The lightning flashed like a strobe light as I lay there in the unfamiliar bed, trying to make out the silhouettes of the furniture in the room. Oliver had long been asleep - I'd been restless as my stomach turned itself in knots. Thunderstorms were soothing for me, I tried to rid myself of the pit in my stomach by concentrating on the heavy downpour. I exposed a bare leg from underneath the covers in an attempt to cool myself down, the post-sex heat was unbearable combined with the hot and sticky night. Guilt had washed over me, Oliver and I could never be, was it wrong for me to keep him at my beck and call when I needed to be undone? Most definitely. I carefully slipped out of bed, throwing back on my clothes left in a messy pile on the floor. It's not that I didn't enjoy it, something felt almost immoral. I longed for my own bed back at my apartment, empty and cool and beckoning me even in the pouring rain. Was that too low? I was dreadful at communication; I wasn't planning on changing that night. I knew it was wrong - so I left a note.
Thank you for the wonderful night, you were great company and the food was divine. But I'm afraid this cannot be, I apologise for making you think otherwise.
Take care,
E x
The front door was locked, I searched for a key but had no luck. I tiptoed to the sash windows and pulled them up, the sound of the thunder much louder than what it was before and the lightning lit up the silvery pavement. I pulled the window back down behind me as I stepped out; heavy droplets were already falling down my back. I half jogged/ fast-walked home - getting drenched was inevitable so I'd chosen to embrace it. The rain didn't wash away the guilt like I'd hoped, the closer I got to my apartment the worse I felt. Yet I was still desperate to get back and clean myself up from the rain and from the mess Oliver had left. The trembling he'd caused in my legs had subsided - the thrill had shrivelled up into nothing more than a feeling of impure filth. I only knew how to run away, I wouldn't want to anchor myself to a person whose ship would eventually drift off-shore into tumultuous waves as I'm dragged limply behind it.
My key slotted into the lock of my apartment door on the second stab, my hands slipped from the drenching rain. I breathed in a sigh of relief at the sight of my familiar space; the warm comfort from the yellowish lightbulbs bringing it to life in the early morning darkness. I ran a hot bath before stripping down and clambering into the heat, causing my limbs to tingle. I washed and washed until I was sure there was absolutely no trace of Oliver left on me, the scent of his Pengaligon's aftershave still lingered in my nostrils. There was nothing more pleasant than a warm bath and stepping out to pat yourself down with a warm, fluffy towel. My pyjamas had never felt more comfortable and I shuffled to my inviting bed before collapsing into it, pulling the cotton sheets over me. My eyelids drooped and I buried my head in my pillow, my ears rang slightly from the alcohol I'd drank. My eyelids snapped open as my rest was interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing. Bleary eyed, I groaned and snatched it off my bedside table and rolled my eyes at the caller ID.
"What do you want, Matty? It's nearly five in the morning." I answered dryly, all I could make out from the other end was some unintelligible grumbles and groans.
"Fuck's sake, what's going on?" There were a few moments silence; just as I was about to hang up the phone he slurred out a sentence.
"I can't go back."
"Where are you?"
"Dunno."
"Are you near my place?" Reluctantly, I began to crawl out of my bed and look for my keys and some shoes to throw on.
"Near the cafe." He slurred once again and I heard him start to dry heave.
"Stay where you are, I'm coming to get you." I assumed he meant the cafe we'd gone to that time, which wasn't too far away. I ran in the pouring rain wearing my rather unflattering baby blue pyjamas with little sheep on them. My freshly washed hair was soon soaked from the rain - I carried on until I was near the cafe. I couldn't see him, until I saw a dark mass draped on the pavement.
"Christ, what's happened to you?" My voice wavered in slight panic, I shook him gently and rolled him onto his back. At first I thought he was dead, his eyes drooped and his breathing was almost too shallow for me to notice. "Get up, I'll take you back okay?"
I dragged him up and pulled his arm over my shoulder and we hobbled back. His behaviour was sluggish and he hadn't spoken a single coherent sentence since I'd found him. It felt different to when he was drunk at my apartment that one time, very different. I prayed nobody would see us, but I couldn't think of anyone that would be so desperate to stand out in the torrential rain at five in the morning just to get a picture of us. The walk back felt like a thousand years, I huffed when we finally reached my apartment and braced myself for the stairs. He slipped a couple times, nearly falling back down to the ground floor.
"Come on, we're nearly at the top now." I panted as I grasped onto him. We fell through the front door of my apartment, he couldn't stand to begin with but I fell by his side from the workout I'd just endured. When I'd caught my breath, I stood up and shut the door before running to get a towel to dry Matty off with.
He'd sat up when I got back to him, he looked to be dozing off as his head bobbed up and down.
"What's happened, hey?" I dried his hair off slightly until I stopped to look at him, waiting for a response. At first, he said nothing. A warm teardrop rolled down his cheek and I pushed it away with my thumb,
"Relapsed." He whimpered.
"Why?"
He shrugged his shoulders, I sighed and pondered for a moment.
"I don't like the thought of leaving you on your own at the minute." I didn't receive a response, just a couple head bobs. "Let's get you in bed."
My own strength surprised me when I managed to haul him over my shoulder, fireman style, and throw him onto the bed. It was hard work, but I tucked him in and left a glass of water on the bedside. I thought he'd better have my bed in this state. As much as I was looking forward to being wrapped under my own covers in my own bed, I'd cope on the pullout sofa for the night. I left him for a moment as I pulled out the sofa bed, too lazy to make it properly so I instead just threw a blanket over it. I rubbed my temples and padded back to my bedroom where Matty lay, tucked up like a new-born in a hospital blanket.
"I'll be just down the hall, alright? If you need anything at all I'll be there." I mentally thanked myself for returning home when I did, I didn't dare to think where he might've ended up if I hadn't come and got him. I waited, no response again except for a grunt.
"Goodnight, Matty." I began to walk out,
"Esther," he slurred,
I whipped my head back around to look at him again. "Yes?"
"I love you."
"Okay. Goodnight." I turned my back quickly and made my way back to the sofa, climbing under the blanket. I'm sure he won't remember that in the morning, I'll pretend I don't.
YOU ARE READING
PSYCHOMACHIA // matty healy
Hayran Kurgu"The studio was shared and it was a pain bumping into other bleary-eyed musicians other than your band mates at three o-clock in the morning, especially when the person you bump into is a pretentious, egotistical wanker who you were up against for b...
