PSYCHOMACHIA // matty healy

15.

"Hello, it's me. I hope this is still your number, if it is then call me back. I think I'm ready to talk now." I sighed and hung up my voicemail to Matty, well, hopefully Matty. I had rang a couple of days after he sent me his gift, I needed time to decide what I would say to him whilst I was still left with the permanent, embarrassing reminder that was the Christmas party. It had been a particularly stressful few days, we were finalising the last details of our tour for the newest album and as much as I loved travelling and performing, I was going to miss the freedom of my own apartment. Being able to shower or have a bath whenever I wanted, walk to the studio at any time of day and not sleep in a moving vehicle as well as recovering from jet lag. It would probably do me good to get out, though.

I patiently spent the day waiting for a phone call, pacing my apartment between calls from my management, exciting me slightly I would hear my ringtone and hurriedly check the caller ID. The night drew in, taunting me with the day's end. I mindlessly scrolled through my social media timeline, something I hadn't done in months and I quickly realised why. I wasn't sure what to do with myself, I wasn't hungry, I wasn't particularly thirsty, I contemplated a wank but couldn't muster up the energy even though I was wired. As I started my hundredth lap around my flat, my door buzzed. I wanted to rush over, but if it was who I thought it was I didn't want to seem to eager. I made my way to the buzzer and waited twenty seconds before pressing it,

"Hello?"

"Hey."

A big grin formed on my lips, if anyone saw me I would've been easily mistaken for the Cheshire Cat.

"Hey, doors open." I replied back to Matty. I wished I'd worn something a bit nicer rather than my long green skirt and black, distressed jumper. I hadn't any makeup on, but I did have time to run to my bathroom and spritz my perfume. I attempted to brush the creases out of my clothes before he approached my door, I swung it open wide once he knocked and flashed him a warm smile. He had on a blue jumper, similar to mine, and a raggedy coat with pieces of abstract drawings stapled to the back which I noticed when I went to hang it up. I let him wander in and take in his surroundings,

"It is just how I remember it." He laughed in disbelief,

"It's not been that long," I chuckled, "Tea? or something stronger?"

"What are the options?"

"Yorkshire tea, echinacea, ginger and Manuka honey-"

"Doll, that wasn't quite what I meant." He stopped me and smiled,

I sighed, "Is this a special occasion?"

"I would say so,"

"I have a forty five year old scotch, if you like scotch."

"I do like a scotch, I must admit."

I searched for my whiskey glasses, delicately picking up two crystal glasses with an almost geometric design on the bottom of them. I poured a healthy amount of scotch into the two, plopping an ice cube into mine.

"Ice?"

"Just one cube, if you'd be so kind."

We sat on my sofa, facing opposite each other. I took a swig of the scotch, I had been saving it for a special occasion since my birthday and I supposed now was as good a time as any.

"Oh, wow. This is something else," He took another glug from his glass,

"It's divine, isn't it?" I tittered. We both looked at each other, as if we had so much to say yet not a place to start. I looked into his eyes for the first time in a long time, sparkling more than when we first became close. There was a warmth in his cheeks from the cold and a slight stubble around his chin, I could feel myself sweat under his gaze, fearing what he was to say or who would break the silence.