Fingernails (Mrog/Matty x George)

One: Nail Varnish

Quick warning that a slur is used repeatedly near the end of this chapter, and probably will be throughout the book.

Matty Healy stepped up the step into the school bus, feeling the thin floor begin to shudder underneath his feet as the vehicle began to retch forward once more. Using the backs of seats as support, Matty strode halfway down the bus, throwing his bag onto the window seat of a free double space, and thumping down onto the aisle seat.

He lifted his legs, bending them at the knees, and rested his feet flat against the back of the seat in front, trying not to push hard enough that they would notice the pressure against their seat. He began to trace absent-minded patterns on his left knees through his skinny jeans, enjoying the gentle sensation of contact.

Matty was almost tempted to go to sleep: he didn't have any friends on his bus- his group was a little exclusive. They weren't mean, per se, and they wouldn't avoid holding a conversation with someone if the other started it, but they certainly wouldn't walk up to someone who wasn't in their little clique and strike up a conversation. It just wasn't done.

He didn't, though. Instead, he unzipped his back pack, reaching a hand into the canvas bag and feeling around for something to do. It was midway through the school year: February, and so his bag had accumulated a large amount of bollocks, hence Matty was pretty sure he could find something to occupy the twenty-minute journey.

After a few moments, his fingers brushed against a small glass bottle. He lifted it out, feeling the cool surface press against the pads of his fingertips: the black nail varnish that was left in his bag from last weekend.

Without really thinking about it, he began to unscrew the bottle, wincing at the harsh smell of chemicals as it breezed through the air. He carefully began to apply the liquid to his nails, trying not to get any on his skin whenever the bus went over a pothole or some other bump in the road.

He hadn't worn nail varnish to school before, and hadn't really planned to ever do so: his friends weren't particularly open-minded, and while they had seemed to be okay with his being bisexual, he wasn't sure that they would be so kind if he told them he wasn't sure about his gender- in fact, he didn't expect they were aware of there being any genders other than boy and girl at all.

But by the time he realised that they might not be completely okay with this 'femininity' he was giving himself, it was too late: his nails were already coloured, and he had no remover with him. If he were being completely honest with himself, he would admit that one of the girls around him would have nail varnish remover on them, but, if he were being equally as honest, he would also point out that he didn't really care.

Because, if any of us are being honest with ourselves, what's the point in being that popular anyway? Matty was certain that as long as he had one or two people close enough to have his back, he wouldn't have a problem, and even if all the people he was friends with left him, he wouldn't have any trouble finding new friends.

And as Matty was gazing at his freshly-painted fingernails, a boy he had never spoken to was watching him from a few seats behind, gazing with his head tilted slightly to the right, admiring Matty's hands and legs and hair.

The boy watching didn't mean to be weird, or creepy: it was just that he found Matty Healy to be truly beautiful; a sight which he could not bring himself to look away from, despite Marika chattering away to him by his side.

"-And so I told her that I'm into her in this text, and she didn't reply for, like, half an hour, which was very stressful, but then I got a notification and I was like 'fucking finally', and I totally expected complete rejection because Amber's always been so gal-pal-y with me, but it turned out she's totally into me too, isn't that awesome, George?"