thousandfourhundreddays - Tumblr blog

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“13 men can’t all be the villains” ABSOLUTELY CORRECT👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼

The thing is ...Joe Alwyn is going to be alright. He's going to find him a decent English girl and he will have his family along with his mental stability. He's going to be alright after this storm just like Calvin, Tom, Harry and all the other men that came before. Even Matty is going to be alright. Despite his reckless behaviours and his choices of words, he will learn from these mistakes and move on. John Mayer moved on too. He had his therapy/rehab...he lives a private life...with his radio show and his live shows once in awhile. Time will move but Taylor Swift will remain if she doesn't get HELP! Unforgiveness is not good...vengeance is never good.

But only Human Beings and Adults with experiences would understand this. The two year olds will throw tantrums behind a keyboard.

I personally don't know any of Taylor Exes...but I know there is always 3 side to a story.

13 Men can't all be the villains...love...I've been listening to you since I was 13 and spinning around in my Fearless Dress..🙃

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Currently on hold to the bank… I’m only 20 years old… I’m way too young to be adulting🥲

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Birthday Wish

A/N: Matty’s 35th birthday festivities have begun!! Which you can find here.

Warnings: small mentions of smut.

Are you sure you can’t stay?” Denise eyed her son, skeptically, her natural instincts telling her that something wasn’t quite right with Matty. “You haven’t even finished your cake.” She nodded towards the plate in his hand, which he set down on the dining table as she spoke.

“I’ve had half. That’s enough.” He replied softly.

“You wanna take some home with you?”

He smiled, and she knew, by the look in his eyes, that he wasn’t too keen on the idea but didn’t have the heart to say no to her.

She shrugged. “Suit yourself, then.”

“Love you mum.” He kissed her cheek, reaching for his leather jacket and cigarettes.

With one hand on the doorknob, he took out his phone and opened the messaging app.

Can I please see you tonight?

He hit “send,” pocketing his phone, and unlocking the door. It creaked open, he was almost outside when he turned back around.

“Mum? On second thought, I think I will take some cake with me, actually.”

***

“Do I really have to?” He looked up at her, laying on his stomach, his arms wrapping around her waist in an attempt to pull her closer to him.

“Yes, you do. If you want sex you’re gonna have to tell me about your day first.”

Matty huffed dramatically. “We do this every year.”

“Yeah, cuz I love hearing about your birthday.” She smiled brightly at him. “My legs are closed. Access denied. Tell me what you did today and then maybe I’ll let you.”

“Fine.” He relented. “Where do I start?”

“The very beginning, obviously.” She rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the cake by the way.” She grabbed the foil-wrapped plate off the nightstand, offering him one of the two forks.

“Right.” He watched her unwrap it. “Woke up before my alarm this morning-“

“What time?” She asked over the loud crinkling noise.

“Like around 7-ish. Stayed in bed though. For like an hour. Got up, had breakfast, went to jujitsu… that was my morning, I think.”

“What’d you have for breakfast?” She took a bite of cake, looking expectantly at him.

“Oh, not much. Just a coffee and a banana cuz I didn’t want to overdo it before a session- erm- is this really necessary??”

“Yes. I like knowing what you get up to. I never really get to see any of that. You’re always either on my screen or in my bed. I want to know that you’re human.”

His eyes sparkled when he grinned her. She tried not to let it melt her, but it was hard not to feel weak around Matty.

“Eat your cake.”

He found himself complying, digging into the cake and carrying on with his recap. “Had a protein shake afterwards though. Vanilla. Not my favorite but it’s what I had on hand.” She watched him smile as he recounted the next part. “The boys came over. Hann brought his Xbox. We set up mine on one side of the room and his on the other side and just played some video games for a while. The boys let me choose which doesn’t happen often.”

She laughed and he felt his heart skip a beat, pausing his story to cherish the sound of her voice for a moment. “Anyway, had some meetings. Boring label stuff. Then went back to the boys. This time Waughie was there too. And Jamie.”

“Oborne or squire?”

“Oh, squire….we just fucked about for a while. Wrote some songs. But not, like, real songs. Just some dumb shit about hann’s chin or whatever.” He giggled as he spoke. “Then I went to mum’s for dinner. Louis was there. Dad was there. Bunch of people. Cake.” He pointed to the slice of cake that they were sharing. “That’s where this comes from.”

She nodded, chewing slowly, her mouth too full to speak.

“And…that’s it. Came straight here.”

She set down her fork, moving the plate back to the night stand. Matty wasted no time in scooting closer to her and closing the small gap between them where the dessert had been.

“What’d you wish for when you blew out the candles?”

“Doesn’t telling people kinda ruin it or something?”

“I’ll keep it a secret. It’s only me.” She insisted, gently, batting her eyelashes at him.

She reached over to him and pushed a stray curl out of his eyes. Matty’s skin prickled with goosebumps. His breath catching in his chest. He leaned forward and grabbed onto her waist,

“I wished for this cunt.” He placed a small kiss to her clothed crotch. “To be between your legs. All night long.” She chuckled, pushing him off to look into his eyes. “No, seriously. Tell me. What does a man who has everything he’s ever needed, and the means to buy anything that he wants, wish for on his 35th birthday?”

Matty blushed, evading her eyes. “I….wished for a very quiet, very steady year where I just get to make music with my friends.“

It was an understandable wish after the year that he’s had. “Simple.” She smiled. “ I like it.”

Matty placed his head in her lap. “ just to be real, by the way, I haven’t got everything.”

“Hmm?”

“Just now you said ‘everything he’s ever needed.’ I haven’t got everything. Not everything.”

She knew what he meant. “Matty-“

“And some things…I can’t buy with money.”

“Matty, don’t do this-“

He didn’t seem to be listening. His eyes blinked slowly, feeling her fingers run through his hair

“Nothings ever going to beat that one birthday.” She knew which one he meant. But it was two years ago.

“Why are you-“

“You dumped me.”

Her hand stopped, frozen in place. She felt the air get sucked out of the room. Out of her lungs. She didn’t know what to say.

“Anyway, could I please fuck you now? Please?”

[thousandfourhundreddays]

I’ve recently discovered that I have a thing for Noel Gallagher… and that is proof that no one ever knows what life has in store for them lol

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For anyone else trying to book hotels for the Cardiff dates, I managed to book the Cardiff premier inn for about £70, not like £200 which everywhere else is charging😃 get in quick!!!!💓💓

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UMMM OK IM SEEING CATFISH IN JULY😭😭😭😭

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No shoes or socks is a wild choice

Matty, Gabbriette, Harry Clarky and Paul Gorton (traitors s2) // 20.02.24 // London N. 4, UK //

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IM IN SAINSBURYS RIGHT NOW, DO I HAVE PERMISSION TO SCREAM!?

YES YES YES! It’s confirmed ❤️❤️❤️

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ermmmm, Van McCann…. WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO ME😭

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im about to crash, im about to crash, im about to crash, im about to crash, im about to crash

Matty Healy x Brittany Jackson.

2206 words.

For once, it's not her fault. For once, it really was the wrong place, the wrong time type kind of situation and she’s completely innocent. Is Matty still going to have an attitude about it anyway? Probably.  

She bites her thumbnail as she listens to the dial tone and inspects the red marks along her palms that are becoming a garish purple shade. Blood is starting to bead around the gash in her knee, and she grimaces, looking back to the scene in front of her. The other driver looks like they’re in a complete state of shock, sitting similarly to her on the other side of the road, seemingly unharmed as the paramedics attend to them. 

“Hey, baby” Matty’s voice finally clicks through. He sounds jovial, and she’s suddenly anxious. 

“Hi,” it comes out a little bit too perky considering the situation. “Are you doing anything right now?” 

“No, why?” She can hear the back door open and close through the phone as he lets the dogs out of the house. “What's up?” 

She sucks in a breath. “Don’t be mad, I’m completely fine.” 

There’s a pause on the other end of the line before a line of questions that come too quick for her to answer. 

“What happened? Where are you?” 

“I’m ok!” She promises. “Can you come and get me though?” 

She rattles off the address and he promise to be there as quick as he can. People around her are giving statements, eyewitness accounts and trying to be helpful by diverting the still oncoming traffic around them. Someone called for an ambulance, and after being assessed, she was unsure of what to do next while she waited for Matty to arrive. 

The adrenaline that had flooded her veins the moment her car had collided with the other was starting to wane and she felt tired. She likes driving, but not in the city. London traffic was notoriously ridiculous, and she always subconsciously knew that she’d wind up in an accident sooner rather than later. All she wanted to do that day was head into the Dirty Hit office, sign a couple of things for Jamie and then possibly manipulate him into taking her out for lunch on his dime. 

Instead, she’d been in the car for no more than 10 minutes before another driver didn’t look, pulling out directly in front of her and there was nothing she could do except hit them completely head on. The seatbelt had pulled harshly along her chest, bruising forming instantly, and smoke billowed from the engines. She felt like she was on autopilot, putting the car in park, turning the radio down and getting out of the vehicle. 

She felt dazed as she looked over the scene, the smashed hood of her car, the smoking engines and the traffic still moving around them. Someone helped her to the side of the road and time slowed as things happened around her. 

When Matty’s SUV pulls up, he looks visibly stressed, eyebrows pinched as he searches among the crowd of people for her. She hisses as she stands, the shredded skin of her knees from the airbags deploying sting as she tears open the wounds again, and when her boyfriend sees her, he breaks out into a run. 

“You said you were fine!” His hands twist her head back so he can see the red marks from the seat belt, and she groans. 

“Well, hello to you too!” 

“Don’t be cute.” She knows he's worried, so she’ll ignore the way he just snapped at her. 

She lets Matty fuss over her as the tow trucks load up the cars, lets him inspect all her bruised skin and massage the back of her neck so that her whiplash doesn’t feel so brutal. He shakes everyone's hands like he’s the mayor, thanking them for helping and looking after her and she walks away the moment they’re told they can leave. 

He tries to hold her hand over the gear stick as they go home, but her palms sting too badly, so he settles for a hand on her bare thigh instead. It’s comforting and she’s too worn down to pretend it isn’t. The house is quiet when they get home, no music playing or the television still blaring because Matty got distracted and left it on while he did something else. 

She settles onto the couch, reclining on Matty’s side, and sinking down into the cushions while he makes her a cup of tea and she decides she might let him dote on her for a little while. Cuddled up together, they talk about her accident, about how there was nothing she could’ve done and quietly musing about how lucky she’d been to walk away pretty much scot-free. 

It’s only later when they finally go to bed do the events of the day start to rear its ugly head. Matty had to help her pull her undress so she could shower, then she had to call him back into the bathroom to turn the taps for her. With stinging palms, she’d pulled pajamas on, but now she’s extremely uncomfortable every time the bed sheets touch her raw and tender skin. She can’t lie on her side without her knees aching, can’t sleep without the sheets covering her because then she feels too exposed. When she closes her eyes, flashes of her car impacting the other flashes to her mind like a tape that's rewound and ready to show her the trauma over, and over again. 

“You ok?” is whispered in the dark.  

She’s glad Matty can’t see the single tear slip from the corner of her eye in the dark. She nods, choking out a quiet “yes” and trying to calm herself down so she doesn’t have a tantrum about how she wants to cuddle up to him, but everything hurts. 

“No, you’re not.” 

His palm gently slides over stomach, under her shirt and the caress is so soft, so loving, that it almost makes her cry. He massages back and forth over her ribs, one of the only safe places where he can provide comfort without causing any more pain, in soothing motions, back and forth. The material of her tank top starts to bunch above his hand, and he pushes it up higher, just underneath her breasts. 

“Don’t think about it anymore. I’ve got you.” 

The words are calming, spoken softly like an oath, a promise that he’ll never break, and she loves him so much. She’s been trying to play it cool all day, pretending she isn’t rattled and thinking about what might have happened if she hadn’t made it out alive, thinking about if she’d never make it home to him. A lump forms in her throat and it's like he knows what's going through her mind because his calming strokes change direction and begin covering the expanse of her stomach while he kisses her shoulder. 

She focuses on him and his words, the "I love you"s dripping from his lips mixed with "I’ll take care of you" and "I’m not gonna let anything happen to you ever again." She lets him take away her anxiety, pulling it from beneath her skin with every stroke of his callous hand and his thumb applying a steadying pressure to her sternum before softening his touch as it ghosts down her stomach. Every few strokes his pinky brushes the hem of her sleep shorts causing butterflies to flutter their wings and the material to drop lower on her hips and she knows he doesn’t mean to start anything, but she needs him. 

“Kiss me?” 

He wastes no time in pressing his mouth against hers, his tongue slipping between her lips as his fingers grip her waist tightly, anchoring her to the bed and against his side. She lifts her hands to touch his face, to move the curls off his forehead, to run her fingers down his scalp so tiny shivers run down his spine and he’ll groan into her mouth the way she loves. The moment her palms touch his skin though, she pathetically whimpers like a child and recoils. 

“Hey, I’ve got you.” He pulls her arms to rest over his shoulders instead. “I’m here.” 

He shuffles on the bed, wedging himself to her side, careful not to touch her legs and the burns covering the tops of her knees. His hand goes back to its soothing motions across her stomach, and she gasps against his mouth when it travels further south before rising higher up her chest, grazing the bottom of her breasts. With every deep breath, the material of her shirt drags over her hardened nipples, and she shifts her hips to find some relief. She can feel her own wetness spreading between her thighs, melting into the material of her shorts. 

“Relax,” he whispers in her ear, sucking at the hinge of her jaw. 

She nods, ignoring the twinge in her neck at the movement, and pushes all the air out of her chest, only to drop her jaw as his hand dips underneath her shirt. He rolls a nipple between his fingers, and she sinks into the mattress, letting her eyes close, intoxicated byhea his measured touch as he takes care of her. His movements are almost lazy, circling fingers, slow strokes and halfhearted pinches, but he knows her body better than she does after all these years. 

It feels like being a teenager, making out with her high school boyfriend, with how it's hardly more than heavy petting, swollen lips and gasping breaths. She loves it though, and they rarely have moments like it anymore, usually peeling their clothes off, desperate for one another after so much time apart from touring, or studio time or interviews. Her skin feels alight for him, sizzling under his touch, the tiny hairs standing on their ends and her heartbeat is so loud in her chest that she’s sure he can hear it. 

His hand slips under her shorts and she wraps her arms around his shoulders tighter, carefully holding her palms away. Her breath hitches in her chest when his fingers begin slowly circling exactly where she needs him, and it feels like she can’t breathe unless his mouth is against hers. His calloused thumb swipes over the sensitive bud between her legs and she gasps, lifting her hips in the hope he’ll add more pressure and he more than obliges her silent request. 

“I’ve got you,” his breath is hot against her ear and his gravelly voice tells her all the things she's too afraid to ask of him, too afraid to show any sign of weakness in case it thrown back in her face. 

But he’ll never let that happen. He promises it. 

“I’m gonna take care of you,” a kiss to her jaw. “Gonna be mine always,” a bite to her earlobe. “My forever girl, my soul mate,” two fingers sliding between her folds, spreading her wetness over her clit. 

She pushes an “I need you” through his lips and he finally sinks his fingers inside her. 

“You have me.” 

An almost silent gasp drops from her lips and it's not going to take her long at all until she's falling apart beneath him. She feels warm all over when his thumb slides over her in dizzying circles and his fingers curl inside her. He never stops talking, his lips constantly pressed against her ear murmuring endless declarations of love, his specialty, that makes her stomach muscles tighten and her heart race. 

(She thinks that even if he wasn’t touching her right now that he could probably get here there with his words alone.) 

Stars burst behind her closed lids as his fingers find the spot that normally renders her speechless and she whines against his lips. She can feel him moving in and out, keeping the same speed and rhythm but somehow making her feel totally weightless and like she’s travelling outside of her own body. Her back arches when she gets close and he bites her nipple through her shirt, hurtling her closer to the edge. 

She’s used to explosive orgasms with him, the kind that tears through her body, ravaging her from the inside out, but this feels completely different. It feels like she's a wave crashing against the shore, before gently retreating into the ocean. She can’t decide which she likes more. He works her through the aftershocks, nuzzling at her neck and pressing tiny kisses against her sweaty skin, slowly working his way towards her mouth. 

Kissing her gently, he withdraws his fingers, covers her up before getting out of the bed. She feels completely blissed out and can’t even open her eyes, too caught up in the euphoria he’s just given her completely selflessly. She cracks them open when the mattress dips and can feel Matty gently pulling her shorts off. 

“Close your eyes.” He tells her quietly. 

She does what she's told when she feels the warm washcloth wiping away the slick that remains between her thighs and he replaces her pajama bottoms with another pair of shorts from her drawers. 

“I love you,” she sighs, and he presses a kiss to her temple. 

[thousandfourhundreddays]

Who's ready to see Van's hair and thighs again?!! 🤭🤭😻

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IM ON THE TRAIN FROM MANCHESTER NOW WHAT THE HELL IM GONNA THROW UP

OH MY GOD ITS HAPPENING!!! 🖤

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#no because this is so real

I literally refuse to write fics because I’m SO sure I’m going to end up with Ross Macdonald and cannot have that secret when we get married

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van mccann x singer reader pls!

Masterlist

A/n I can only apologise for my severe issue with making promises I can’t keep ahahah. I don’t even know how long ago it was that I said I would write some stuff for Van and so many of you guys’ requests have been neglected in my inbox… BUT I had a couple of Van x singer reader requests so here it is, however I didn’t stick to that completely but I kinda love this so hope you enjoy anyway!!! Also kinda based on Hourglass because I lack all kinds of creativity lol. LOVE YA❤️‍🔥

Waste My Days

“You’re strugglin’” his voice floated down the line, worry seeping into his words. You sighed into the silence of your hotel room, rolling over in bed, eyes flicking across the room to see the time on the clock. 2:36 am.

“I’m ok… it’s just been none stop for so long. I’m exhausted but I just can’t get any rest” Van waited, giving you time to talk, knowing this could be the most insight into your mind he’d been able to get for a long time.

“I love being on tour, I really do. Especially this one, this has been the best yet, I’m just…”

“Exhausted” he finished for you, sensing that you were struggling to find the words.

“You know it”

Boy, did he know it.

-

“How did you sleep?”

“God, I slept so good, the best I’ve slept in weeks Van, I’m telling you”

You heard his chuckle crackle down the line. “Dreaming about me again ay, babe?”

“Always”

-

“Y/n! Your phones ringing!”

Your head shot up, following the sound of the voice that shouted across the floor of the arena. Eyes wide, you sent a look to the sound technician, a silent plea to let you have just one minute. Once you saw him nod, mixed with a slightly annoyed shrug of his shoulders, you jumped down from the stage to find your phone.

“Van?”

“Hiya, darlin’. Was about to give up then, thought you weren’t gonna answer”

“Sorry, soundcheck.” You explained, listening to him drag on a fag in some city far away.

“Aye, me too, just finished. Sorry I interrupted”

“You’re never interrupting” you replied quickly, “I’ve been dying for you to call.”

-

You felt the peel of skin as Van lifted himself off of you, a rush of oxygen filling your lungs as he flopped down next to you into the damp sheets.

One week, one singular week where your tour schedules aligned. Van came to stay at yours, with no other plans than to eat, sleep and in Vans words, “love on you”.

You watched as Van reached over to the bedside table for his cigs, you couldn’t help but reach out to him, your finger tracing the shape of his ribs through his pale skin before you heard a clatter of books fall to the floor in Vans attempt to clear a space for the mug that now doubled as an ash tray.

“Oi, don’t be messing my place up!” You poked at the space between his ribs.

“Oi!” He squeaked in that classic Van McCann squeak, flinching, trying to escape your hands, holding the now burning cigarette high above your heads as he tackled you.

“Van, watch that!” Grasping his arm, already picturing the holes that he would burn in the sheets.

aka, the best week of wasting days together.

-

“Vaaaan” you sung down the line, “please hurry!!!!!”

“Alright, babe, alright. I’m coming!” He laughed,

“I know but we have a lot of catching up to do, you know” he could practically hear your smirk through the phone.

“Oh babe, so sordid” He teased, lowering his voice into a growl so the whole of Tesco’s wouldn’t hear him. “You’re the one who wanted wine!”

“All I really ever want is you, Van”

-

“Babe! Come ere’!”

Vans voice echoed through your bedroom over the sound of the shower.

Pushing on the en suite door, the bathroom flooded with light, revealing his face peeping round the edge of the fogged shower screen, hair wet and silently reaching an arm out for you. You smiled, keeping eye contact as you pulled his old tshirt over your head, quickly loosing your underwear and letting him pull you towards him.

Van twirled you round, pressing your back against his chest, arms tangled together across the front of your body under the water.

“I’ve been thinkin bout baby names” he whispered ,

“Oh yeah?” You laughed, classic Van you thought, “A bit premature, no? I’m not even pregnant”

Van moved to rest his cheek on the top of your head, pressing a kiss to your hair before untangling his arm from yours, watching as he reached out to write on the glass.

L, Y, L, A

“Like the Oasis song” he whispered.

[thousandfourhundreddays]

tag every member as a english food shop GO

i'm not english! but ok here goes. matty sainsburys (obvious. but also because he's actually nicer than you might assume at first glance). adam m&s food hall (too good for you but also just really dependable when you need it). ross co-op (seems chill but is fancier than u expect). george tesco (does the most for you (clubcard deals my beloved) and yet is underappreciated) <3

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UGH THIS MAN

🖤

[thousandfourhundreddays]

WINTERING 7. all i want for christmas

twelve days of christmas writing prompts by @abiiors wintering masterlist previous (6)

I must have slept, since I woke up, startled and tired. I stared blearily around my room, putting myself back into reality. Maybe he’s here, I wondered, and was drawn out of bed by the idea, sneaking around my house and hunting for him. But he had left, so I turned on the shower, and turned up the heating. I called my mum with wet hair, wishing her a Merry Christmas, apologizing profusely that I was still sick. I promised to take a few days off of work to make it up to her in the new year. I looked in the mirror, pale and red-nosed, and climbed back into bed. 

“Merry Christmas,” I whispered to myself, taking two cold pills and trying to sleep. But I couldn’t, because it smelled like cigarette smoke in my room, and I was alone on Christmas, and I didn’t have the courage to call him and demand he come over. I sat up, looking through my phone for a while, and fell asleep with a video looping in my hand.

“Hey,” Matty whispered, a hand on my shoulder. I shrieked, my phone dead, falling to the floor. 

“Oh, my God,” I gasped, grasping at my heart.

He laughed, picking up my phone, “Merry Christmas!”

“When did you get back?” I sighed, sitting up. My head spun, and my eyes felt puffy and heavy. He grinned at me, grabbing my wrists and tugging me out of bed. He pulled me to the living room, practically dragging me behind him, standing beside me when he stopped.

“What–” I stuttered, voice cracking. I put a hand to my lips, looking at him, then the hurriedly-decorated tree in the middle of the room. 

“Do you like it?” He asked, scratching his neck. I looked away from him, feeling a tightness in my throat.

“What the fuck,” I laughed, covering my face. 

“I can–” he gestured to the tree widely, “I can take it down.”

“What?” I shook my head quickly, looking at him, eyes wet, “I love it.”

“Christ,” he sighed, heavy, face relaxing, “You could be a bit more clear.”

“This is so sweet,” I whispered, and threw my arms around him, burying my head in his chest, holding him until his hands carefully settled on my back. If I let go, I would let go sobbing, so I held him hostage until my breathing evened. I pulled back, slapping his chest.

“What?” He frowned, laughing.

“Don’t do these nice things for me,” I scolded, and sat on my couch. He sat on the floor in front of the tree.

“Why not?” He blinked, clueless. 

I looked at him, arms crossed as I sunk into the couch.

“Why not?” He repeated. 

I thought it would be easy to say, but my voice dried in my throat. 

“Because we’re friends?” He offered. 

I smiled, pretending that word didn’t puncture my heart, “Yeah.”

“Sorry,” he shrugged, “I just was upset you didn’t have a tree yet.”

“Is it real?” I asked, squinting at the tree.

“Yeah!” He nodded, then showed me the scratches on his hands, “Put up a good fight up those stairs too.”

I giggled, “You have needles in your hair.”

“Oh, shit,” he said, shaking his head like a dog. A few pine needles scattered to the floor. 

“Well, thank you,” I whispered, and he waved me off. 

“I got you something,” he changed the subject, tossing me a gift from under the tree.

“Wrapped and everything,” I noted, and he laughed, sounding a bit proud of himself. 

“Go on, then,” he encouraged, turning a pine needle between his fingers. I tore through the wrapping paper, only a piece of paper inside. I turned it over, frowning.

“Groceries?” I read, the only word he had scrawled on the paper.

“Yeah,” he sat back, supporting himself with his hands.

I shook my head, confused.

“Like, I’ll pay for your groceries.”

“Oh, Matty,” I scowled, “Absolutely not.”

“What’s the issue?” He laughed, “Let me pay for your groceries.”

“You didn’t even pay for the groceries when we were together!” I put the paper on his lap, “I’m not accepting that.”

“I just,” he folded the paper in half, “I just wanted to help you, a bit.”

“I can afford groceries,” I stated, which was a bit of a lie.

“I know,” he said, head tilted. 

“Why didn’t you just get me a scarf, or something?” I laughed. 

“Do you want that?” He asked, quite seriously. 

“No!” I shouted, tossing a pillow at him. 

“I’ll get you a scarf, darling,” he smiled, and I was crushed under the weight of that sweet word. 

“Can we just watch a movie?” I asked, a bit weakly. 

“Sure,” he said, “But I swear, if you put on The Polar Express–”

“I’m putting on The Polar Express.”

“Christ, save me.”

“It’s nice,” I insisted, finding the DVD in the back of my cabinet.

“Is that the same DVD?” He sighed, “That one was almost constantly skipping.”

“You can go home, you know.”

He pressed his lips together, and sat on the couch.