infatuation // m.h

2

"You said you loved me! You promised me!" I screamed, slamming the glass onto the table with so much force that it shattered in my hand. The glass shards flew across the table and some of them cut my hand. My vision was hazy, but I managed to see the blood dripping off my hand.
"Shit, Nikki." Matty said, coming towards me and taking my hand in his. He examined it with his hair falling into his face. He pulled a few pieces out of my palm, despise me wincing and gripping his other arm in pain. Once the shards were out of my skin, more blood flowed and pooled in my palm.
"Oh god, shit." I mumbled, stumbling off to the bathroom to clean myself up.
I could feel Matty following me with a slight smirk. He knew I still loved him. I'd always love him. He knew I was his. I knew it too. We belonged to each other. I couldn't stay angry at him.
"God, you fucking asshole." I said with a slight laugh in my voice, catching his smirk in the bathroom mirror. I tried to hide my own smile by turning my head and wrapping the bandage I'd found around my hand. I fussed over my bloodied hand for a little bit, Matty watching me from the door.
"I'm sorry. It never meant anything. She pushed herself onto me." He said, walking towards me.
"I know. You're still an asshole though." I said. I knew he didn't really want to kiss the girl at the club. I knew that the girl had pushed herself onto him. I knew I'd overreacted. But it broke my heart seeing him kiss another girl.
"You didn't kiss her back, did you?" I asked, meeting his eyes.
"Of course not." He replied.
"Okay." I said.
"I love you so fucking much." He said quietly, wrapping his arms around my waist and brushing my hair away from my neck.
"Honestly?" I asked, turning to face him. I suddenly felt like I had to make sure I knew he loved me as much as I loved him. I knew we were obsessed with each other. I knew this would be the death of me.
"Yes." He said without hesitation, turning me around and pressing me against the bathroom sink to kiss me. I tipped my head back and he attached his lips to my neck. He knew the spot, just under my jaw, that always made me moan.

"How's your hand?" He asked between kisses.
"Much better." I breathed. I was putty in his hands and he knew it.
He gripped my thighs and sat me on the bathroom sink.
"Seriously, is your hand okay? Does it hurt?" Matty asked. He was genuinely worried about me.
"A little. But it's fine." I admitted.
"I know how to make it better." Matty said, grabbing my legs and wrapping them around his waist. He carried me to the couch and he sat down. He pat his lap and I straddled him.
"So how are you going to make it better?" I asked.
Matty pulled out rolling papers and rolled a spliff for us to share. He wasn't sloppy, and he rolled it quickly.
"I see." I laughed quietly.
Matty lit the spliff and took a deep inhale, tipped his head back and blew the thick smoke up in rings above us. He watched the rings dissipate into nothing. I leaned over to put some music on.
I took the blunt from him and took a puff, blowing the smoke into his face. He smiled, playing with my fingers.
"I love you so much." I said, taking his face in my hands. I winced as pain blossomed in my hand.
"Ouch." I said, taking my hand away from his face.
Matty bit his lip.
"What's is it?" I asked.
"I want to touch you. But I don't want to hurt you." He said, a flicker of lust in his eyes.
I took another deep puff of the spliff.
"Roll another and I'll be fine." I said. Matty nodded, rolling a second smoke hastily.
He took the first from me and handed me the second. I took a few hits and was feeling better.
The best way I can describe the feeling is: clouds. I felt like I was floating in clouds, everything was hazy and soft and quiet and dulled and beautiful.
"I'm sorry. This was my fault. But I love you." Matty said, pointing to my bandaged hand.
"I can't stay angry at you. It's okay. I love you too. I can't feel it anymore." I said.
"That's good." He said.
"I'm sorry I threw your drink at you." I said with a slight giggle.
"It's okay. But my hair smells." He laughed.
"So you're not mad at me any more?" He asked.
I shook my head. I really couldn't bare time away from him. Staying angry at him only caused me more pain.
"How do I make it up to you?" Matty asked me.
"Surprise me." I said, closing my eyes and taking another hit of the spliff.
Matty kissed my knuckles one by one, his dark eyes flicking to meet mine sometimes.
His hands glided over my skin, my thighs, my arms, my neck. He teased the fabric of my blouse up, his fingers leaving trails of goosebumps on my stomach and sides.
Matty smirked and placed his hands on the sides of my hips. He looped his thumbs in my belt loops. I rocked my hips against his thigh slowly, desperate for friction. I quickened the pace and he kissed my neck.
"Babe, this isn't enough." Matty said, looking desperate. I could feel him under his jeans.
"Then let's go further." I said, pulling off my shirt. I undid the buttons on his. He slid the fabric off his arms and threw it across the room, his eyes never leaving my body.
We'd done this hundred times, and each time he made it feel like a first. He looked at me like I was a goddess.

He always wakes up first. I always find him sitting, writing quietly at his desk. I know he's writing about me. I always ask to read it but he rarely lets me. Sometimes he'll whisper lines he's written about me as he thinks I'm falling asleep. I always hear them.
"Come here," I whisper groggily. It must be mid morning, maybe ten. It's Sunday. "The bed's cold."
He looks at me with wide eyes. I know my hair must be a mess and my makeup is probably smudged, and the sheets are crumpled and wrapped around me.
"What?" I ask with a grin, hiding behind the sheet.
"You. You look beautiful. Stay there. Don't move." He said quickly, running out of the room. He came back with his old polaroid camera and before I could stop him, he took a photo of me.

(A/N: I know these chapters are short, but it's easier to write - and means I'll update more frequently x)