D E S I D E R A T A [ g.d ] ON HOLD

16

No rants this time. I will keep those for when I am less tired and less sleepy..

Chapter sixteen :) But I am warning you, there are some mistakes.

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Matty's hair was flapping in the wind, his black curls clinging to his face as he leaned on the Wilford Suspension Bridge in Nottingham. The jacket that he was wearing was too thin for the temperature but he enjoyed the thrills whenever the cold air would reach his skin, making him shiver.

His best friend George was next to him, his parka jacket zipped up all to his neck and a snapback keeping his hair still. Two men were leaned on the railing, smoking and watching the River Trent moving in the beat of the wind – small waves creating on the surface ever so often.

"So, Nellie," Matty started, craning his body over the bridge. His cigarette rested between his lips and his hands gripping tightly at the iron rail.

George took a drag of his cigarette and turned around, his back leaning now on the rail. "Yes, what about her?"

Matty sighed not knowing how to start the conversation he had on his mind. Whatever he said, he knew that George won't listen because he was as stubborn as a goat. Nevertheless, he had to get over with it because he cared about his best mate and the last thing that he wanted was for George to get hurt.

"Don't fall in love with the night you two spent together and think that she is the one." Carefully, Matty looked at his best friend.

George face was like a stone, his lips pressed in a thin line. "Why are you telling me that?"

"She's no good for you, mate," Matty whispered, not being able to speak louder. The moment he said those words and watched how George's face changed, he regretted it.

George felt like someone smacked him in the face. He didn't want to hear it, especially not from his best mate. He expected Matty to be happy for him – couldn't he see how much Nellie made him smile?

The wind started to become harsher and George threw his half-finished cigarette on the ground before sticking his hands deep in the pocket of his jacket.

"Sod off," George muttered, not wanting to hear any of it. "I don't want to talk about it."

Matty copied George in his posture, crossing his arms on his chest, sticking his palms underneath his armpits, savouring the warmth. "Don't get offensive, mate." Matty breathed out, "I am sure you are aware of how her face looks like and I highly doubt she fell down the stairs." Matty was aware of his bluntness – it got him into problems way too many times. "And I am not trying to be rude here," he added, "but I think you won't be able to handle the damaged goods."

George pressed his jaw tighter. "You have no idea what are you talking about?"

"And you do?" Matty asked, looking at George, his voice still calm.

"What do you mean?" George asked, looking at the sky, clenching his fists in the pockets. He wasn't able to face Matty.

Matty's words were harsher than he wanted them to be when he blurted out, "That's what you've heard."

George pulled another cigarette from his pocket, putting it in between his lips. "We should go, mate." He said, pushing himself away from bridge rail and walking away.

Matty rolled with his eyes at his ignorant friend and followed him down the pavement. "Look George...," Matty said breathlessly, catching up with him. "I am just stating the obvious."

"I really don't want to hear it, Matthew!" George snapped, turning around and facing him. "You don't know her; you don't know the thing about her so stop judging me."

George maybe didn't know Nellie's favourite food or her favourite colour – he didn't even know when her birthday is, but to George those were trivial things. He didn't need to know her favourite song or her shoe size – he needed to know just what his intuition was telling him. He needed Nellie just as much as she needed him – to protect her, keep her safe, give her what she truly deserves.

Nellie wasn't just a moment – she was his safe haven.

"The fact that you are ignoring my question it's just making my assumptions true!" Matty replied, George's thoughts vanishing in a second.

"You are such a twat," George seethed through his teeth. He was already close to the boiling point but he was a firm believer that a raised voice is not a solution.

"Sorry, okay," Matty raised his hands next to his face, "I am sorry for being so negative about this," he paused, George still staring him down, "I just don't want you to get hurt."

Get hurt? Matty didn't had a clue.

"Mind your own business, Matthew." George snapped and continued to walk, not really in the mood for any of it. He wanted to get to the venue, get through the sound check, play a show, and then go back to London to see Nellie.

Matty froze, standing on the pavement and looking at George's back. He never knew this side of George – the angry one, the annoyed one and it was terrifying him. Naturally, they had argued before, usually about music, lyrics, or food they want to order on their day off but the way George spoke to him, just few minutes ago, made him speechless.

Matty ran a hand over his face, not sure what to say. His tongue was always faster than his brain but this time it was different.

"What do you mean?" Matty called out, realising that George was ahead of him again. Few pedestrians looked at him, but he just pushed his head down, stuck his mitten-clad hands in jacket pockets, and looked at his feet. "Since when do you refuse to even hear what I have to say?" Matty asked, catching up again. George was silent as they walked together to the venue to perform the sound check, completely ignoring the curly-haired guy. Matty didn't speak either, feeling the cloud of tension cover their friendship. "Ignoring me won't lead anywhere, George," Matty added not expecting for George to turn around and give him an annoyed and angry look. "Why do you refuse to hear me out?!"

"Because you have no right to tell me what's right or what's wrong for me. Especially when it comes to women," George finally yelled, not caring if anyone was around to listen as they stopped in front of the venue. The street was empty, the crew was already inside, and the only people mingling around were barkeepers getting ready for their night at work.

Matty's brow rose, his pulse quickened and this time it wasn't because of cocaine. "Come again?"

George pushed the backdoors, stepping inside the hallway – warmth and the smell of dust tickling his nose. "That's what I said, Healy. YOU from all the people have no right to tell ME about emotions. You fucked up all your past relationship, you sleep around with everyone who is remotely fascinated with your bullshit, you broke too many hearts..." George was stunned with the power of his voice but it seemed that he couldn't stop, "Sheila? Huh, do you remember her and what happened?" he added, watching Matty's face change colours.

"This isn't about me, George!" Matty hissed. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Ross walk out with phone in his hands, typing something. "That girl is no good for you. She will hurt you!"

Ross was now staring at them from the end of the corridor, motioning silently for Adam to come out of the backstage room. He pointed at the two guys, staring down at each other, looking like they are about to pounce at each other any moment. George glanced once at them but quickly looked back at Matty. His face was cold, teeth gritted and jaw clenched.

"Fuck you, Matty." George replied coldly and turned around, walking into Ross' and Adam's direction.

"Mate, what's happening?" Ross curiously asked as George passed next to them.

"Just leave me alone," George replied, not looking at him as he walked in the backstage, shutting the doors forcefully.