#one where Daniel is like

[grandapplewit]

Can someone bully me into writing my “Daniel is a ghost and followed Buck around his entire life, because that’s his baby brother and he’s the reason he’s alive, so he’s gotta protect him” fic pLease

[reunitedinterlude]

dnp's best friends club

[laniidae-passerine]

positively obsessed with how Rockstar Lestat is the exact kind of guy one of my friends would show me a picture of and swear he’s really sexy and cool and brilliant. Whole time I’m thinking “oh dear GOD” staring at a trainwreck weirdo and wondering what’s happened to everybody else that is absolutely missing me. jesus christ he’s blond

[hoomanbeaning]

"... afraid she was no longer there, and eager to see her, the lover turned his eyes. in an instant she dropped back, and he, unhappy man, stretching out his arms to hold her and be held, clutched at nothing but the receding air. dying a second time, now, there was no complaint to her husband (what, then, could she complain of, except that she had been loved?) ..."

ovid's metamorphoses / orpheus and eurydice

[apoptoses]

what are the odds that daniel stayed at a hotel that folds towels into swans and leaves them on your bed, and armand saw them and got obsessed

and so for weeks after daniel would wake up in their apartment with every towel in the place staring at him like

[mayabishopgold]

Maya Bishop | Station 19 - 2x05 "Do a Little Harm..."

[sinematically]

made this post for sapphic reasons

Edit: assume this post says “working class/woman who destroys the rich”, and not WOC ‘cause I got it wrong. Ana de Armas is not a WOC — she’s Caucasian and of Spanish/Cuban descent which is her ethnicity.

[petite-phthora]

Can I kiss you?

[DP x DC fic]

[Love at first... murder? - part 1]

Next >>

Ao3

---

“—so sorry! I swear I didn’t mean to kill him! It was an accident! He just jumped me out of nowhere and I have had bad experiences with clowns in the past so when I saw it was a clown trying to kidnap me I kinda just panicked and punched him! I swear, dude, I didn’t mean to hit him so hard—“

Jason, much too calmly, likely in some form of shock, rises from the crouched-down position he had been in to check the clown corpse’s pulse.

He had seen the poor, still rambling, twink getting grabbed from a distance and was about to step in as Red Hood, not even having been aware it was the Joker who —shouldn’t he have been in Arkham? There has been no announcement of him breaking out yet— had grabbed the guy until he had run close enough to the scene.

Which was after the guy had already been startled so badly by the Joker trying to kidnap him that he sucker punched the Joker into the wall of the alley so hard the clown died.

Said twink then realized what he had done and that he had a witness, that witness being Red Hood himself, and had started his frenzied speech on how it was an accident and to please don’t take him to jail he’s only just started his scholarship at Gotham U. and he can’t have murder on his track record yet.

Breathless, Jason looks at the nervous twink in front of him, who's still trying to plead his case, and who just obliterated the Joker with a punch.

Before his brain can catch up to his mouth, he’s already cutting the distressed monologuing off.

“Can I kiss you?” He blurts out.

Danny, taken off guard, breaks out of his panicked—oh, Ancients, I just killed someone— stupor and lets out a startled laugh.

“Take me out to dinner first” came the automatic joking reply, Danny still largely in shock of what he did.

Jason, either not picking up on the joking tone or ignoring it, nods seriously, already trying to come up with the best place for a dinner date with the cute twink to thank him for his service to the city.

Danny, who has calmed down slightly by now, glances between the red-helmed vigilante and the clown corpse. His gaze lands on Red Hood and he hesitantly speaks up again.

“So, uh, what happens now? Do I need to go to the station to make a statement orrrr?” He pauses awkwardly.

Jason, who’s still trying to figure out whether the Bat Burger would be a good place for a first date or not, doesn’t reply.

“I’ve got school in the morning and I only have like,” he pauses to check his phone for the time, “3 more hours before I have to be up for my first lesson. Soooo, I’m just gonna go. That cool?”

Again, he waits for a reply. But it doesn’t come.

“Right. Cool cool. Uh, see you later? Mr. Red Hood dude sir?” Danny gives a clumsy and awkward salute before turning tail and speed-walking away.

It’s not until 30 minutes later, once Jason has finally decided on the perfect place to take the guy to dinner to, that he realizes the twink is gone.

Fuck, he forgot to ask for the guy’s name.

…

And number.

[forzalvr]

media: 'max verstappen is very aggresive!!! he's rude blablablabla🤬🤬🤬'

meanwhile maxie:

[fighting-naturalist]

Sam and Daniel in "Covenant"

[yesloulou]

LIVE from Albert Park | AusGP 2023

[reunitedinterlude]

sunshine (1, 2)

[ahalliance]

insuline & nicotine flirting is just antoine initiating by saying something insane about étoiles unprompted (i.e. “your ass is driving me crazy and i need it”) and étoiles responding on the same wavelength (i.e. “your knowledge of world capitals is like my ass, you’ll never forget it”) . truly the fun part of it all is seeing the evolution in how antoine would just do this without any big reaction from étoiles for a while until étoiles just started clapping back and being just as insane unprompted

[clowndensation]

it's like. louis attempted to tell this story to daniel the first time, broke down, and attacked him before he could finish it.

and then decades later he's convinced himself that it was leaving the story unresolved that's holding him back from living his life fully now. so he invites daniel back again. and louis is sitting poised and put together, confident in his ability to recite his history in a pretty, poignant, neat little narrative that will resolve all the guilt and yearning and emptiness inside of him. that if he can just tell a compelling, satisfying story, maybe it will actually be that, and not the life he lived through, with all the pitfalls of his own failures lurking inside.

and then season 1 ends with him once again being forced to confront that the story he wants to imagine and the life he actually lived aren't the same thing. the boundaries around his narrative are shredded and he's left exposed, and subsequently able to face his past for the first time since that original interview. and you think, you think, "well this is it. they've crossed the event horizon. there's no use hiding the truth anymore, not after it's come flooding out into the open like this"

and then season 2 opens. not only is it back to the original, practiced distance, we now have armand literally enforcing that distance. a man sitting at the table who's interjections must be disregarded, an intentional interruption to the flow of the story. he doesn't exist to aid or add detail, he exists to distract louis when he gets too deep in the story. the only time we do get louis allowing any deep truth to come out is when armand leaves the room.

it's like. louis wants a story that's true, and the truth is what he's convinced will leave him satisfied. armand wants a story that will satisfy louis, to the extent louis will accept it's true.

[god-has-entered-my-body]

We started losing light - M.H x Reader // pt.2

A/N: TW for vomit, please take care of yourselves! I wrote most of this in one go, i'm sorry if there are any spelling/wording mistakes. It gets angsty, lots of yelling bla bla. Adams a cunt in this one. Thank you @beforeyougo-turnthebiglightoff for beta reading once again❤️

wc: 7k

part three

The smell of fresh cut grass permeated the air. You were walking down the beaten pavement path, moss covering most of it, making it quite slippery. For the first time in a long time, you were completely sober.

It had been well over two weeks since the kiss, not having addressed it. There was no need to, since it clearly meant nothing to both of you. It was early march, and you had expected the rain to lay off for a bit. The weather forecast that morning laughed in your face, predicting another week of straight rain. Had that made you think, even for a second ‘hey, maybe it’d be a good idea to bring a coat?’ Of course not. 

“What do you think of Hann’s new girl?” Mattys voice broke your train of thought. “She's fit, isn't she? Maybe even too fit for the old man,” he lets out a disgusting cough, and you tell him that maybe it's a sign he should quit smoking. 

“Don't be a dickhead, Adams plenty attractive,” you answer, nudging him with your elbow. Matty scoffs as a way to say: Hann? Attractive? Our mate, Adam Hann? You nod, not letting Adam be the butt of yet another one of Mattys deprecating jokes. 

“Olivia’s nice, even if she was a total cunt to George,” His eyes lit up at your statement, nodding erratically. “Right?? What was even her problem with him? She was fine with the rest of us, even you, given that you're a girl. Something about him must’ve fucked her off or something.” It's true, she was a total sweetheart to you, even asking where your lipgloss was from. 

She was a sight for sore eyes, bleach blonde, waist length hair draping over her shoulders. Blue eyes like the ocean, even if you get lost in them. Ross was convinced she was some sort of call girl, until Adam had shown him the text threads from the dating site they had met on.  

You offer him a shrug. The night's events played out in your mind. You had all met at a bar near Adam and Ross’ flat. From the start, she was facing away from George, avoiding looking at him like it was going to kill her if she did. George tried to talk to her, even complimented her shoes (the shoes were ugly), but to no avail. She just wouldn't acknowledge him. He eventually gave up, nursing his drink while making conversation with a very confused Ross.  

You continued walking arm in arm, ‘Old Yellow Bricks’ by the Arctic Monkeys blaring through your headphones. It was a miracle neither of you had extensive hearing loss. 

All was well, until you felt the first rain drops hit your bare shoulders. You turn to Matty to complain, but you see a sly smile already on his face. 

“I hate to tell you ‘told you so’ but-,” You didn't let him finish. 

“Please don't do this to me, I'm having a moment of weakness!” you shiver dramatically. The wind wasn't helping your little predicament. You had a tank top on, not very ideal for the harsh British rain that was about to come pouring down.   

“Now, be a gentleman and give me your coat.” Matty shakes his head, tugging the coat over himself. You scoff at him.  

“You can steal my weed and talk about ‘girls don't roll their own spliffs’ but you wont give me your coat?? Fucking tosser, you are.” You mime his thick northern accent, your fingers forming quotation marks in the air. 

“Oh fuck right off! Y’know Hann’s the only one who does that-'' you narrow your eyes at him, cocking your head to the left, “Fine, I said it once. And besides, I'm cold too!” 

You pout at him, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. He pretends to think about it, but inevitably shakes his head once again. ‘Fuck you’ you think. 

It's not until the rain starts proper pouring down on the two of you that Matty makes you an offer.

“Share the coat? You've officially lost the plot, mate.” You laugh in his face. How would you even fit?? Then again, the coat was insanely big, sized up at least two or three sizes. You could theoretically squeeze into it. Matty and his ‘fashion’ choices. 

Deciding to try, Matty takes his right arm out of the coat, letting you into it. It was a tight fit, and it didn't close, but it worked. Your left arm rested on Mattys waist, and his right one rested on yours. He gave your side a light squeeze, laughing at you when you jump. 

You felt a familiar warmth at the contact. ‘Stop it’  you thought to yourself. Your attention was quickly pulled to the car driving past. In the pouring rain, a yellow taxi cab had hit a puddle next to the edge of the pavement, dousing you in muddy rainwater. 

Matty cursed the car out, letting out a terrifying shriek. Jesus. 

He tried to brush as much of the water off as he could, but it was no use. 

Watching him struggle made you crack a smile. It was endearing almost, seeing him curse at literal water. 

The walk back to Mattys place was rudely interrupted by him booking it down the street halfway home, ripping you out of the confines of the jacket. The rain had let up, so you chased after him. Your boots splashed against the water on the ground, the wind blowing against you. Matty almost tripped on a rogue piece of pavement, making him fall back. 

His feeble attempts at getting his keys into the lock before you got to him proved useless. You were fast.

Your head hurts from the running, so you let his bolting away from you slide, as long as he made you a cuppa as an apology. He was mental about his tea, having an entire cupboard dedicated to organizing and storing it. 

“You should be on an episode of my strange addiction,” you comment. 

Matty made tea like it was his profession, perfectly measuring the water-to-teabag ratio to a T (pun intended). You loved sugar, and you watched him put 3 cubes into yours. He took his with a splash of milk, gross.

The warm liquid soothes the sore throat you knew you’d have tomorrow. Your nose was already clogging up from all the time spent in the rain, trying to get home as soon as possible   

“So, am I forgiven?” Matty looks at you from over the top of his red foo fighters mug. Only he would have a red foo fighters mug. You smile and nod at him as he reaches for the remote.  

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“I swear to fucking god Rome, if you fuck this up, I will rip your balls off and have that be my jewelry.” You say through gritted teeth.

You were currently draped across your mate Rome’s sofa. That same Rome who did your crooked aladdin sane tattoo, was now apparently a professional body piercer. But hey, who could turn down a free piercing? Spoiler alert: you probably should have. 

The needle tickled your belly button, and you could feel your heart racketing in your chest. And not in a good way. ‘Matty was the good way.’  

What the fuck? You pushed the thought away quickly. 

You had plenty of piercings in your ears, 5 or so on each side, but this was your first body piercing. I was also your first one done by Rome, tattoo expert and piercer extraordinaire, allegedly.        

Matty was sat on the glass coffee table across from the leather sofa, eyeing the needle even more intensely than you were.

A cold disinfectant wipe touched your stomach, making you shudder. Rome said it wouldn't hurt much, but you didn't trust a word that came out of his mouth. He had also told you the tattoo on your hip bone wouldn't hurt a lot, and that was a blatant lie. It was a piercing pain in your hip for about 4 hours straight, so not exactly pain free. 

“Just breathe, it’ll be over in a second.” you hear Rome's voice, slightly distorted. The needle pierces your skin. It feels hot, and you can feel your hand squeezing Mattys. The jewelry slipping in causes another flash of hot pain to sear through you. Now it's Mattys voice whispering comforting words into your ear. His presence helps, acting as a sort of psychological painkiller. 

Examining your new accessory in the mirror, you let out a content sigh. The green gemstone glimmers in the light, complimenting the red and green of your tattoo. The light of the bathroom blinded you, and you make a mental to let Rome know his lightbulb was brighter than the fucking sun.

Matty was waiting for you in the living room, flicking through channels on the telly. He nods when his eyes meet yours, signaling it was time to go. 

The two of you had made it a habit to walk everywhere, neither having enough money to pay for bus or train tickets. The walks had become a constant, the feeling of Mattys coat brushing up against your shoulder was routine.  

Sharing headphones once again, today's track was AC/DC’s ‘Back In Black’. Matty wasn't a big fan of AC/DC but that didn't matter, he still let you put it on, even though it had been his turn. 

That's something you’d noticed. He wasn't as prissy about the music anymore, simply humming in response to your music choice, even if it was the worst pop trash he had ever heard. Something felt off, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. It didn't matter much at the time, it just meant you had more opportunity to listen to whatever you pleased. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The Sound was a pub of sorts. Exactly the type of pub you would find someone like Matty in.

Extravagant, loud, and full of life and most importantly, booze. The neon signs all littering the concrete wall gave you a headache. 

He had brought everyone here, including Hann’s girlfriend, for a round of drinks. 

The queue up until the door had been well stressful, seeing as both you and George were underage. Most pubs let you in without a hitch, but this one was new. 

Thankfully, the bouncer didn't even look twice at the both of you, simply waving you through. He did press hand to Adam's chest, and asked him of all people for his I.D. You tried not to giggle as Hann desperately searched his pockets for his wallet. Olivia stood next to him, looking unimpressed.  

Matty was already inside, ordering everyone drinks. He might fail his GCSEs, but for some reason, he had everyone's drink order down by heart. Even Olivias. You wonder where he had gotten that information from.  

The bass of the music thrummed through your veins, the disco-esque lights flashing all around you. It was full, the poor bartenders overwhelmed with about sixteen people at once shouting their various drink orders at them. You took a sip of your drink, and made your way to the semi-crowded dance floor. Spotting Adam snogging his girl in the corner, you roll your eyes at the sight. 

George and Ross were off to the side, doing shots with a bridal party of all people. The maid of honor was throwing herself at Ross, and he attempted to fend her off, going on about ‘the missus waiting for him at home’. That sure didn't stop her. 

But you couldn't, for the life of you, find Matty. You hated this about him. He just disappeared and it took ages to find him again, and it didn't help that everyone else was either snogging their girlfriend or getting hammered with an entire wedding. Your eyes scan the crowd, and you finally see him. 

Him and a girl. 

His hair was up in a half up half down sort of style, blonde strands framing his face perfectly. His eyes were lined with blue liner, complimenting the blue nail polish on his fingers. The fingers on the hands that were touching some random girl's arm. A pretty girl's arm.  

She was everything in vogue. Absolutely gorgeous black hair fell over her shoulder, framing her face perfectly. A red dress clung to her body, her legs looking a mile long. She was the beauty standard.  

You felt jealousy bubble up inside of you, stopping yourself before you could properly feel it.

‘It's Matty’ you thought to yourself ‘he does this all the time, get your shit together’ A deep breath managed to steady you. It wasn't long before he saw you through the crowd of people, a smile spreading into his face when he did. He said something to the girl. The look on his face seemed apologetic. She nodded in understanding, flashing him a smile as he turned around to make his way to you. Did he reject her? 

“All this neon is doing my head in,” you gesture at your surroundings, ”can we go outside for a bit?” Matty agrees, commenting on the volume of the music. For some reason, you can't find Adam, and you assume he's off shagging his girlfriend in a bathroom stall somewhere.

The warm air hits you as you step out the back entrance, Matty following close behind. You wedge your wallet in between the door to keep it from locking you out. A lesson learned the hard way. The brick of the wall dug into your back, you wince at the roughness of it. 

You pulled out your cigarettes, feeling around for your lighter. An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, but Matty was already way ahead of you. He held his lighter up to the cig between your lips. You notice two things. One, his hands are shaking, and two, it's the lighter. That same lighter he had on his the day you met. 

Why were his hands shaking? Why did he still have it? Was it even the same one? You check the side of it and sure enough, it had his initials scrawled on it in white ink. You're snapped out of your thoughts when the nicotine hits your system. It calms down your thinking, and you forget about it. It feels like you're forgetting a lot these days. 

“Why did you reject her? She was really pretty.” you ask, your eyes not meeting his, instead focusing on the glowing billboard in the distance. Matty frowned at you.

“Yeah, she was, but you know id rather not fuck someone i dont know.” he takes a deep drag of his cigarette. “You know I'm not really like that.”

Matty was a performer, he performed in every aspect in his life. So did you, in a way. With fake displays of confidence and that fucking kiss, you put on a sort of show. So did Matty, honing a distinct air of nonchalance, acting unbothered by everything and everyone. 

Those performances were let down when you were around each other. You got to see a side of Matty no one else really saw, not even George, who he had known since he was about 14. He was vulnerable with you, soft even. In turn, he saw your insecurities. Insecurities that ran deep through your bones. Insecurities that were the very essence of your being.  

You smoke the rest of your cigarette in silence, leaning against the wall. A gust of wind made you shiver, goosebumps forming on your skin.

The heel of your boot stubs out the butt of your cigarette, and you turn to go back inside. Mattys hand on your arm stopped you, and you felt your breath hitch at the contact.

“Ross just messaged me,” he read the text out loud, the faint blue light illuminating his face. “Adams gone back home to shag Olivia. He said to fuck off until at least 2, and to leave him alone.”

You stare at him for a second before you answer, fuming at Adam for leaving you stranded like that. “Where are we meant to go then? Fucking tosser, leaving us like that” Matty just shrugs, and starts walking around the building to the main entrance. You follow him. 

Ross and George are at the front, and George has a tiara on his head. Matty immediately questions his choice of headwear, but he just brushes him off, saying it was a gift from the bride. Her name was Ashley, apparently. Not that it mattered, how the fuck were you gonna get home? 

All your questions were answered when George spoke: “We could go to mine? I have a pretty big shed in my garden,” Matty makes a face at the thought of sleeping in someone's garden shed, but then again, it was better than being homeless for the next eight or so hours. 

“We could all crash there, it even has a mattress in it.” 

The four of you decide to walk the 45 minutes to Georges house, seeing as there werent any busses going in that direction at 11 o’clock at fucking night. Fuck Adam. 

George fumbled with the key to the shed for a solid minute before finally getting it open, revealing the interior.     

It was littered with boxes stacked on top of various pieces of furniture. You spot an old mattress tucked up against the wall. It looks dirty, and you wonder if sleeping on the floor might prove more hygienic than laying your face on that.

You get to work, moving boxes out of the way to reveal a red leather couch, dusty and grimy from years of storage, and a giant green sofa chair. You lugged your bag onto the chair, calling dibs. Ross groaned, sitting down on the mattress on the floor. It at least came with a blanket (if you could call a duvet without a sheet a blanket). 

Matty had gone with the sofa, and was now brushing as much dust off as he could, trying to get it somewhat clean. Neither one of you had any clothes to sleep in, so you opted for just sleeping in your current clothes. You hadn’t thought to bring makeup wipes, so you knew you’d be dealing with a gnarly breakout in the morning. That didn't matter to you at this point, you just wanted to pass out on the chair. You put your hair up in a ponytail, sighing as you look for a surface to put your cellphone on. Matty was stood behind you, shuffling around the sofa, trying to find a place for his giant coat. 

Everyone was getting ready to conk out, and George had already gone back to his house. He, of course, had a warm and comfortable bed waiting for him inside a heated house.   

You watched Matty as he took his shirt off, your eyes lingering for a beat longer than what was considered ‘platonic’. He had a tattoo that mirrored yours on his left hip bone. “We are kings” it read. You’d laughed at him when he showed it to you, deeming it awfully cheesy, a rose being the backdrop for the words. But nevertheless, he ignored your words. As long as he liked it, you told him. 

He had various other small, mostly meaningless tattoos littering his skin. He had let Rome practice a lot on his legs, which proved to be a mistake, given those god-awful tattoos were now going to be stuck on his body forever. It didn't seem to bother him though. He was seemingly happy just helping a friend, even if he did now have a hideous cross tattoo on his left calf.  

You had only one tattoo, the Aladdin Sane one, but you were planning on getting more the moment you could afford to not have to go to Rome for it. 

‘never again’ you thought. 

Matty had settled onto the sofa, and was now reading one of the many books that were stacked in piles in the corners of the shed. He had picked up Joan Didions ‘Slouching toward Bethlehem", scanning the pages intently. 

You don't know at what point you fell asleep, but you were woken up by a loud crashing noise. You shoot up, greeted by a stabbing pain in your upper back and shoulder. Fuckkkkk. 

The chair had made you fall asleep in a god-awful position, your neck hanging off the edge of it. The source of the noise was, of course, Matty knocking over the once source of light: A metal lamp that was conveniently placed right in the middle of the tiny shed. 

He cursed at the lamp, and then at George for deciding to put it there. George couldn’t hear him, since he was comfortably sleeping in his own bed inside of the house. Fuck. him. 

Matty looks at you, apologizing for waking you up. Ross was nowhere to be seen, and you assume he’d already left.

Your hand reaches for your back, trying to soothe the pain by rubbing it. It didn't help, and you lay back in defeat. 

“What's got you so prissy this morning?” Matty asks, cocking an eyebrow. You shoot him a glare, not in the mood for his comments. 

“It’s all Adam's fault! If he hadnt acted like a fucking dickhead and left us stranded just to shag Olivia, I would’ve fallen asleep in my own bed, and not some dusty chair in a shed! A fucking shed!”You were frustrated to say the least, your hands moving erratically around you, showcasing said frustration. “My back is killing me, I cant move, and Ross has fucked off god knows where.” You feel tears well up in your eyes, too embarrassed to look at Matty.

You were tired and in pain. All because Hann couldn't keep his dick in his pants. You mentally flip him off. 

“I could give you a massage, if you want,” Matty offered, seeing how the whole night had affected you. “And you're right, Hann’s a total cunt for doing that.” He added, making you break out into a smile at his words. He had that effect on you. You calmed down 

He motioned for you to sit down on the floor in front of the leather sofa, and you did. You took off your shirt, feeling a sudden pang of insecurity run through you. You had been half naked in front of Matty loads of times, so why was this different? 

The sudden pressure of Mattys rough hands on your shoulder blade made you groan, relieving some of the tightness in your back. 

“Thanks mate, you're a legend.” Matty chuckles at your words, humming in response. He goes on for about 10 minutes, All is going great, and your back feels better. That is, until Ross comes rushing through the door. He freezes when he sees you in your bra, shielding his eyes and spinning around to face the door. 

“Fuckin hell, why are you naked? And why are Mattys hands on you?” Ross borderline shouts, his voice seeming panicked. 

“Jesus Ross, stop acting like I'm the first half naked girl you've seen in your life,” you start, Mattys laugh interrupting you. “You can turn around, Matty’s just giving me a massage.” 

He does turn around, avoiding looking at you. You roll your eyes. Unbelievable. 

He grabs his jacket, and leaves as quickly as he came. Matty taps your shoulder, signaling you to get up. You put your shirt back on, and grab your bag from the pile of boxes. Your back still aches, but the massage did help. You tell him as much.

“It's no thing, all good,” He mutters, closing the door of the shed behind him. You now have to figure out how to get ‘round the side of the house without George’s parents seeing you. How would he explain that? “Oh yeah, forgot to tell you, three people slept in the shed last night. Tea?” 

Nevertheless, you manage to get out unnoticed, setting off home. The walk was incredibly long, stopping at a wetherspoons along the way to have a piss. It took some bickering with the barista to let you use the bathroom even though you weren't customers. It ended with Matty giving her his number, promising to take her out as a thank you. That same jealousy bubbled up inside of you as he handed her the piece of paper with a wink. 

It didn't matter, you decided. It was fluke, you were just tired and angry at Adam for being a massive fucking cunt and leaving you. You swore you’d kill him when you saw him next. 

By the time you made it home, it was almost 8:30. Hoping and praying your mother hadn't woken up yet, you slid the window open. Nothing. She was asleep.  

Matty helped you up, grabbing you by the sides. His hands lingered for a second too long, squeezing the flesh of your hips. You swore you could see a faint blush spread across his face. No. You were imagining it. He was just red from lifting you. Definitely. 

He held out his arms, enveloping you in a warm hug goodbye. You felt like crying. You really didn't want him to leave. The hug lasted what seemed like forever, your hands stroking his back. He somehow sensed this, and held you even tighter. 

“I'll pick you up at half ten, alright? Just us.” you liked the sound of that, nodding your head in agreement. “No Adam or Ross to fuck us off, we’ll get hammered and walk around. That sound good?” You nod again, brushing some of his hair out of his face. 

This is the first time in a while you'd gotten to properly look at him. You observed his features. Eye bags caressed the skin under his eyes, making him look tired. He was still beautiful, his pale skin glowing in the light of the morning. Brown eyes glazed over and full of sleep pierced yours. You felt like he was looking into your soul. He saw you. 

He pulled away, your hand lingering on his arm before returning to your side. He turned around to leave, and every fiber of you wanted to shout after him to stay. You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Defeated, you turned around and hopped off the window sill and into your bedroom. 

Your bed was calling your name, and you flopped onto it, not bothering to change. You desperately needed a shower, but your body would not move. Sleep took over your body as you settled into the cold sheets of your bed. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the first time in your life, Matty was drunker than you were. Stumbling down the road, cursing at cars driving past for no apparent reason. The half a bottle of vodka already in his system was being washed down by a bottle of red wine, currently sloshing onto his shirt. You weren't completely sober either, but you’re pretty sure you’d never seen Matty this wrecked. Ever.

“I need a piss,” Matty announces, searching your surroundings for the nearest gas station. You weren't quite certain where you were, the darkness of the cloudy night obstructed your view. 

You were walking on the side of some highway or other, seeing as there was barely a sliver of pavement to keep you from getting hit by a car. The honking finally made sense. 

Matty spots a gas station in the distance, and takes off running down the street in its direction. A drunk Matty was definitely faster than a sober one, you take note, hauling ass after him.

By the time you’d made it inside, Matty was already throwing himself at a traumatized looking gas station attendant, basically climbing over the counter to get to her. 

You grab him by the shirt, tugging him backwards. Apologizing profusely, you ask where the bathroom is. The blonde girl points timidly to the sign hanging above a hallway off to the side, labeled ‘Unisex Toilet’. You thank her, before realizing Matty had once again escaped your line of sight and was now yelling at the drink cooler. 

“It's absolutely mad, the amount of drinks they offer! That can't be good for the environment!” He slurs his words, making meaningful eye contact with a can of cherry cola.

“Climate change is a real thing you know, don't let the people fool y-” you cut him off, apologizing to the now even more terrified worker, ushering him towards the loo. 

“Fuckin hell, what did you do that for?? I was just inquiring on the importance of-” his expression changed drastically “fuckfuckfuck get out my way!” you knew that look. Matty was about to hurl all over you if you didnt move now. 

He bolted to the nearest stall, dropping to his knees as the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed made its reappearance in the toilet bowl. Your hands moved to get his hair out of his face. You whisper small ‘oh god’s whilst stroking his hair, knowing throwing vodka up couldn't be pleasant. You weren't sober in the slightest, but you had to pull yourself together to help hi.

Matty had done this for you multiple times, holding your hair whilst talking you through it. 

“Jesus Matty, you have got to pace yourself,” you say, your voice having a slightly serious tinge to it. He genuinely worried you.

“Oh fuck off mate, leave me alone.” he spat, the tone of this voice sending a chill down your spine. He had never, in your three years of friendship, spoken to you like that. You gripped his hair tighter, letting out an annoyed sigh, not knowing how to react. He was wasted, but he had been wasted before. Never like this.

“Are you deaf?? I said fuck off!” His words dripped with venom, his voice amplified in the confines of the bathroom. Your eyes widen in shock, letting go of his hair. It falls into his face, obscuring it. 

The bathroom stills when he finally stops retching, having emptied the contents of his stomach fully. Time seemed to slow for both you and him, making the room spin.

Suddenly, you hear sobs coming from beneath you. Matty was crying. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckkkkk. What do you do? Comfort him? Leave him alone to cry it out? Definitely not. 

You drop down to your knees, trying to get a look at his face. Vomit covered the edges of his mouth, spit dripping down into the toilet. Everything reeked of cheap vodka and cigarettes, but you blocked out the smell. 

“Please dont look at me..” you hear, his voice shaking as he brings a hand up to wipe his mouth clean. It gets on his sleeve, but he doesn't seem to care. Your hand finds its way into his hair, massaging his scalp in that way he likes. A whimper leaves his mouth, catching you off guard. Another sob. Tears drip down his face, and he finally turns around to face you. 

“Christ Matty, what's gone wrong with you?” you ask, your voice breathy, the alcohol making you hazy. He just shakes his head, bringing his knees up to his chest. His eyes are glued to the floor, too scared to look at you. 

“Dont know whats wrong with me,” he starts, finally looking up. He doesn't look you in the eye, instead looking behind you. Past you. “Maybe I had too much to drink, I dunno.” You crack a smile. No shit he had too much to drink. 

“Lay off the vodka for a bit, it makes you mad. You almost jumped the poor girl behind the counter.” you laugh, trying to lighten the mood a bit, still too drunk to be put down by Mattys crisis. 

“I don't want to get up, I feel so heavy” he slurs, obviously still drunk. “Nah, you know we need to leave, or else they’ll kick us out for trespassing or something. We’ve been in here ‘bout an hour already.” You look at an imaginary watch on your wrist, making him giggle. 

His eyes are half closed as he watches you get up from your spot next to him. You use the stall walls for balance, not wanting to come crashing down. Extending a hand to Matty, he pulls himself up with you. The both of you stumble outside of the stall, and you take a look at yourself in the mirror. Jesus, both of you look like you've been through hell.

Your makeup smeared down your face, your lipgloss long gone. Mattys hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction imaginable. There was vomit on his shirt and chin, trailing down his neck. You look at his reflection in disgust, and tell him as much. 

He takes his coat off, along with his shirt. He runs his face under cold water, washing any vomit off of it. He stared at himself, his eyes empty. Your voice made him look at you. 

“Let's not overdo it like this again, it proper sucked” you knew you sounded like you were joking, but you couldn't be more serious. “I'm still a bit drunk, and I think you are too. Food?”

He nods at you, and takes your bag out of your hands, stuffing his tshirt into it. Putting his coat back on, you can see the skin of his chest peek out from underneath it. You look away, taking the bag back from him. As you emerge out of the loo, you nod in the direction of the girl behind the counter. Matty announces he's run out of cigarettes, and goes to buy more. The girl hands him a pack of parliaments, and he slides a tenner over to her, telling her to keep the change. 

The air outside is cool, colder than inside the bathroom. The smell of petrol fills your nostrils and you breathe. “Maccies?” He asks, pointing to the sign across the road. You smile, crossing the road together, desperately needing some grease in your system.

He places both your orders for you, taking the number and sitting down. Your food arrives, looking as good as mcdonalds at 1 in the morning can look. You take a bite out of your food, and reach for your shared fries. Mattys hand is already there, and your fingers brush against each other 

You pull your hand back and it feels as if you've been shocked by something. Matty seems as unbothered as ever, munching away at his chicken burger (yes, chicken). You stare at him until he looks up at you, your eyes quickly redirecting to your own food. Everything feels weird. Breathing feels hard as your heart pounds in your chest 

You're just drunk, stop it.  

“What do you wanna do after?” He says, licking the grease off of his fingers. You can still see his chest, the pale skin a stark contrast to the dark, fluffy material of his coat. His hair was down, covering a large chunk of his face, he desperately needed to cut it. You tell him. 

“Cut it for me then, as a payment for me coloring yours,” You agree, smiling at the thought.

“I can't exactly go home, my house is too far away and i can't be arsed to pay for a taxi at this hour.” he adds to his previous statement, turning his pockets inside out, showing his lack of funds. Typical Matty, running out of money at the worst possible moment. You had used the last of your cash to pay for your food, leaving about 6 quid in your wallet.

“What about Carolines? That's not far from here.” you suggest, finishing off the last of the fries. 

Matty sipped on his cola, calculating the distance, before agreeing and getting up to leave. You take your bag, following closely behind him. Hooking his arm in with yours, you walk along the highway together, flipping off the cars that honked at you. The clouds had cleared, showing the myriad of stars glowing in the sky. You stopped for a second, admiring their beauty before Matty pulled you along. He was never one for admiring nature, always a city boy at heart. 

The walk was calm, with Matty walking at your pace, instead of you at his. He hummed the melody to some radiohead. This was the first walk together you had taken in silence. Your boots clicked against the pavement, the sound almost deafening. 

Arriving at Carolines, the steps up to the terrace seemed longer than ever. The sofa was still there, though it had been moved, presumably by Ross, closer to the railing. The stars were clear as ever, illuminating Mattys face in a soft blue light. The city below was quiet, most of the lights in the buildings having been turned off. 

You steal a glance at Mattys wristwatch. 2:53am. Was it already that late?

You catch him staring at you, his eyes lingering. You felt naked, exposed, despite being more covered up than he was. Mattys gaze didn't let up, so you decided to stare back. Your eyes lock, and you immediately sober up. 

“D’you have any weed on you? I fancy a smoke,” he asked, his eyes flicking between yours and your bag. You did, in fact, have a pre rolled spliff in your makeup bag. By the time you’d taken it out, Matty had already taken his lighter out of his jeans pocket. That fucking lighter. 

He hands it to you, and you cock your head at him. 

“So you don't go begging for my coat again,” he grins, pressing the plastic into your hand. The way he articulated the word begging made you feel warm, flush almost. A blush spread on your cheeks, you could feel it. Matty either didn't notice, or just plain ignored it. Both options made you nervous. 

You light the spliff, rotating it to get an even burn. Passing it to Matty, you let him take the first hit. He does, his expression immediately changing to a more relaxed one. ‘He looks fucked out’ you think, observing the way his eyes drooped half closed. His hair fell into his face as he laid down onto your lap, letting his head rest on your thighs. 

You take a drag, ashing onto the floor. The ash dwindles on the floor for a second, before going out completely. The two of you take in the glow of the city, slightly obscured by the dark gray railing, but beautiful nonetheless. 

“Do you ever feel lost?” The words slip out before you can stop them. Matty moves in your lap, turning so that he could look at you from below. His expression is unreadable. Neutral. It scares you.

“Sometimes, yeah..” his voice is soft, raspy from the smoke. He passes the spliff back to you before speaking further. “But isn't that part of it? The human experience? Feeling lost, I mean.” you can see him picking at his nails, the skin beginning to bleed. His neutral expression is replaced by something else. Worry? Anxiety? 

Matty was prone to panic attacks. They didn’t happen often, but they happened. One particular time was in a club downtown. It was Saturday night, and the place was packed to the brim. His hand grabbed yours and the look in his eyes was nothing short of terrified. His breathing was irregular, and you knew he needed to get out, now. 

That was one of the first times it happened, but it wasn't the last. You quickly learned how to deal with them. He, like you, never, ever wanted to talk about it immediately after the fact. You knew they happened when he felt trapped. In crowded spaces, in high stress situations. His hand would reach for yours as if it were the anchor to reality. 

His hand reached for yours, the coldness of his making you jump slightly. Your heart was beating so fast I couldn't see straight. His eyes met yours, searching for something. Something.

What was that something? What did he want? He squeezed your fingers, playing with the rings on your index and ring. Twisting and turning and taking them off and putting them back on. The feeling made you dizzy. 

You stayed like that, his head in your lap until the first signs of dawn hit your skin. The orange glow of the sun makes his eyes appear brighter, his hair looks lighter than it actually was. The blonde highlights were a good idea. This made him appear his age. You were just two kids 

Kids on a terrace, watching the sun rise slowly over the city. 

Not daring to move, you let yourself relax on the couch. You're tired, you haven't slept all night and you could feel the hangover start to spread its way through your body. You weren't completely present. 

You convince yourself the faint “I love you,” you heard just before you drifted off the sleep was a trick of your mind.

What else could it be? 

[hannibalismos-jaaneman]

seeing all the devil's minion craziness here is making me so fucking happy but at the same time it's giving me such a horrible feeling that they're not going to be a thing in s3 like it's LEGIT scaring me. stop jinxing it guys.