A World Alone

Chapter 7: Love is a battlefield

Until about three weeks ago, I knew nothing about Matt Litter. You could tell me I've just talked to him at a birthday party, I just walked across him on the street, or that I asked him for a smoke at a party, and I wouldn't know who you were referring to.

You could also talk to me about Free the Doves, but I suppose I would've frowned and think about it for a few seconds, and then I would've remembered how I met the singer at a red carpet a couple of years ago, when my mom still lived here and her husband had made a movie which featured a collab between another artist and this guy. I would've also remembered how handsome he looked in my eyes, and how much I wanted to be noticed by him, even at that age. I feel so stupid looking back, to be honest, because that guy's like ten or more years older than me, and you've got no idea how childish I looked at fifteen, and I probably still do, but teenagers do those things... I mean, I probably still do them. Of course it's disgusting (not to mention it's pretty much illegal) when it happens the other way around, but... we do get crushes, so many of them.

On Tuesday morning I get to Matt's home only to discover him cleaning up that strange, 'not so secret room', as I call it. He's holding an album in his hands and is sat on the floor with a gloomy expression on his face. I think I'm getting used to this, if I'm honest, because he's usually like this when he's thinking too much or talking much more than usual... as he does when he talks about his music, his band, or both.

"Hey Matt," I greet him, as I make myself home in his quiet house, looking for him through the different rooms. "I just had the most amazing idea regarding the back of the house," I tell him, as soon as I see him in that particular room, "you won't believe it— what happened?" I ask, as I approach him, wondering what's wrong with him because it's barely nine, he's got no coffee around, and he's inside this room he always sounds as if he never visits.

"Oh, hi kid," he says, as he briefly looks up at me, "how are you?"

"I'm good... how are you?" I ask, confused, as I try to take a look at the album he's holding. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, it's my house," he answers, without looking at me.

"Yeah, I'm perceptive, but, I just—" I shrug, and he nods, because he understands what I mean.

"Oh, you mean what am I doing here having a trip down on memory lane... I don't know," he admits, "I just— I woke up at like five and couldn't sleep, so I just turned on the TV and found them there, and— what's worse... I was there, too," he admits, as he handles me the album he's holding. I take a look at it, confirming what I already believed —it's a Free the Doves album, one that's called Given to Fly and features different chains breaking as the artwork. At the back, it's got a photo of the band, which of course means a young, almost teenage-looking, baby-faced Matt is there, too. "It looks cool, doesn't it?" I smile, although I really do it just to please him. I never know what to do in these moments, you know? Right now, I just sit down next to him and around some of the boxes that compose this room.

"It does, yeah," I admit, still looking at the album.

"It sounds even cooler," Matt tells me, smiling a little bit.

"What's with this memory lane trip you've been having lately?" I ask him, making him laugh.

"Oh, you just— you don't wanna know," he tells me, shaking his head. And yes, of course I respect his decision but —I truly want to know. I guess he can see it in my face, though, because he quickly looks back at me and tries to smile. "I've been invited to play with... some friends," Matt confesses, much to his apparent displeasure, "and I just... don't know what to do with it, if I'm honest..."