How to Help Howell?

Part 35

Chapter 35:

Phil

After giving Dan a stern talking to and stealing his ID card so he was incapable of buying any alcohol, I finally set out for Matt's apartment, still worrying for my reckless, but lovable boyfriend who hopefully wouldn't harm himself in any way before I got home.

His flat was only a short walk away, so I didn't bother to take the car. After walking up the stairs, I stepped right into the messy apartment with a brand new rug of crumpled up and rejected plot ideas and sketches as well as three day old laundry and Chinese food containers. Not my first choice in carpeting, but to each his own. The whole place was emitting some rotten smell consisting of spoiled milk, rancid meat, and socks that had been worn for 5 months straight and left out to air wash in front of a twenty year old air conditioner unit.

And it smelled like home.

Matt's apartment had practically been my second home since we started this short film project. It was a lengthy process, the whole development of a short film. I never anticipated how hard it would be, but Matt was a good partner.

We were a lot alike, him and I. It was a pleasure working with him and we had become such good friends since we started working on this little adventure.

I head to Matt's bedroom because, come on, where else would he be? I stop at the doorway and peek inside the room that must be the messiest of the house, if you could even differentiate between the rooms.

Matt rolled over in his bed and squinted his eyes open, trying to see who had arrived through the harsh light of the daytime streaming in through his windows. His messy curly brown hair stuck up every which way and he let out a quiet little yawn.

"Hey, babe," he greeted and smiled warmly as soon as he recognised my face. He had been calling me weird pet names since we got closer, but I took it as a sign of friendship. I ignored the nickname and smiled back, sitting down on the bed.

"You ready to start the day?" I asked encouragingly. He shook his head and rolled back over to hide his face in his pillow to shield himself from the brightness. I grabbed the pillow and yanked it out from under him.

"Wake up, Matt!" I yelled as I hit him with the old, worn out pillow Matt slept on every night.

"Wake up, Matt! Wake up, Matt! Wake up, Matt! Wake up, Matt! Wake up, Matt! Wake up, Matt! Wake up, Matt! Wake up, Matt! Wake up, Matt! Wake up, Matt! Wake up, Matt!"

I repeated, hitting him with the pillow each time I screamed his name. After about 20 repetitions, he started to giggle at me, but still refused to move. I walked closer to him and sat on top of his stomach, then facing the ceiling as he had decided to turn and lay on his back.

"I had to get up today, and that means you do too." Matt looked up at me and something in his playful expression changed. His smile turned into a look dead serious, his eyes seemed to change to a lighter shade of green and his pupils dilated intensely. The sudden change in personality seemed to be triggered by my new position of the seat I had made out of his stomach.

"And what if I don't?" he whispered defiantly, but playfully.

"I might just have to make you..." I trailed off and held my hand near my face to look at my fingernails with fake disinterest.

"Oh yeah?" he grabbed my t shirt and pulled me closer to him, rebellion still in his eyes. I nodded.

"I think I'll have to change that," he remarked suspiciously. Out of nowhere, I was being slammed onto the bed and my back hit the mattress and a firm, slightly cold hand pressed down on my chest, still clutching to my t shirt.

I opened my mouth in protest, but my lips were met by a long, skinny finger. It pressed into my lips and constricted any speech, so I stopped trying to talk. Once Matt noticed my struggling ceased, he moved his finger from my mouth and hesitantly brought it to the side of my face. He began to slowly stroke the hair framing my face that always stuck out a little bit. After petting my little baby hairs, he tucked them behind my ear.

All of his movements were slow, as if he was deciding carefully what moves he would make next. Also with a gentle touch. He was scared. He had been waiting for this moment. And his delayed movements suggest that he's savoring this moment. And that terrified me.

All of my thinking and analyzing his actions made me zone out, and now his head was moving closer and closer towards mine. His tight grip on me remained, now reinforced with his other hand. I knew I had no way out of this position. Matt might have been skinny, but he was strong. Like I-have-enough-points-on-my-gym-membership-card- to-buy-a-flatscreen-TV-and-a-Lamborghini-worth-more-than-your-life's-savings strong. 

His face somehow made it's way to the crook of my neck and I felt a soft suckle on the beginning of my jawline near my ear. I cringed at the close contact and my attempts to slink away from Matt were, of course, failed as he pushed harder on my torso, making my back dig further and further into the bed.

The whole situation had me speechless, but after about 20 seconds of torturous and misplaced affection, I finally found enough voice to yell out,

"STOP." My voice was firm, unbreaking and sure of what I wanted. Matt pulled his face away from my neck to look back at me.

"What's the matter, babe, am I being too gentle?" the look on his face was unlike one that I had ever seen on him. He had a look of pure lust. He knew what he wanted and was going to do whatever it took to get it.

"Matt, you need to-" I was cut off by the collision of Matt's head with mine. His lips smashed onto my own in a messy and needy way. I tried to stay completely still and not interact with Matt. Maybe if I expressed with body language that I didn't want this, he would understand.

I was mistaken.