show me yours | matty healy

chapter sixteen

December 8th 2013

It was exactly as he said, he took her to see a band of his friends on the smaller stage in the afternoon, then they went to a fancy restaurant, had a fancy meal and he walked her back.

She invited him up, he said no, but promised to see her the next day.

She smiles watching him leave down the corridor, she doesn't notice Matty leaning against his doorframe.

"No shag?"

She closes her eyes briefly with a sigh, before turning around to him, "No, Matty, no shag." She says, turning and knocking on the door.

"Afraid he won't beat the first time?"

She pauses, hand stilling above the door and she glances over at him. He seems to realise what he'd said at the same time as her and he stands a little straighter, "Sorry, I... I don't know where that came from."

"What are you doing?"

"What?"

She sighs, "What are you doing, Matty? Why are you here right now?"

He clears his throat and kicks his door open a little wider, "I knew you didn't have a key, Ross went back to some girls hotel. He's not in there."

She sighs with a nod, "Uh, which rooms Ad's?"

"Adam, George, John and Zishaun had to stay in the hotel across the street, remember? Rooms were double booked."

"Who are you bunking with?" She asks, arms wrapped around herself.

"Last night Jamie but his missus came out here to surprise him so they're across the way too."

"So... no one?"

Again he shows the kicked open door and she sighs, "Will you walk me across? Please?"

He looks down at himself, he's got no shirt on and has some old joggers with holes in questionable places, then he lifts an imaginary watch to his face, "It's three in the morning."

"Please?"

"No."

"Matt-"

"Just, get in." He says holding it open, "I have a bed and some clothes."

She waits for a few seconds in the hallway, then sighs and steps inside despite her better judgement.

Matty watches her as she kicks her shoes off, lining them up neatly against one wall as his lay kicked on top of each other just beside them.

He watches her hand flex as she pauses looking at them, desperate to fix them and line them up beside her own. A task she would usually just complete without much thought.

Instead she lets her fidgeting hand fall to the bag on her shoulder and only glances back at the shoes twice. The first as she places the little black leather bag onto the table where Matty's tote bag resides and then again as she moves to the mirror to untie her hair from the half up half down braid style she'd made George do for her that morning.

When she turns around again Matty is lying against the headboard, phone in hand and there's a t-shirt and boxers on the end of the bed.

The t-shirt is again, one of hers, an old Fiona Apple t-shirt from when she played in London back in 2006.

She doesn't comment on it this time, she closes the bathroom door until it clicks, takes off the long sundress she's wearing and changes into the clothes.

Her neatly folded clothes are placed on the floor beside his closed suitcase and as she stands she risks a glance at his shoes.

She pauses slightly, feeling his eyes on the back of her head she acts as if she was just tying her hair up. Acting as if it wasn't the fact that his shoes are now lined up against the wall beside her own that momentarily froze her.