showed out?” 

“Oh, don’t get all shy on me now, love.” Matty cooed. Love. That was new. You quite liked the sound of that. “You practically had steam rolling out of your ears when you first came over here.” He must have noticed the panic in your eyes at the mention of how you had acted, worried about what he may think, he was quick to assure you. “It was fucking hot, you getting all possessive over me.” Crossing his arms over his chest and shooting you a wolfish smile. “Though, I never thought I’d see a day where you got jealous.”

You scoff, feeling the need to defend yourself even though you knew he could see right through you, crossing your own arms over your chest and speaking firmly. “I wasn’t jealous.”

“Oh, please.” Matty drew out dramatically, rolling his eyes with a scoff. “You wanted to jump my bones right here in this booth just to show everyone in here who I belong to.”

You shifted on your feet, hating that Matty knew you so fucking well. You could admit it, tell him that you wanted nothing more than to crawl on his lap and allow him to finally have his way with you just so you could stake your claim over the boy you had fallen head over heels for. You could deny it, roll your eyes and call him crazy for ever even thinking that you would be jealous. Instead, you decided to ignore the jealousy element all together and focus on the big elephant in the room. “You don’t belong to me.”

A beat passes, full of nothing but locked eyes in a heated gaze and held breaths, waiting to see if the line you both had been tiptoeing around for seven months was finally about to be crossed or not. 

Matty blinks, staring directly into your eyes as he leaps over the line. “I could.”

Your breath hitches in your throat, heart pounding and ears ringing. You could feel something shift in the air through the thick tension between the two of you, you knew that Matty could feel it too, shifting from his place in the booth to scoot closer to where you were standing. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I-” You clear your throat in hopes that it would contain the ringing in your ears, the way that he was looking at you had heat swirling in your stomach and simmering through your veins, spreading throughout your whole body and making you feel woozy. “I should probably go check on my other tables.”

You swallow, ready to turn on your heels so you could put some space between the two of you, needing it so the air would actually reach your lungs - the tension between you blocked it from doing so. You made it one step before a warm hand was grabbing your wrist, not tight enough to hurt you but hard enough to stop you from leaving. The warmth from his hand only fueled the fire underneath your skin further, your tongue impossibly dry as you swallowed thickly, turning your body back around to face him, his hand lingered on your wrist despite the fact it had no reason to be there any longer.

“Wait.” His voice was more breathy than normal, you quite liked the sound of it, desperate to find a reason for you to stay. “You owe me a number.” 

You had completely forgotten that you still owed him a new digit of your phone number for this month, almost forgetting about the fact again when Matty’s thumb started to rub faint circles against your wrist, the feeling of it already had you feeling lightheaded. 

With the way he was looking up at you, dark eyes full of desperation and need, hand wrapped around your wrist and rubbing a thumb along the inside of it - you couldn’t help but tease him. “Do you think you deserve it?”

Matty’s eyes grew impossibly darker, hand tightening its hold on your wrist, blunt fingernails digging into the skin. You were sure he could feel your pounding pulse in your wrist, thankful he couldn’t feel the one in between your legs. He leaned in closer, voice low and gravely. “Remember what I said about making you eat those words, darling. You’re real bold now, I’d love to see how that holds up when I get you alone.”

The memory of the promise Matty had made to you months ago when you first started giving him a number for each and every month came rushing back to you, fueling the ache in your core as Matty's thumb traced a heart so faintly on your wrist that you thought you were imagining it.

You raised an eyebrow at him in response, not trusting your voice to actually speak anything. Matty narrowed his eyes before allowing a sly grin to spread over his pale face. “I’ll earn it, then.” You felt your eyebrows come together ever so slightly in confusion, not understanding what he meant by that, but he was quick to fill you in. “I’ll stay and help you close up and clean tonight.” Dark eyes flicked down to your mouth so quickly you almost missed it. “I’ll get on my hands and knees.”

You cursed your past self for ever informing him that you closed up the diner all by yourself any night that you worked. You were shaking your head before you even had time to clear your throat and find your voice, you knew exactly what he was doing. He knew that as soon as he got you alone, without the distraction of customers or tasks that you would lean on when things got a little too tense that there was no way in hell that you would be able to turn him down. It’s why you have avoided being alone with him for all these months, you knew you didn’t stand a chance.

You tried to speak, but it came out as nothing more than a squeak, clearing your throat to try again. “No, that’s okay. That’s not necessary.” Shaking your head with wide, panicked eyes. “I’ll just give it to you now.”

Matty smirked as he watched you scramble, knowing that he had you in the palm of his hand, literally - running his middle and ring finger in circles along the inside of your wrist. Almost as if he was imitating what he would do between your legs. You felt faint at the thought, so ready to just throw caution to the wind and take him right here in the booth in front of everyone.

It was a position he had put you in more times than you could count, nearly giving in to him, only to be left disappointed when you walked away from him. Matty wasn’t going to let that happen, not this time. He could feel that this was the big moment he had so desperately been waiting for for months now and he intended on capitalizing on it, desperate to get his way this time or he might implode. 

“No, really.” Matty trails off in favor of slowing the circle his two fingers were swirling around your wrist, rubbing them up and down in a straight line before pushing down on your pulse point with them. “I insist.”

The action took your breath away, hitching in your throat with a faint gasp that was like music to Matty’s ears, a wolfish grin taking over his face at the sound. You were sure he was imitating what he would do between your legs now, you throbbed at the thought, desperate to feel his hands that you had been so obsessed with for so long running all over your body, trailing down between your legs, collecting the arousal that you know had already started to pool there before sliding in - 

“You should probably go check on those tables now.” Matty winked, releasing his hold on your wrist all together. “Don’t want to keep anyone waiting.”

You nodded slowly, feet glued to their spot on the floor, scared that if you moved that you would melt away from the fire that burned beneath your skin. “Okay.”

And then you were turning on your heels, walking away from the booth on wobbly legs, desperate to catch some air down to your lungs. 

You were so fucking screwed. 

—

Matty lingered in his booth for the remainder of the night, busying himself with his phone or chatting up elderly women that approached him. You tried not to focus on him and instead gave all your attention to the people that passed through the diner in the remaining hours it was open, ignoring the looks from Ruth you got anytime you passed by her, you didn’t feel like explaining to her or anyone why Matty hadn’t left yet. You weren’t even quite sure if you had an answer. 

You felt more and more nervous as the time on the clock inched closer and closer to closing time, swallowing a lump in your throat when Tony tossed you the keys. “You can lock up when he leaves.”

You nodded, glancing at Matty who was drinking a chocolate milkshake you had passed him half an hour ago, drinking it ever so slowly to try and milk an excuse to stay as everyone else filtered out. 

And then the two of you were alone. 

You were quick to get to work, knowing that if you stopped moving for even half a second that Matty would be on you and you wouldn’t be able to resist. 

You were wiping down tables, back turned to the man that you could hear drying off coffee cups and stacking them neatly on the counter up front. It was nice, not being alone here so late for once, to have help. You were surprised that Matty was actually being helpful, convinced that he had just used it as a line to get you alone and while you were still positive that that was exactly what he had done, at least he was being helpful. 

You finished wiping down the table you were working on, turning your head to glance at Matty over your shoulder. Like a moth drawn to a flame, Matty’s dark eyes immediately found home against your own from across the restaurant, both of you fighting off a smile as you turned away. 

You shook your head softly as you made your way to the booth that Matty had claimed as his own all those months ago, a pink tint on your cheeks as you sprayed over the surface, bending over the table slightly so you could wipe it down - avoiding the chocolate milkshake that Matty had left behind, the glass starting to collect condensation in a ring against the table. You huffed, picking the cup up and wiping away the mess underneath it. 

You held the forgotten milkshake between manicured fingers, standing up, ready to chastise the man for not cleaning up after himself. Turning around with a complaint on your tongue but it died on the tip of it as you were immediately met with the sight of Matty standing in front of you, so close that the tips of his shoes were brushing against your own. You gripped the glass between your fingers tighter to stop yourself from dropping the milkshake to the floor from the way his sudden presence startled you. “Sorry.”

You gulp, staring up at him. When did he get so tall? You were so used to looking down at him sitting in the booth that the height difference had you craning your neck so you could face him, a wave of heat whirling through you at the smell of the cigarette break he had taken earlier still lingering on his clothes. You whisper because that’s how loud you needed to be for him to hear you. “It’s okay.”

Matty grabbed the milkshake from your hand, fingers brushing against your own and lingering for a passing beat before they were gone so he could place the milkshake down on the table behind him. You wanted to complain about how you had just cleaned that table off, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care, not when he was staring down at you like he could eat you alive. 

Matty glances over your shoulder, dark eyes glimmering with warning signs as his lips raised in the faintest of smirks. “You missed a spot.”

You gulp, positive that you hadn’t. But there was this underlying need burning inside of you to be good for him, to please. You swallowed thick and hard, staring up at him for a beat before turning around and slowly bending back over the table to wipe it down again, well aware of his burning gaze that fell to the newly exposed skin as your skirt raised from the position you were in. You wiped the surface of the table slowly, allowing him to savor the sight of you bent over in front of him before standing back up and turning around to face him again.

Matty’s eyes were blown out, dark as ever, swimming in desire - a similar feeling thrumming through your veins at the sight. You could feel your resolve getting weaker and weaker with each passing second, crumbling like the ground beneath you as Matty's dark eyes pinned you to the floor. You knew this would happen, impossible to resist him if you had no distractions or excuses to leave. But you still liked to believe that you had some sort of control over the situation, knowing the only way you could keep that control was if you put some distance between the two of you. 

You cleared your throat, stepping off to the side and avoiding eye contact. The action made Matty snort. “I thought we were done pretending.”

Your voice was meek, wavering and breathy as you took another faint step backwards. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“When are you going to give it up?” Matty took a step closer to you, you took another back, could feel the red leather of the edge of the booth grazing against your back. You brought your eyebrows together, crossing your arms over your chest as Matty narrows his dark eyes filled with desire. “This act you’ve got going on where you pretend you don’t want me just as bad as I want you.” Taking another step forward that had you backing up to be flush against the edge of the booth. “I see right through you, I know you fucking want me.” Reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You’ve got nowhere to run and hide now, darling. Just admit it.”

You use what little leverage you have with his arm up to slide underneath it, slipping into the booth and backing up into it, legs drawn up to your chest as you leaned back on both hands against the leather of the booth - sitting in it sideways so you could face the man who was staring down at you like he had you exactly where he wanted you. 

Matty took a step forward, his knees hitting the side of the booth you were sitting in, you couldn’t stop your eyes from trailing down the expanse of his body like he always did so unashamed with your own. Your tongue growing drier the further down his torso you got, gulping when your eyes landed on the bulge against the denim, eye level. If you were to scoot closer you could easily undo the button of his jeans and take him out so you could wrap your lips around - 

Matty placed one of his veiny hands against the top of the table, ready to steady himself as he raised a knee to the booth, ready to crawl into it with you. You gulped at the sight, scooting back ever so slightly as his other hand reached out to take hold of one of your calves, gently squeezing it before pulling it forward so that it was no longer bent up to your chest.

Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched him maneuver you to be exactly how he wanted you, making it so easy for him,  showing no resistance at all. Matty repeated the action with the other leg, spreading your legs out until they were no longer bent and instead straight against the booth, feet hanging off the side of it and in between his legs as you stared up at him with a pounding heart and throbbing core. 

Matty placed his knee more firmly in the booth, now that he had the room to, the denim of his jeans scratched against your ankle as he leaned forward. 

“Matty.” You warned, voice breathless and desperate. Not even bothering to scoot back, you knew you had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. 

“What, darling?” Matty’s voice was deep, gravely, spoken through a wolfish grin as he crawled into the booth with you. “I won’t bite.”

You gulped, watching him intently as he crawled over you in the cramped space of the booth, the only option to put space between the two of you was to lay back against the booth. You lowered yourself against the red leather and Matty followed, taking his hand off the table in favor of placing it down next to your head, settling above you comfortably and  staring down at you with eyes that you could deem as nothing but black as your breath mixed together in hot, breathy pants. 

Matty’s eyes flickered down to your lips, his tongue reaching out to wet his own. “Tell me you don’t want me.” His voice so deep it was barely there. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

You gulp, shifting against the booth and brushing your thigh against the bulge in his denim, Matty pulled his bottom lip between his teeth at the feeling. Matty stared down at you, allowing nothing but the sound of your breath mixing to bounce against the walls of the diner, giving you time to tell him no. When you didn’t take the bait, Matty smirked, leaning down close enough that a curl that had fallen over was brushing against your forehead. You squirmed against the booth as the silence rang in your ears, driving you insane, wishing that he would say something because you were positive that you couldn’t. 

“Tell me you want me.” Matty begged, bringing his hips down to roll against your own so faint that it did nothing to pleasure either of you, but the action still had you gasping regardless - clenching around nothing and arousal pooling in your underwear. “Right here in this booth and you can have me, darling.” Your core clenches at the nickname. “Or I can leave and we can act like this never happened.”  

You're breathless, still trying to find your voice as Matty’s eyes search your face, lingering on your lips so long that it had you squirming against the red leather of the booth again. Matty takes your silence as rejection, starting to move up, the cold air hitting your face from the lack of his own felt like a cold bucket of water crashing into you, waking you up and making you realize that Matty was about to leave and that simply would not do. 

You grab his face between your palms, pulling him back down over you, where he belongs, crashing your lips against his own in a frantic kiss that already had you feeling hazy minded. It took Matty all of two seconds to register what was happening, quick to match the heat behind your lips and taking control of the kiss, as he did with everything.

You moan into his mouth, Matty took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, exploring you and nipping your own between his teeth before sucking your bottom lip back until he released it with a pop - only to dive right back in to kiss you with all the passion and desperation that had been building up for months and months. 

You threaded your manicured nails through his dark curls, scratching against his scalp softly as you tried your best to keep up with the bruising kiss, swallowing a groan that Matty spilled into your mouth. And oh, did you love the sound of that. 

Desperate to hear more from him, you raised your hips hoping that he would grind down on you again, Matty bites your bottom lip particularly hard at the feeling, licking over it to soothe the ache that shot down to your core.

You force Matty to swallow a whine, digging your nails through his curls and tugging on them, earning you another deep groan falling from Matty's mouth and flowing into yours. The sound had you kissing him with more fever, desperate and whining into his mouth, licking along his bottom lip before whispering against his lips. “Want you.”

Matty smiles into the kiss, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth and pulling back until it releases with a pop, this time he didn’t dive back in - instead choosing to stare down at you as he caught his breath. 

Your pants mixed together as you stared at one another, desperation dripping in the thick tension of the booth. Your fingers lingered in his curls, giving them a faint tug as you pulled your own bottom lip between your teeth, already raw and swollen from the searing kiss Matty had fixed you with. Matty’s eyes flickered down at the sight, licking his own as he stared before locking his eyes back with your own, a smug smirk starting to creep onto his face.

“Yeah? You want me, baby?” Matty’s voice so deep, full of need and desire. The new pet name had you tugging on his curls once more with a whine, nodding your head against the red leather of the booth, desperate for him to touch you. Matty’s smirk deepened at your reaction to the new nickname, leaning down to kiss you again, mumbling against your lips. “Want me to what?”

You whine, pitiful and desperate, digging your nails against his scalp and earning you a nip at your lip. Matty numbed your mind as he kissed you slow, full of tongue and shared groans.

“Tell me, baby.” You swallow his words that reverberated against your lips, Matty pulled away with a teasing, dangerous look in his eyes. “You want me to leave?”

You whine at the thought, tugging on his hair when he made a show of starting to sit up again, forcing him back down into a searing kiss. “I want to hear you say it.” Matty groans, nipping your bottom lip with his teeth. “Tell me how you want me.”

You couldn’t find the words, whining and squirming in hopes that that would be enough, only finding your voice when Matty pulled away from the kiss again. “Please.”

You hoped the plea would be enough to get his hands on you, you were desperate and aching, the throb between your thighs begging for attention. Matty hummed, tracing his thumb along your bottom lip, smearing some of the mixed spit along your chin. 

“I don’t know what you want unless you tell me, darling.” Matty coos through a smirk. You whine, knowing that he knew exactly what you wanted, he just wanted to hear you say it. “I can’t read your mind.”

You tugged him back down against your mouth, a shared groan mixing before you both swallowed your share of it, tongues exploring one another. Your brain felt like it was melting out of your eyes at the way Matty kissed you, so full of passion and desire. It took one last tug of your bottom lip between his teeth before you mumbled against his lips what he so desperately had been wanting to hear for seven months now. “Fuck me, Matty. Please.”

Matty groaned into your mouth one last time, biting your lip so rough that you feared that it might be bleeding before pulling away and scrambling off of you so fast that you didn’t have time to register that he was off of you until he was grabbing your hips and pulling you down to the edge of the booth. 

You yelp as he manhandled you from his place on his knees on the black and white checkered tile - running his large, warm, addicting hands up the expanse of your thighs. You leaned up on your elbows so you could watch him, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as he peppered a trail of kisses along the inside of your thighs, licking and grazing his teeth against the skin every so often just so he could hear you gasp. 

Matty’s long fingers slipped under the skirt of your uniform, tickling along the waistband of your underwear before hooking in the band of them. You gasp, nerves shooting through you. “You don’t have to.”

This wasn’t your first rodeo, you had been with a list of men prior to Matty and they were all the same, huffing when you asked them to go down on you - ridiculous that you even had to ask, always acting as though it was a chore. You didn’t want Matty to feel like he had to, you weren’t expecting him to, you’d take anything he’d give you.

Matty pulled back the band of your underwear far enough to release it against your skin with a harsh snap, making you hiss as he bit the inside of your thigh as the stunt wore off.

“Do you know how fucking long I’ve wanted to be between your legs?” Matty mumbles against the skin of your inner thigh, licking along a stripe of skin befire digging his teeth in as he hooked his fingers back into the waistband of your underwear. “Dreamed about it every single night for seven months.” Slowly starting to drag them down your thighs as you hold your breath in your throat. “Dreaming of how you’d taste.” Matty whispered, biting softly into your thigh once more before leaning back so he could drag your underwear down your legs the rest of the way, quick to dive back down and lick a long strip up your thigh, stopping right before where you wanted him most. “How you’d feel falling apart on my tongue.”

“Matty.” You whine as he settles between your thighs, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and pushing the other one to open wider for him, giving him more space to make himself more at home on the floor between your legs. “Please. Need you so bad.”

Matty coos, blowing against your core and drinking in the sight of the way you trembled after. “You made me wait months for this and you can’t even wait five fucking minutes.” 

You whine, trying to pull him into you with the leg he had hooked over his shoulder, Matty pinched your hip meanly in return. Squirming against the red leather of the booth, you whine. “Matty.”

“Look at you.” Matty coos. “Haven’t even touched you properly yet and you already sound so pretty for me.”

You preen at his words, tightening your leg around his shoulder out of desperation. This time, however, Matty allows you to pull him into you - your head falling back against the red leather of the booth as his tongue falls out to lick a strip up the middle of your core. 

Matty groans against your folds, the vibrations intensifying the feeling as Matty swirled his tongue, exploring you and moaning at the taste. 

You couldn't lay still, heat already spreading through your veins so rapidly and lighting your skin on fire. You moan freely, breathy through pants as Matty swirls his tongue against your bundle of nerves. 

Matty pulls off long enough to whisper, “You taste,” Diving back in to lick a thick stripe through your folds, moaning against your cunt before pulling back enough to finish his sentence. “so fucking good.” Collecting your arousal with slow, flat strokes. Taking his time with you. “Better than I could have ever imagined.”

You preen at the compliment, a pretty pink blush taking over your cheeks as you squirm against the leather and moaning out. “More.”

Matty pulls off instead, chin wet with a pout, resting his head against your thigh as he catches his breath. “Let me take my time with you, baby.” You whine. “Been waiting for this for so fucking long. Gotta cherish it while I have you.” Matty explains, peppering wet kisses along the inside of your thigh, your arousal drying in the trail as he slowly made his way back to where you wanted him most - mumbling against your thigh. “What if I never get to have you like this ever again? Gotta make it last.”

You whine, squirming. You didn’t like the sound of that, of this being the only time, appalled that he could ever even assume that. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” You whine. “Only you.”

“Yeah?” You could feel Matty’s smile against your thigh. “Only me? I get you all to myself?” You nod, desperate and dripping against the booth, rolling your hips in hopes to find some form of friction only to be stopped by Matty’s hands holding you down. “That’s right, baby. All for me. Only ever me.”

You nod, a broken moan tumbling from your lips as Matty dives back in with a fire under his ass now, the idea of you belonging to him fueling the need to have you falling apart underneath him.

You reached down to take hold of one of his hands that held down your hips, he was quick to thread it with your own, holding onto it as he ate you out like a starved man. 

Matty moans against you, pushing the leg that wasn’t thrown over his shoulder more open so he’d have more room to work. “So pretty.” Matty mumbled against your cunt, pulling off with a kiss to your clit. “Pretty girl, pretty pussy.” He fits his lips around your clit and sucks, a broken moan ripped from your throat at the feeling, lifting your hips slightly and smearing more wetness across his chin. 

You could feel a familiar heat coiling in your stomach, shocked to feel it so soon. Gasping as his tongue slipped inside of you, nose brushing against your clit and causing your eyes to roll back into your skull. “Matty, fuck, I’m close.”

Matty doubled his efforts on you at your words, tongue fucking into you, sliding out so he could suck your bundle of nerves into his mouth, grazing his teeth against it ever so slightly and causing your hips to just. “Give it to me.” Matty mumbles against your cunt, the vibrations causing your eyes to roll back in your skull once more. “Cum for me, baby. Wanna feel you fall apart on my tongue.”

You whine, swallowing thickly as Matty doubled his efforts on your clit, tongue swiping across it in a pace that had you gripping his hand in your own in a tight squeeze that mirrored the squeeze of your thigh around his head. Matty sucked the bundle of nerves into his mouth one last time before you were crashing and burning against his tongue. 

Matty smiled against your cunt as you fell apart under him, body trembling and moaning his name like it was gospel as Matty continued to lick and suck his way through your high, only pulling off when your legs stopped convulsing in favor of laying slack and restless from the intensity of your orgasm. 

Matty didn’t let you bask in the glow for long, wiping his wet chin with the back of his hand before grabbing the leg that wasn’t thrown over his shoulder in his hand, slowly pushing it up and not stopping the journey until it was hooked over the back of the booth - his dark eyes drinking in the sight of you on full display for him, cunt still fluttering from the crash and burn it just endured.  

You were sure that he was going to stand up, get ready to fuck you, so you couldn’t help but allow your eyebrows to scrunch together when you felt him lean in and lick a slow, thick strip up your fluttering cunt.

“Matty.” You whine with a pout, so desperate to feel him inside of you. “Want you to fuck me.”

“I know, pretty baby.” Matty coos against your folds, swirling his tongue over your swollen clit before placing a soft kiss against it, pulling away and resting his head against your thigh. “You tasted so good, sounded so pretty for me, baby, I just want to do it one more time.” You whine, squirming against the red leather of the booth. “Will you let me do that, baby? Then I promise to give you what you want.” 

Matty trailed two fingers down from your hip, blunt nails scratching against your hot skin ever so slightly on their journey down between your thighs, running them through your folds to collect the wetness there before resting them against your entrance. You felt lightheaded at the feeling of his long, thick, calloused fingers teasing against your hole that clenched in anticipation - rolling your hips to try and force them inside of you. 

Matty grazes his teeth against the inside of your thigh, sticking his tongue out to lick his way back home to your cunt, swirling around your clit as he slowly pushes two of his fingers inside of you. You gasped at the stretch, holding the gasp in the back of your throat as Matty bottoms them out to his knuckles, slowly swirling a tongue against your swollen, sensitive clit as he allowed you to get used to the stretch. He waited until you were rolling your hips out of desperation for him to move before he pulled his fingers out of you just as slowly as he entered, your walls clenching from the emptiness as he pulled out, teeth grazing against your clit as he slowly pushed back in - halting once he pushed up to his knuckles. 

“Matty.” You groan, rolling your head against the booth and palming your breasts over your uniform, so much tension built up inside of you that you needed to find a way to release it. “More.”

Matty smiled against your folds, sucking your clit into his mouth and pulling back until it slipped from between his lips, locking eyes with you before dribbling spit from his mouth and onto your cunt, all over his fingers. You whine at the obscene sight before you, clenching around his unmoving fingers and rolling your hips, desperate to feel mind numbing pleasure like before.

Matty leaned back down to lick his spit mixed with your slick, tip of his perfect nose rubbing against your clit as he licked around his unmoving fingers. “Matty.” You whine, so desperate for him to move, the feeling of being so full with no reward was making you lightheaded. “Fuck me. Please.”

That seemed to be what Matty was waiting on, shifting on his knees on the floor beneath him before fucking into you in a pace that had you throwing your head back against the booth and whining through desperate gasps of air, none of it actually reaching your lungs as Matty fucked you hard and fast - the wet sounds that filled the diner were nothing but pornographic as your moans mixed together in a beautiful symphony of lust and desire. 

“Fuck.” You cry, eyes rolling back when Matty’s impossibly long fingers curled, hitting that heavenly spot inside of you that had you moaning his name like it was all you knew. 

Matty smiled against your cunt, swirling his tongue around your clit as your walls fluttered around his fingers, relishing in the sounds you were making for him - feeling drunk on pussy, your breathy moans and addictive whines. 

You rolled your hips down, grinding on his face and meeting some of his thrusts when your paces aligned just right. Matty doubled his efforts on you, could tell that you were close by the way you were clenching around him, sucking your clit between his lips and curling his fingers perfectly. You didn’t even have time to give him a verbal warning this time before you were crashing and burning, skin on fire as your body shook against the booth with the intensity of your orgasm.

Matty fucked you through your high, not as fast as he had been but still enough to prolong it, moaning against your cunt as your aftershocks rolled through you. You whined pitifully, sensitive and exhausted. 

Matty placed one last kiss to your clit before slowly pulling his fingers out of you, turning his head to suck a bruise into your inner thigh as he stretched his arm up to your mouth so you could suck his fingers coated in your slick into your mouth, you moan around his digits pornographically, swirling your tongue around them as Matty groaned against your thigh at the feeling.

Matty pulled off of your thigh when he was satisfied with the deep purple bruise that he had sucked into it, trailing open mouth kisses up the expanse of it as he made his way up from his knees. Kissing along your arms, the side of your neck, before slipping his fingers from your mouth in favor of gripping your jaw with them - your spit smearing against your chin as Matty pulled you in for a hungry kiss. 

You liked how you tasted on his tongue even better than his fingers, moaning into his mouth as he kissed you with fever, gripping your jaw tight as he pulled off to lick down the side of your neck - forcing it to the side so he could kiss up it with more room. Grazing his teeth against your pulse points and licking a thick strip up the side of it until he reached your ear lobe, pulling it between his teeth and breathing hotly into your ear before whispering. “You did so fucking good for me, pretty baby.” You whine at the praise, preening underneath him and clenching around nothing. “Such a good girl, you want me to fuck you?”

You thrashed against the red leather of the booth, clenching and pleading for him. Matty smiled down at you, undressing you from your uniform, tossing it behind him before hooking his arms around you and lifting you up, splaying you out on the table of the booth rather than the seat of it - a better angle for him considering the table was the same height as his hips. You gasped at the cold feeling of the table against your naked back, writhing against the table as Matty trailed his calloused fingers along your thighs, splaying his hand out on it and spreading your legs wider for him. 

“You ready for me, baby?” He dragged two of his fingers through the wetness of your folds, your body jolted at the feeling, so sensitive from already having two orgasms. Matty smiled down at you, condescending and powerful. “Think you can handle it?”

“Yes.” You whined, so desperate for it. Watching Matty undo his jeans through half lidded eyes, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as you watched his skilled fingers slide down the zipper of the denim, dragging his hand into his boxers to take hold of himself but not revealing it to you. Putting on a show as he tipped his head back in a groan, wetting his bottom lip with his tongue as he pulled strokes over himself inside of the black cotton. You weren’t sure whether to watch his face as he pumped himself or stare at the movement hidden behind the boxers, imagining what it might look like. “Yes, I can handle it. Matty, please. Fuck me, please.” 

You trailed off pleading, Matty smirked through it all, continuing to stroke himself beneath the band of his boxers for a few more strokes before pulling himself out of confinement. You moaned at the sight as Matty hissed from the cold air hitting him. Your eyes drank in the sight of his hand wrapped around himself, passing over the length and squeezing when he got close to the tip. 

You were panting, maybe you were drooling too, you weren’t sure - so desperate for him to fuck you that you couldn’t find it in you to care. “Matty, please.”

A smirk that could only be read as dangerous spread across Matty’s face as he took a step forward, running his tip through your folds once, the feeling already had your eyes rolling back into your skull and he hadn’t even started pushing in yet. Matty held his tip at your entrance, barely dipping into it before leaning over your body that writhed against the table, rolling your hips desperately to try to bring him deeper inside of you. Matty tsked, kissing up the expanse of your neck, digging his canine teeth into the side of it before whispering in your ear. “Do you think you deserve it?”

You whine, pitiful and desperate. Finally fulfilling his promise of making you eat those words that you had continuously teased him with time after time, cursing yourself for ever muttering the words now that he was throwing them back in your face. You writhed against the cool table, rolling your head to the side to capture his mouth in a dirty kiss that you hoped would convince him. 

Matty’s tongue rolled against your own in a numb numbing fashion, melting your brain out of your ears as he grinded down out of instinct, pushing his tip ever so slightly further inside of you but not near enough to give you the stretch that you needed. 

“Do you?” Matty mumbled against your lips, tugging on your bottom lip with his teeth, pulling it back and releasing it with a pop, staring down at you with dark eyes that held all the power in the world. “After turning me down for months, you want me to give you what you want the first time you ask for it?” Matty’s smile is condescending, leaning back so he could look down at you on display for him, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he ran his tip through your folds once more. “Greedy fucking girl.”

“Matty.” You whine, throbbing and aching for something, anything. Matty pulls away from you all together, taking a slight step backwards and back to start stroking himself again slowly, you whine at the loss. 

“I want to hear you beg for it.” Matty’s voice was rough, deep, commanding. “You made me beg for months, I want to hear you beg for my cock.” You whine, his words shot straight down to your core. “Beg for it because you could have had it this entire time.” You felt silly for ever rejecting him now that you knew he had a mouth like this on him. Matty reached down to grip your jaw between his thumb and middle finger, running his pointer along your bottom lip, pushing it past your lips that were a darker shade than normal from being kissed and bitten raw. You accepted the finger happily, humming around the digit as your tongue swirled. Matty groaned, tightening his hold on your jaw. “But you wanted to be stubborn, isn’t that right, darling?”

You nodded with his finger in your mouth, grazing your teeth against his digit before slurring your pleas around it. “Please, please, fuck me. I need you so bad. Please.”

Matty it was the way it all came out in a garbled mess, or maybe it was how pretty you looked with your bitten raw lips wrapped around his finger but it was probably the fact that Matty had been waiting for this moment for seven months now - pulling his bottom lip between his teeth before lining himself up and slowly pushing into you. His groan mixed together with your whine in a beautiful harmony as he bottomed out inside of you, hissing as he did so. “Fuck, so fucking tight around me. Shit.”

Your mouth was hanging open, eyebrows scrunched together as you adjusted to the stretch of him inside of you, already feeling so full and skin on fire. You clench around him, both of you falling into a groan at the feeling. “Fuck.”

Matty held a vice grip on your hip as he slowly pulled out of you, the drag against your walls mind numbing, not wasting any time to slide back into you in a pace just as slow. “You feel so fucking good wrapped around me, baby, fuck. So fucking good for me, you’re doing so good.” 

You preen under the praise, clenching your walls around him and begging him to go faster. Matty was quick to accommodate you, pulling out just as slow as he had before to just the tip before snapping his hip back into you. You rolled your head to the side at the feeling of him properly fucking you now, eyes fluttering shut from the overwhelming feeling of his hips slamming against your own - breathy moans mixed with the slapping of skin and filling the vacant diner. 

Matty’s hand found home back against your jaw, gripping it and forcing your head back straight. “Look at me.” You struggled to open your eyes, the lids fighting to close again as the pleasure bloomed behind them. “Want you to watch me make you fall apart on my cock.”

You whine, pitiful as ever, clenching around him and making his hips stutter in the process but he was quick to regain his footing. “Fuck, I dreamed of the day I’d get to have you like this, fucking purring underneath me and taking me so well. Just like you were made for me.”  His hips picked up in pace, mind numbing and overwhelming. “Would have laid you out on this table that very first night if you had let me, I wanted to. It’s all I thought about for the entire week, I didn’t sleep a wink. I knew I had to come back for more. Fuck.” Matty groaned, thrusting into you harder now. “Every time I saw you hike your little skirt up before walking over to me, I just wanted to bend you over this booth and take you in front of everyone in that diner to see.” 

You whine at the thought, wrapping your legs around his waist and tugging him in closer to you, making him fuck you with a new angle that was impossibly deeper - hitting that heavenly spot inside of you with each thrust and making your eyes roll back into your skull. “Oh my god.” 

“But they’ll never see you fall apart like I do, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” Blunt fingernails digging into your hip as he railed into you with a pace that took your breath away. “I’m the only one who gets to hear your pretty little moans.” The mention of them had him pulling one out of you. Matty leaned back to watched the way he fucked you, drunk on the sight of his dick disappearing inside of you. “The only one who gets to feel this pretty pussy throbbing around ‘em.”

A broken moan rips from your throat at his filthy words, writhing against the table with a gasp when his calloused fingers find home against your clit, rubbing tight circles against the swollen and sensitive bundle of nerves. You could already feel that familiar coil tightening inside of you, could tell Matty was getting close too by the way his hips faltered. 

“Fuck, baby.” Matty groans, fingers flying across your clit as his hips slammed into you. “I’m so fucking close.” You nodded in agreement, could feel your toes growing numb from how hard you were curling them as the pleasure bloomed through you and lit your skin on fire. “Where do you want me?”

“Inside.” You whine, clenching around him at the thought, wanting nothing more than to feel his cum dripping out of you when this was all over with. “Wanna feel you.”

“Fuck, yeah?” Matty hissed, fucking into you impossibly quicker now, causing your head to fall back in a groan. “You want me to fill you up, baby?” You nod, desperate and on the brink of tipping over the edge. “Yeah? Want me to make you all mine?” 

Fuck. You loved the sound of that, being all Matty’s. “Please.”

“Okay, pretty girl.” Matty promised, pressing harder against your clit. “Need you to cum for me first, though. Can you do that for me? I know you can, you’re such a good girl.”

Your mouth dropped open in a gasp that turned into a moan mixed whine of his name as you barreled closer and closer to your inevitable end. You could feel electricity coursing through your veins, igniting the coil that was tightening in your stomach.

“Show me how good you can be, darling.” Matty encourages you, fingers flying against your clit and snapping his hips into you at a mind numbing pace. “Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my cock, make a fucking mess.”

You couldn’t even make any sounds as your third orgasm crashed into you, the most intense one yet. Your walls clenching and fluttering around him as the dam snapped inside of you, immense, indescribable pleasure flooding under your overheated skin as Matty fucked you through your high. 

A breathy whine tumbled from Matty’s lips that he was biting raw from the feeling of you falling apart on him, overwhelmed and so close to the edge himself. You were panting, desperate to catch your breath as your aftershock rolled through you, mustering up what little energy you could find to reach your hands up so you could hold his face in your own, pulling it down to melt against your own. 

You both were rather useless in the kiss, but it didn’t matter, both of you needing to feel their lips against the other to feel more grounded, panting into each other's mouths as Matty’s hips stuttered as you licked lazy along his bottom lip. “Wanna feel you, please.” Matty groaned, nipping at your bottom lip as he slammed into you, chasing his release. “Come on, give me what I want. Cum in me, Matty.”

A broken whine ripped from Matty’s throat as his face broke out in pleasure, two more thrusts and he was spilling inside of you. “Shit - oh, fuck baby. Oh my god.”

A lazy smile spread over your face with a faint moan tumbling from your lips at the feeling of Matty filling you up. Making you his. Finally. 

Matty fell over you, fucking into you lazily as he rode out his high, whining into your ear and nibbling on the lobe until he was done crashing and burning. The two of you laid wrapped up in one another for what felt like hours, mixing breathy pants and sweat as you relished in the feeling of finally being able to do what should have been done that first night he walked in. 

Matty kissed behind your ear, starting a lazy trail along the side of your neck, across your jaw, around to your chin before eventually finding home against your mouth and melting against one another. 

You weren’t too sure how long the two of you were wrapped up in lazy tongues and hushed whispers, all you knew was it felt like a lifetime, never wanting the moment to come to an end but knowing it had to eventually. 

After a few more shared kisses and whispered compliments, Matty was slowly pulling out of you, an action you both hissed at. You whined at the empty feeling, eyes rolling back slightly at the feeling of him starting to drip out of you. You stared at Matty through half lidded eyes as he leaned back to watch the way his cum slowly dripped out of your core, mesmerized with a smirk playing on his lips. 

Matty couldn’t help but drag two of his fingers through the mess, making you whimper from the sensitivity as he collected his cum mixed with your juices on two of his fingers, staring into your eyes as he stuck his tongue out to clean his digits off - groaning at the taste with a roll of his dark eyes. 

You squirmed as you watched the obscenity unfold before you, swallowing thickly and wishing you knew what the mix of you tasted like. Almost as if he had read your mind, Matty hummed. “You wanna taste, darling?”

You nodded, desperate and whining. Matty nodded with a smirk. “Open up then.”

You were quick to open your jaw, sticking your tongue out, staring at him with doe eyes as he groaned at the sight - quick to collect more of his cum that had dripped out of you and mixed with your own leftover arousal. You expected Matty to bring his fingers up to your mouth so you could suck them clean, so you were confused when he brought them up to his own mouth, sticking his tongue out in a pornographic way to lick them clean. 

You watched him intently as he stared down at you with a shameless smirk, heat swirling in your stomach as he leaned down, gripping your jaw between his wet fingers and spitting the load into your mouth. You whined at the action, eyes rolling back in your skull as your tongue got coated in a mix of shared cum and Matty’s spit. “Swallow.” 

You didn’t hesitate, closing your mouth and swallowing it down in one go, you could feel it burning the entire way down. “Good girl.” Matty coos, tracing a finger along your bottom lip softly. “Now, let's get you all cleaned up.”

—

You were leaning against the side of your car, Matty towered over you with his hand on your hood, a playful, flirtatious smile playing on both of your lips - shy and high on shared feelings and emotions. “I guess I’ll see you in a week then.”

Matty’s smile deepens. “Yeah, I guess so.” Leaning in to kiss your forehead softly before capturing your lips next. You hummed against his warm mouth, feeling as though you were floating on cloud nine. “Thanks for the number, by the way. Only three more to go.”

You smiled wide with pink cheeks, recalling back to the number you had written next to the already existing ones. 822-993 and a bright new 1 making home amongst the others. “Yeah, well, you earned it.”

Matty snorts, shaking his head and laughing into your hair as he places a kiss to the side of your head. “I’ll see you around, love.”

You nodded your head, allowing him to open the door to your car for you so you could slide in, his hand lingering on the open door as you buckled yourself in. “Goodbye, Matty.”

“Bye, darling.”

—

You weren’t expecting to see Matty for another week, expecting to fall back easily into your regular routine with one another, so you were surprised to come out of the kitchen the following afternoon and see Matty sitting in his regular booth with his hand folded against the table, thrumming his fingers alongside the back of them as he waited patiently for you.

You felt your brows furrow together in confusion as your converse clad feet carried you across the black and white tile of the all too familiar booth, memories of the night before burned behind your eyelids the closer you got to it. “Are you confused?”

Matty must have been so deep in thought that he hadn’t even noticed your presence, jumping slightly at the sound of your voice but quickly recovering with an easy smile spreading over his face at the sight of you. “No, why?”

“Well,” You tilted your head to the side. “It's Thursday, you saw me yesterday, you couldn’t possibly want to eat another burger so soon.”

Matty’s smile quickly faded into a smirk as he looked you up and down, undressing you with his eyes - an action he had done more times than you could count, yet now he actually knew what was hidden underneath. “A burger? No.” Matty shook his head, locking eyes with you and raising a brow. “You on the other hand, I’d love to take another bite of.”

You blushed easily, unashamed to show how his words affected you after the events that unfolded the previous night. “What would you like to order then?” You spoke easy and unwavering, pulling your notepad and pen from your apron to take down his order for the first time in months, fixing the man with a look to stop the joke before it even had the opportunity to leave his mouth. “I’m not on the menu.”

Matty tsked, snapping his fingers together out of disappointment and causing a soft giggle to pour from you. “Well, I guess just get me some pancakes then if I can’t have what I really want.” Matty sighed, dramatic as ever, you shook your head as you continued to giggle. 

“You got it.” 

Thursdays were more busy than Wednesdays, meaning that you barely had time to listen to what new creative pick up lines Matty could come up with on the spot, apologizing with a sad smile when you came to deliver his check. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Matty waves it off, smiling and eyes gleaming. “Just happy to get to see my girl any chance I get.”

You blush hard and fast, dropping your head to hide your face as best as you could. His girl. You quite liked the sound of that and how easy it fell from his tongue, making you feel more confident about what you had written on the bottom of his receipt, sliding it over to him and  fighting off a smile as Matty read over it - his thick eyebrows coming together in the confused way that you expected them to.

“Is there a specific reason that you wrote 670 on the bottom of this?” Matty questioned, eyes still glued to the numbers you had etched in black ink before walking over here. “I mean, clearly there is because there's a heart next to them.” Matty spoke his thought process outloud, causing you to snort through a laugh. He looked up at you with soft but puzzled eyes. “What does this mean?”

You shrug, smiling innocently. “Oh, I don’t know.” You drew out, batting your eyelashes and rocking back and forth on your feet. “Maybe you should combine them with some other numbers you have sitting in your wallet.”

The grin that spread across Matty’s face split it in two, a pink tint overtaking his own cheeks as he stared down at the final three digits of your phone number in disbelief. “I can’t believe this is real.” Scratching the back of his head before raising it in the air in a fist, pumping it in celebration. “We fucking did it, boys!”

You thought that he was just being silly, but you were surprised and shocked to hear hooping and hollering from back in the kitchen, turning around to glance in the direction and laughing at the sight of Nick, Ricky and Ruth all watching through the serving window with cheerful smiles - quick to duck underneath it now that you were looking at them. You stayed turned around for a beat, processing the fact that sometime between all of his visits he had formed a friendship with the three of them, scheming behind your back and somehow you had no idea.  

You turned back around to face Matty, fighting off a smile with puzzled eyes as you opened your mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words, pointing behind you in the direction of the kitchen. 

“No time for questions, sweetheart. This is a very big moment for me.” Matty waved you off, already having his phone pulled out so he could create a contact for you, the sight of his excitement has the questions dying in your throat, watching him type your number in with a smile. “Wow.” Matty sighed, saving the contact to his phone and locking it, tossing it to the side and now facing you with a smirk that told you he was about to make an awful joke. “I fucked you so good last night that I got a digit for each time I made you cum.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock, eyes wide as you looked around to make sure nobody had overhead him. “We are in public.” You scolded, but the blush on your cheeks contradicted it. “This is a family establishment.”

Matty gave you a crooked smile, dark eyes running along the expanse of your frame and raising an eyebrow when he arrived back at your eyes. “Family establishment.” Matty mocks with a snort. “That didn’t stop you from taking my dic-”

“Alright.” You cut him off with wide, pointed eyes. Matty laughed easily, bringing his tongue out to lick along his bottom lip as he smiled, holding his bottom lip between his teeth. “Are you quite finished?”

“I don’t know.” Matty shrugged. “Are you? Don’t you still have a few more rounds left to go? Or am I remembering wrong?”

You huff a deep breath from your nose, forcing your mouth into a tight line, not giving him the satisfaction of the laugh that threatened to spill from you. You closed your eyes, counting to ten before reopening them, giving him an overly bright smile, ready to run and hide in the kitchen - feeling like nothing had changed, still that same flustered girl you were before as you tilted your head down at him. “Goodbye, Matty.”

[plantinghobbies]

adesso tu

the unspoken tragedy of them summarised in so few words desperately thrown at her feet. it's never been more, never less, never enough. the longest con he ever pulled was not loving her. the best con she ever pulled was loving him.

ao3. // glow's masterlist.

A/N: couldnt sleep a few days ago, started a new fic. idk if this is a one-shot or a series of snapshots but lets see how it goes. lmk what you think. and a big thank you @plantinghobbies (as always) for reading throught everything I send her with speed and providing wonderful input

Warnings: mature content, some smut, no additional warnings (lmk if more specific tags should be added)

Sinking into her night after night after night. Drowning, and reviving. Gasping for air, then diving. Crashing against her stony shore, a small wave pushed around by greater forces until it dies in foam.

He never learns, never tries; continues to yearn and die.

His shirt hangs off her shoulders as she peers through the window, cigarette in one hand and a nearly empty bottle of Pinot in the other. The sheets next to him have gone cold, a testament to how long she's been up waiting for the sun to join her.

"Can't sleep?"

Her head snaps towards him, "I didn't mean to wake you, sorry."

The sheets slip off him when he gets up. Piercing green eyes rake over his bare body, he can feel her devour him from afar. Tastes the desire in her smoke filled mouth, tongue dipping in to satisfy the screaming thirst he's not been able to shake.

"Jesus, Alison," finally, he notices how she straddles the window sill, one leg dangling outside. On instinct he moves to grip her thigh, imagining it might help if she tipped over. He imagines her losing balance and tipping over, sees himself push her, sees himself save her. Sees her, beautiful and peaceful, limp on the ground. Screws his eyes shut to escape the image.

Her fingers, nimble and present, run possessively through his hair, reeling him back in. There is solace in her bitten lips, and she tastes like a compilation of all of his dreams, a decoupage of all his fears. He could almost cut himself on the edges of her sharp teeth. Instead she sinks them into his soft flesh; copper and ash.

"How long?" he mumbles against her lips, palm still gripping her thigh.

Alison sighs, scraping her nails down his bicep. He follows the white tips of her fresh manicure as they leave faded pink lines, chemtrails on pale skin. It seeps deep inside, a dopamine rush.

"Till Sunday," she pulls away, leaning her head against the window. "Plenty of time."

Only four days.

"We should drive up to Como," he rests his head on her thigh, presses his lips to the soft skin once, twice, three times.

There's nothing underneath the light linen shirt. The little gasp stealing away from her mouth strokes his ego at the first touch of his lips to her core. Fingers securing her hips in the precarious position, as he peppers kisses anywhere but where she most needs him.

"Come on," she tugs at the curls, forcing him to comply the way she's wont to, even as she focuses on maintaining balance.

He responds with a hum, and a broad swipe of his tongue. A bite to her inner thigh, and a chuckle deep in his throat. Her hips buck towards him, uncaring that dawn is breaking. Finally he lets up, eats her out and up for the whole world to see. She comes apart, one hand in his hair, the other gripping the window frame. A whine brings her attention to him, and she finally comes back inside. Sinking to the floor she wraps her pretty lips around him, vengefully torturous in her movements. Payback for his teasing.

With stars splayed on the back of his eyelids he comes apart, spilling in her warm mouth. Braced against the window frame as the first faint golden light gently blinds him, he runs his thumb over her lips, her cheeks, wiping away a stray tear as he feels her swallow.

It's all so painfully theatrical, a public act of their private affair.

Across the road a glamorous nonna waves at him, with an almost approving nod. Alison wipes her mouth and pops back up to press a stunningly chaste kiss to his lips.

"Como sounds perfect."

[plantinghobbies]

if you're too shy (office nerd!matty x reader fluff)

in which the other music journalist at the magazine you work at is the cutest weird boy you've ever met. enjoy <3

in hindsight, coming back from a two-week holiday the same day the magazine goes to print was a misguided idea.

your editor-in-chief tells you as much when you enter the office, pulling you into a half hug. “don't get me wrong, it's lovely to see you,” she says, scraping her hair back into a bun and securing it with a pencil. “but you'll be doing nothing all day, i'm afraid. maybe some last minute proofing, but i think everyone in nightlife and reviews has been alright. double-check with marianne.”

you do just that, weaving your way through people running copy and coffee between departments until you reach your own. it's mercifully quiet compared to everywhere else, the ten or so people dotted at desks around the sunlit room looking at their laptops and wearing headphones; you actually have to flick marianne on the back of the head to get her to notice you. “oi.”

“who the- oh, hi!” marianne's face softens when she sees it's you, and she stands to pull you into one of her infamously bone-crushing hugs before pulling back to get a good look. “well, you look annoyingly well-rested. but i suppose a fortnight in a spanish villa will do that to you. bitch.”

“i had a great time, thanks for asking,” you grin. “how’s everything been with you? stressful, without your star reporter?”

“well, for starters, you've been succeeded for that title.”

you frown only half-jokingly, scanning the room to try and guess which of your colleagues has replaced you as marianne's unofficial favourite. “who the fuck…?”

“language,” she lightly slaps your arm, in spite of the fact she was just about to say the same thing, then smiles suspiciously. “and i’m talking about our newest recruit.”

the brewing annoyance in your stomach dissipates immediately, replaced by a flock of tiny butterflies. “oh,” you try to keep your smile to a minimum. “that's okay. i like him.”

marianne sees right through you, though. she rolls her eyes. “oh, you would.”

“what?”

she sighs, motioning for you to lower your voice and modifying her own to a whisper. “he’s a curly-haired pretty-eyed vaguely scrawny white boy. you'd like him even if he didn't think the sun shone out of your arse.”

“marianne!” you hiss. “he does not!”

“don’t act all indignant, he has literally looked over at you once every thirty seconds since you walked in - and don't look, idiot, you'll freak him out. we need him on the ball, today of all days,” she rubs her eyes. “but yes, he’s very good at his job. i like him, even if i've no idea what in the world he goes off on his tangents about. great writer.”

“yeah, he is,” you risk a glance towards him, but all you can see is the back of his laptop - covered in stickers for things you can only name half of - and dark curls peeking out from the side of his headphones. “i like the references. different perspective from me, innit? that's why we hired him, after all.”

“who's we? you were too pissed off that i was hiring another music critic to agree to be part of the interviewing panel.”

you'd love to disagree, but you really were pissed when marianne and the other editors told you they were expanding the nightlife section. it didn't matter that it was in response to an increase in funding and readership, with the magazine switching to a print format as well as the online edition you'd contributed to since its creation - your fierce independence and pride meant you didn't take the news well, made you think it was an issue with your competence and writing ability that meant you'd be getting a new colleague. but once you were reassured that you'd still get to keep the Big Gigs and restaurant reviews to yourself, you were slightly more agreeable to the idea.

and once you actually met the new guy, stumbling over both his words and his own feet as he introduced himself, you couldn't quite remember why you'd been opposed in the first place.

“well,” you say, snapping back into reality. “thank goodness i'm over it now.”

“because you want to get under him?”

“no!” you stand indignantly, and then grin. “on top, maybe.”

“good grief,” your boss shakes her head. “don't you go bringing it up to him - excuse the pun - before this edition goes to the printers,” she points at you as you move to walk away. “or talking to him at all until then, actually, you hear me? i love you, but you're a distraction to him, and he's my best journo.”

“he's not, but alright,” you pat her head as you walk back towards the door. “i'll be in the staff room if you need me. and i won't talk to anyone, mum, i promise.”

“i'm only five years older than you!”

“whatever you say!” you reply in a singsongy voice, giggling to yourself as you wander towards the sunny kitchen. the little radio on the windowsill is on, as it always is, and you nod along to the cure while you wait for the kettle to boil. once you've made a cuppa (and grabbed a slack handful of the chocolate digestives marianne always keeps the cupboard stocked with), you settle at the table with your laptop, typing out ideas for your next feature and doing your best not to think about the boy down the corridor you've been instructed not to talk to for the time being. for the most part, you succeed.

that is, until he walks into the staff room two hours later.

you frantically wipe your face of biscuit crumbs as he does, smiling as sweetly as you can for someone with no idea if she has chocolate on her teeth or not. “hi, matty. how are you?”

“oh, hi! i'm, uh, i'm alright,” matty smiles widely enough that his verbal emotional downplaying is blatant - still, he's so cute, beaming at you like that with his little sweater paws. he’s always in a jumper or cardigan or hoodie of some kind, and on more than one occasion in the three months you've known him, you've absolutely thought about literally cosying up into him instead of doing any work. “how was spain? and the wedding - it was a family wedding you were going to, yeah?”

“that's right,” it’s not a big deal, but you glow at the fact he remembered. or maybe it's the soft intent he looks at you with. “it was lovely, yeah. although - wait, have we gone to print?” you ask, suddenly recalling marianne's instructions. “i'm not keeping you from work?”

matty's curls bounce as he shakes his head, light hitting off the metal hoop in his earlobe (that you're only mildly obsessed with). “we've gone. i'm just in here to get my lunch,” he pulls a tupperware from the fridge, cheeks rosy as he waves it. “made some soup last night.”

he makes his own soup. the thought is so endearing that it takes everything in you not to sigh; you settle for a smile. “carrot and coriander?”

“you can tell from one glance?”

you shrug. “s'my favourite.”

“really?” matty's face seems to light up. “mine too,” he busies himself with putting the tupperware in the microwave, taking his time pressing buttons and turning dials before looking bashfully at you. “so, you had a nice time at the wedding, then?”

“i did, thank you. do you, um,” you start, suddenly shy. “d'you want to see some photos from it, while you're waiting for the soup to heat up?”

he nods back just as shyly, sitting quite awkwardly on the seat next to yours; while you open your photos app, matty twists a stray curl around his finger, and the movement seems to send your nerves into vibration as well as the molecules in the air. with a series of shallow breaths, you locate the folder of the wedding pictures and set your phone on the table. “feel free to flick through them, if you like.”

“thank you,” matty sits forward, carefully swiping through the album. you lean on your elbow, doing your best not to beam adoringly at the way he looks intently at each photo before moving to the next. “the venue is really beautiful.”

“yeah, it was stunning.”

the next picture is one of you in your bridesmaid dress, taken by your sister the morning of the wedding. you watch, slightly heartsick, as matty's mouth falls open as he looks at you; the feeling worsens when he tentatively does the same thing in real life, those pretty eyes of his sparkling as he smiles softly. “so are you. really. like,” he looks down at the photo again, shaking his head slightly before looking back up at you. “that colour is beautiful on you. honest. you look incredible.”

“thank you,” the words come out in a whisper, and the two of you silently smile at each other for a moment until you clear your throat. “um, there are more of the official pics on my instagram, let me… actually, do you have my private account?”

“oh, no,” matty shakes his head again - god, you love the way his hair moves. “just the one for your writing.”

“well,” you tap on the app with an almost-imperceptibly shaky finger. “that's the username there, if you'd like to follow. no pressure, of course. don’t wanna fuck up your algorithms or anything.”

your nervous chuckle at the end of the sentence turns to a giggle when you see matty's face as you share your username; it lights up so much that you'd be forgiven for thinking he'd just won the lottery. he pulls his own phone out and taps away at it. “you don't have to follow me back, by the way,” his cheeks flush a deep red, a beautiful colour. “m'not posting anything interesting.”

doubtful. he might be one of the most interesting people you've ever met, all talent and sweetness and a wealth of cultural understanding wrapped up in a sweater and a pretty face. “no, i'd like to.”

“alright. thank you,” matty's cheeks seem to get even redder as he watches you hit follow back, face twitching as though he’s trying to stop himself smiling too big. when the microwave dings, he all but skips over to it, almost tripping over the leg of his chair in a sweetly awkward way; he swears under his breath when he lifts the steaming container out, turning back sheepishly to look at you. “sorry.”

“don't worry,” you grin at him, feeling slightly bold. “i still think you're sweet when you swear.”

he giggles, and the noise makes your heart leap; in addition to being one of the most interesting people you think you've ever met, matty healy is without doubt the cutest. watching his lips pout in concentration as he stirs the soup and checks the temperature, you briefly imagine what they would feel like against your own, how he would be if the two of you were to kiss. just as giggly and endearingly awkward as he usually is, you think - eager to please, lips and tongue a little sloppy and unsure but enthusiastic enough for you not to mind, slightly unsure of where to put his hands so as to not make you uncomfortable… the scene is as clear as day in your head, and you really, really want to recreate it. you'd devour him right now if you could, the sweetheart.

and then, matty reaches up to get a bowl from the shelf, the hem of his shirt goes with him, and your want to devour him suddenly takes on a less pg-rated meaning than it did a second ago.

he has a fucking hip tattoo.

you’re pretty sure it's only a sliver of the full design you can actually see, but the hints of red and blue and black ink and the glimpse of his happy trail are enough to fuck you up completely. as you register what you're seeing - what you're discovering about the seemingly buttoned-up, shy, unassuming-to-everyone-but-you matty - your breath catches in your throat, forcing you to cough quite obviously on the mouthful of lukewarm tea you'd just taken. one cough turns into another, and you clap a hand over your mouth to make your tattoo reaction attack the least obvious it can be.

still, the ever-perceptive man across the kitchen notices, running over to crouch in front of you with concern filling those beautiful eyes of his. “you alright, darling?”

darling?! no, you most certainly aren't alright.

but you can't tell matty that, so you stick to gesturing to let him know you'll reply once you've managed to swallow your tea. “i am, yeah, thanks. tea just, y'know, went down the wrong way.”

matty tilts his head. “you sure?”

“yeah,” you smile, slightly embarrassed. “really. thank you, though.”

“of course,” he smiles in return, knee brushing lightly against your leg as he steadies himself; he looks down, eyes widening as he registers how close the two of you are, and quickly stands. “i'd better, y'know, get my lunch.”

you nod, despite the strange loneliness settling into your bones at the lack of him next to you. “i can head back to the office, if you want peace?”

“no, no, please stay!” matty all but gasps, turning to look at you like a deer caught in headlights - he clears his throat, blinking a few times before speaking again. “please don't feel the need to leave on my account, i mean. or feel obliged to talk, really - i was just going to read.”

“you're sure i won't be a bother to you?”

matty smiles warmly, shaking his head. “that'll never happen.”

christ.

“okay,” you whisper, winking at him - and savouring the little giggle that bubbles out of him when you do - before turning back to your laptop. 

matty settles at the table a minute or so later, pulling a paperback from his back pocket and holding it open quite attractively with one hand. you peek over the rim of your laptop at him every so often, never for more than a couple of seconds at a time; partially to avoid the mortification of him catching you, but mostly because if you look at him any longer you know your mind will wander back to that fucking hip tattoo of his, and what it might look like completely visible to you, and what it might feel like under your lips, and what noises matty might make if you slowly dragged your tongue all over it before moving to the side to lick a wavy line up the length of his-

enough. he's literally right there.

the room feels hot, all of a sudden, your cheeks flushing and throat drying to match. on only slightly shaky legs, you pick up your waterbottle and head to the water fountain, crouching as best you can to fill it. even though he stays silent, you can feel matty’s eyes on you from across the room, but it doesn't bother you or freak you out in the way that other men ogling you at a water fountain would - it's quite obvious that matty has some sort of more-than-platonic affection for you, but his gaze has always been one of appreciation and awe when it comes to you, not the predatory one you've come to expect from men. and yet, his is the only male gaze that makes you feel slightly nervous, unused to being looked at with such reverence and tenderness by an attractive boy; in complete contrast, though, it also makes you lower your guard, pull down the bricks from the wall you've built around your heart, and allow yourself to actually feel something for matty, for once. something good, honest, promising.

matty looks up from his book as you sit down, smiling pleasantly. he opens his mouth as if to talk, and then closes it immediately, shaking his head slightly.

this intrigues you. “you okay, matty?”

“hmm? oh, yeah, i was just thinking,” his cheeks go a shade of pink you would buy in blush form if you could find it. “when you were first talking about the wedding… you said although, and then we got off-topic slightly. what, um, what were you going to say, if you don't mind me asking?”

“oh, right,” you wrack your brain, doing your best to not get distracted by how cute you find his perception. “i think i was going to say something about how, as good as it all was, there's nothing like a family wedding to remind you of how single you are.”

his jaw falls open. “you… you don't have a boyfriend? wait, sorry,” he blinks. “or a partner?”

you shake your head, biting the inside of your lip to stop yourself smiling. “no boyfriend, no. and thus, constantly advised by a never-ending flock of aunts that i should get one so i could get married.”

“christ,” matty winces. “yeah, my cousin's getting married in a couple of months - not looking forward to everyone asking me when i'm going to meet a nice girl and settle down, as if i can answer.”

no girlfriend. how interesting. “you're single? really?”

he rolls his eyes, still smiling at you. “be serious. course i am.”

“i am being serious! that surprises me,” you lean on one elbow, tilting your head to look at him. “you're lovely, matty.”

matty’s eyes widen, and he blinks adorably a few times before he smiles shyly again. “thank you. i think the same about you.”

“you do?”

he simply nods, total sincerity in those pretty eyes. 

you feel your cheeks warm, but you make no effort to hide it. “thank you.”

matty shrugs. “just telling the truth, darling,” he looks panicked when he realises what he's said. “sorry for calling you that, twice, it just-”

“i like it, matty, it's alright,” you say reassuringly. “and i like-”

“oh, thank god you're both here,” marianne bursts into the room, carrying her laptop; you frown petulantly at her for ruining your moment, but shuffle your chair round closer to matty's so she can sit at the table too. “something weird’s happening.”

matty squints. “what d'you mean by weird?”

marianne pushes her laptop towards you both. “there's overlap in your planned reviews - the band you're going to see at the end of next week, matthew, have just been announced as the opener for the next Big Gig. i need to know how we want to go about this.”

“oh,” he looks at you. “i don't mind if you want to just review them as part of yours.”

you're shaking your head vehemently before he even finishes talking. “no, that's not fair,” you tap your lips with your index finger the way you always do when you concentrate, trying to ignore the glow within your body when you see matty looking at them from the corner of your eye; inspiration strikes, and you turn to marianne. “matty could come with me, couldn't he? if he reviews their headline gig, and then he does a follow-up review of their opening set in the Big Gig feature - we could just do a joint byline, work together on it.”

both of them turn to look at you in slight shock. marianne is the first to speak, her words trickling out slowly as she processes the fact you've just agreed to let someone else work on a Big Gig for the first time. “you're… happy with that?”

“if matty is, yeah,” you turn to him, smiling. “sound alright?”

he beams. “more than. thank you.”

“of course,” you turn back to the boss. “there you go. sorted.”

she sighs, relieved. “thank goodness for that. alright,” she stands, picking up her laptop and heading back to the main office. “i'll coordinate press passes. thanks for making that simple - you're both stars.”

“anytime!” you call after her, before turning back to matty. “you're sure you're happy to do this? i realise i've just given you more work to do, but…”

he laughs, a beautiful sound. “nah, i don't mind. also,” he shuffles in his seat, bashful again. “i actually have a spare ticket for the first show, if you'd like it - bought it before i saw it was on the review roster. doesn't seem fair that i get to go to two gigs while you only get one, i think. i mean, no pressure, obviously, but the offer's there.”

god, he’s so fucking cute. how could you ever say no to him? “i'd like that a lot, matty, thank you,” you beam at him. “i think us working together is going to be a lot of fun.”

matty beams back just as enthusiastically. “i think so too.”

[plantinghobbies]

A Visceral Portrayal of Intimate Moments

A series in which Matty and Amelia (now officially together!) learn intimacy.

1. I'm In Love With You

Matty set the car gear into ‘Park,’ killing the engine, and exhaling loudly. The door was only a few steps away, but, even that felt like a journey that he was too exhausted to take. He slouched, melting into his seat, and listening to the sounds of the night around him: crickets chirping, cars driving past his main gates, his own labored breathing. He leaned over, his forehead resting against the steering wheel, and began to sob. 

Inside, Amelia heard his car pull up; she saw the flashing lights as he drove into the garage, and she heard the car turn off. And yet, just like he’d done every single night this week, she heard him sit there for a long time. No sound of the car door opening, no noise or guitar cases being unloaded out of the car, no car door slamming shut behind him, or the beeping noise of him clicking the remote key to lock the car as he walked away. Only complete silence. 

She sat in the living room, like she always did, trying not to wonder why he’d stopped rushing home to hug and kiss her lately. Idly, she scrolled through her phone, stumbling across some of the tour videos that fans would often tag her in. This one was of Matty performing “I’m In Love With You,” and she found it jarring. It looked nothing like the hundreds of times that she had seen him perform that song before. Her surprise brought to mind a review of ATVB that she’d read once where the journalist had described Matty’s performance of the song as deliberately exaggerated. They had focused on his smile looking so huge that it “could almost shatter his face.” His loud chuckle when the audience would sing “don’t fuck it, you muppet” to him. Amelia remembered disagreeing with the review at the time. She remembered even bitching about it to Ross. 

“Has this guy even listened to the song?” She’d glanced at Ross as he’d stood in front of the dressing room mirror, buttoning his shirt, getting ready to go onstage shortly. “I mean….He says the song is overly dramatic. It’s not. It’s just the nature of that phase of being in love.”

Ross had mumbled something about how journalists tend to project their own feelings onto the objects of their reviews, anyway, but it was too late. Amelia had been ticked off. 

“There’s plenty of angst in the song.” She pointed out, as if the reviewer in question could hear her. “ I mean- he tries to say ‘I love you.’ But he just can’t do it. Hasn’t Matty even talked about how difficult it was to write a song that’s just like ‘I’m in love with you’ without simultaneously debasing the sentiment?” She’d put her phone down. “Fuckin dumbass.” The frown on her face had dissolved as she’d looked at her friend. “Ooo. Handsome.” She went over to him to help fix his collar. “Unbuttoned is nicer. The ladies will be grateful. Trust me.”

All these features of the performance that the journalist had grossly misinterpreted were nowhere to be seen in this recent clip. No face shattering smile. No cloyingly sweet joy. In fact, the fans seemed to be filling in some of the gaps for him. 

“She’s got her broadsheet.” The matty in her phone crooned. “Readin’ down the list of the goin’ wrongs.”

“What?” A fan ad-libbed on his behalf. 

“I’m getting no sleep.”

“Why?” Someone in the crowd shouted when Matty failed to do it himself. 

“Tossin’ and turnin’ all night long.”

Suddenly, Amelia felt the tossing and turning take on a new meaning. She could see it in his eyes. 

***

“Hey,” Matty greeted her with a tightlipped smile, his gaze darting around the room avoidingly. 

“How was your day?”

“Good.” he nodded, attempting to persuade himself. 

“You hungry? I’ve made-”

“Oh, I already ate.”

Amelia took a deep breath, telling herself that it wasn’t sn act of betrayal to eat without her. It’d be paranoid of her to think that he did it to avoiding having to sit down at a table and have a meal with her. And yet, when was the last time that they had dinner together?

“Are you gonna sit down, or?” She looked up at him from the couch. He’d been standing, stiff, in the doorway, looking defensive. Like a stranger to the place assessing his new surroundings, or a skittish outdoor animal being brought inside for the first time. 

“Erm- no, actually. I think….i think I’ll just stay at George’s tonight.” He announced the idea as soon as it popped into his head, surprising even himself. “I’m just gonna…get a few things from the bedroom, first.”

***

Amelia stood by the door, watching him. “What’s George got that I don’t have?”

Matty paused his packing but his back towards her, “What?”

The fact that he didn't even try to make a joke of answering that question was telling.

“Matty, do you not love me anymore?” 

He turned around, thinking that he could face her, but he was wrong. The intensity of her eyes made his knees buckle. He sat on the edge of the bed with a thud. 

“Do you regret proposing? Moving in together? Should…I be the one packing up and leaving your house?”

The words 'your house' made him bristle. he preferred to think of it as their home. he thought she did, too.

His loud sigh wasn’t the reaction that she’d hoped for. She’d hoped he’d call her insane for even asking these questions. She wanted him to lunge across the room and desperately shake her by the shoulders, but his quiet told her everything that she needed to know. 

“Course not.” He mumbled, barely comprehendable. “I mean….maybe?” He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“I see.” Amelia managed, before her voice cracked, she hugged herself tightly, fighting the urge to shrink away from him. “And your solution is to- to- what? Pack up and leave?”

Matty rolled his eyes, turning his attention back to his overnight bag, he rearranged its contents needlessly, huffing defensively as she watched him. 

“You won't even break up with me?"

he ignored her question.

" you can keep packing, if you like, but you’re not going anywhere.”

“Going to George’s.” He simply repeated, “I already told you.” He rushed past her, out of the room, not daring to look into her eyes as their shoulders brushed. 

She turned on her heels, arms still crossed, and followed him around. “Over my dead body!” She yelled at the top of the stairs when it became clear to her that he was moving faster, trying to evade her. 

“Amelia-“

“You’re not going.” Her voice shook as she hurried down, her hand sliding down the railing, gripping it for balance, occasionally. “Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you’re not leaving. I won’t let you.”

Matty scoffed, begrudging the threat to his freedom. “The fuck you won’t.” He muttered under his breath, heading for the door. 

Amelia ran to catch up with him, standing in the entryway and blocking his path forward. “I’m tiny but I’m strong. What’re you gonna do? Push me?”

“uh- don't be ridiculous."

She resented that he wouldn’t even put in the energy for a proper argument. He was just mumbling. At best. 

“Didn’t you just come from the studio?” 

Matty nodded, his eyes diligently avoiding hers. 

“George was there, wasn't he?”

“Mhm. George and everyone else. Adam, Ross, Jamie…”

“And yesterday?- And two nights ago- you didn’t even come home two night ago. You were at the studio all night. Wasn’t George there, too?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, he was there. What- I’m not allowed to see my friends anymore? I need to keep a record? Have you sign off on it?”

“You’re never home, Matty.” She was taken aback by how emotional she felt stating that fact. “I don’t know what’s going on inside that head of yours because you’re never home. You never talk to me. I never see you. You think- you think I don’t know about the car?!”

He frowned. “What car?”

“Yours! The car! How you- you sit there. In it. Every night. For ages. Trying to will yourself to come in.”

His hands shook, accidentally dropping the bag and spilling its contents everywhere. His bottle of deodorant rolled away.

“I can tell you don’t wanna be around me- I just- I don’t understand why?”

Her words felt like a thousand daggers to the heart. It wasn't true. he wanted to tell her that. it's not true. she's wrong. somehow he'd fucked up even without being around to know that he'd done it.

“What have I done to make you stop loving me?” she asked, desperate for anything to cling to, any word from him at all.

Matty looked at the bag and then at the door, and decided that standing there, even for a second longer, would be too much. He attempted to walk past her but she leaned her whole body against the wall to stop him. 

“Amelia, get out of my way, please-“

“You won’t even stay long enough to fight with me?"

He saw the tears that she was stubbornly holding back. fuck; he hated himself for how he'd made her feel.

"What’re you thinking? Just say something, anything- please!” She grabbed onto him, her fists tightening around the fabric of his shirt. 

“Fucks sakes, Amelia, I’m trying to protect you!”

his tightly concealed frustration slipped from its stronghold, the charade of quietude unravelling quickly. This is why he dared not speak. He was already feeling the lump in his throat. He looked up at the ceiling, mainly to avoid looking at her, but also in a desperate attempt to push back tears.

“Protect me? From what?”

He crumbled to his knees, dragging her down with him. 

“From me. From being- cursed. I - fuck, I ruin everything….” hot tears streamed down his face.

***

Matty looked up at the nights sky, his head on her shoulder. A swift breeze  blew past his face, moving the tears that had been half-dry on his skin, his cheeks felt cold. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and feeling the air fill up his lungs. 

“So…” Amelia spoke softly, breaking the silence that had followed his panic attack, and her leading him out into the yard. “you were just going to let me believe that you don’t want me anymore? You were going to leave?"

He felt a fresh wave of tears rush through him. he wasn't going to fight it this time.

"Being Funny In A Foreign Language is an excellent album." he said, his voice shaking.

"non-sequitur of the year award."

"No, wait, hear me out." He pulled himself off of her, sitting up straight. "It's a great record. and not just because it's my record."

"right."

"And, yet, people who worked on it....they're actively choosing not to put their name on it. You know why?"

Instantly, Amelia knew where this line of reasoning was headed. In fact, she felt slightly stupid for not seeing it coming. 

“Matty-“

"cuz, if they did, they'd have to put their name next to mine."

"listen-"

" I have to think….what about other people? Who are stuck with my name next to theirs, hmm? What about their careers? The boys, too….and you.”

she rolled her eyes. "I'm not your employee."

Matty deemed her rebuttal too weak to need a response. He went on, unperturbed. "So, I- want to be better. I want to be good for people. I just- I don't know how. Or maybe I just can't do it. it feels so.... And, I keep thinking that shutting the fuck up and minding my business only hurts this much right now cuz it's- it's, like, new. I'm not used to it yet. That I'd get better at it with practice. But-"

a sob ripped straight from his chest. He wiped his tears away quickly, not letting them sit on his skin. "It's so fuckin hard. It's so unnatural. I've never felt less like myself, having to figure every instinct and do the opposite of what I feel like doing..."

Amelia threw her arm around him, pulling him back into her. "Baby, I'm so sorry....I- had no idea. I thought we were happy. I thought we were okay."

"we are okay." she heard his voice, muffled by his face hurried in her chest.

"if you're not okay, we're not okay."

that statement seemed to strike a nerve. Matty instantly fought to pull away from her again. He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. "See, thats what I mean- I can't drag you down with me."

"Matty, I'm in love with you." She kissed his forehead; his eyes closed.

"Yeah, unfortunate for you, but not a reason you should suffer for-"

"No, genius. I'm saying I'm in love with you, not some alternative, milder, or more well-behaved version of you. YOU are the person that I want to be with. I WANT my name next to yours."

Matty shook his head, furious. "No, but it isn't just us. you want children, at some point, right?"

"yeah...."

"I wanna be a dad. i don't want my kids to- to be stuck with me for a dad."

"Matty, our kids are going to be so-"

"No! You're not thinking. You really want our child to come home from school one day and ask you what a nazi is cuz someone at school asked them why their fuckin dickhead dad does a nazi salute onstage?""

"Personally, depends on the age, I mean....do they know what a salute is in this scenario?"

Amelia's attempt to lighten the mood got her nowhere. Matty simply shook his head.

"I want a cigarette right now. so bad."

"You really should cut back on it, you know." she produced a pack out of her pocket and handed it to him.

"Nazi salute you're okay with, but you draw the line at smoking?" he pulled a cigarette out of the mostly empty pack and lit it.

"Yeah, cuz you're not actually a nazi," she flicked him in the side of the head, "besides, I literally just gave you a cig, didn't I? I fuckin carry them around for you.'

"how can you be so sure? that I'm not a nazi, I mean."

she rolled her eyes. "because I know you. and our kids will know you too. they'll know how gentle and kind you are with them. They'll see you for who you are and-"

"yeah, but that won't matter will it? you and I both know it won't. If context mattered, I- wouldn't be afraid of googling the words 'Matty Healy,' right now."

She watched him tap his cigarette ashes away and put it back in his mouth.

"you can't explain irony to kids without fucking with their sense of reality." He simply stated. "I should know. my dad was an actor."

she kissed his cheek, nuzzling into him

"And look how I turned out." he chuckled. "do you think I'd be doing ironic racism on podcasts if my parents had been, like, accountants or something?"

"believe it or not, yeah, I think so..." she nodded softly. "somethings are....i don't know. bigger than nature and nurture." she shrugged. "you were meant to be."

"doomed to be." he corrected her.

"eh. same difference."

she took the dying cigarette out of his mouth, tossing it away, and making room for her tongue in his mouth instead.

he broke the kiss when he felt emotion get the best of him. "i'm sorry im such a fuckin mess." he cried. attempting to look away and hide his face from her.

"don't be sorry, hey, its okay. you can be a mess. you can cry. but this ring you gave me....it means you come to me with your tears. You don't run away, okay?"

she kissed his lips again, several times, consecutively, unfazed by the taste of his salty tears brushing off on her, moving from his face to hers. By the time that she'd let go of his face, it was like the tears on her cheeks were her own.

[plantinghobbies]

Aaaah anon, this made my day! I’m sitting here writing Part 5 and like crying into my keyboard. Thank you for the love for our little story, we are having a blast! I honestly was curious too how it would work and I had been in a bit of a writing rut so I was nervous about letting @solipsisticno1 down but having another person to bounce ideas off of and build this world with has been the effing best! And then getting feedback like this is just the cherry on top so thank you!!!

You and @plantinghobbies are doing the lord’s work 🙏

I really can’t imagine how much work is required to write a four-handed fic but you are so talented (and seem so in tune with each other) that every chapter flows seamlessly within the other and it’s even more beautiful than the precedent.

Can’t wait to see how the story develops!💓

🥹🥹🥹 gdhshdhsjshdjs

I think I can speak for both of us when I say thank you for your kind words and you best believe we are having so much with this.

for me this has been such a fun experience collaborating and focusing on one character pov as oppossd to thinking of how multiple individuals might see it. like one of the fun parts for part 4 was actually writing Val's outward expressions and behaviour while leaving the juicy inner monologue for part 5 (and for @plantinghobbies to handle)

and then vice versa when i read her parts i am automatically thinking of what is happening in Matty's dumb head