opia; matty healy.

7%

I'm the last to arrive at Matty's. Everyone else is already there, sprawled out on the couches waiting impatiently on pizza while scrolling through the Netflix library for a film to watch. I'm sat beside George on the couch, Chelsea to his left and Matty on the other end. Erica, Adam and Ross are spread out on the floor.

"Weren't we going to watch Spiderman?" Matty mumbles and George sits up to tuck his feet underneath him.

"Yeah," He agrees with a small smile on his lips, "we were."

Since I finished speaking to Miss. Sommers, Matty went back into his quiet state. I'm not sure whether I caused this, or whether there are external factors making Matty retreat into his own mind, but I can feel it affecting me. The past three days have had me accustomed to his outgoing and slightly offensive personality that the silence is almost draining. I find myself matching his quiet personality.

"Someone has to go pick up the pizza," Erica reminds us.

At this moment Matty stands and offers to go.

"Take Isabel with you," George says, "You're both being quiet and weird."

Chelsea nudges him, "Don't be rude! She doesn't have to feel like she always needs to talk to us."

"That's not what I meant-"

Matty is already making his way towards the door and I stand, not wanting to listen to George and Chelsea argue – even if it is friendly – over me. I'd prefer to be in Matty's quiet company than be around a group of people who won't stop talking right now. We walk silently through the streets until we make it to the main road. I'm about to head inside the shop until Matty's arm pulls me back.

"I need a smoke," He mumbles.

It surprises me at first that Matty smokes at all, but then I begin to piece everything together: his attitude, the way he dresses – and of course he smokes. I should have assumed so from the moment I met him, and even though I'm repulsed by what may be a habit, I still enjoy Matty's company when the toxic smoke reaches my lungs. I hold back a cough.

"I'm sorry," He says, breathing out the smoke as he speaks.

"I don't mi-"

"No," He shakes his head, "I mean for being a dick all day, and being quiet. I haven't really been treating you like a best friend."

I laugh, "You barely know me."

"You keep saying that."

"Because it's true."

"I'll never know you if you don't tell me about yourself." He lifts the cigarette back to his lips.

"For a first, I really hate cigarettes."

"Oh," He frowns and waits a few seconds before dropping the stick to the ground and stepping on it, "Better?"

I nod, "But you didn't have to."

"You hate cigarettes. What sort of best friend would I be if I smoked around you?"

"Not a very good one?" I suggest, "But I really didn't mind."

"It's okay," He smiles, "I got what I needed from it. The rest was just for the pleasure."

I wonder what he means by this as he grabs my hand and pulls me into the shop. It's small and noisy inside, I can hear the workers up the back shouting at each other so fast it barely sounds like English as it leaves their mouths. A small boy sits on the seats to the left beside his mum, whose attention is focused entirely on her phone. My frown disappears from my face when the pressure on my hand disappears. I catch Matty's hand leaving my own, only now realising it was ever there in the first place.