playing with the air // m.h.

treat me like an old friend

**i have a playlist for this story if anyones interested let me know, it's just something i listen to while writing it and it influences it a lot**

m a t t y // p o v

I found myself stumbling off the couch towards the kitchen after Adam's intrusion of a 'reading light' startled me. After I left Des, I stripped down to my pants in a very half-awake fashion and flopped onto the loveseat, since George's long body was already taking up the couch. Once conscious, I realized that the living room looked different; the empty armchair now had Adam perched in it, those damned blinds were pulled back, and George was no longer in the room. Eventually my zombie stumble took me to the kitchen, where I finally become coherent.

"Morning," my voice creaks out, directed towards the only other person in the room.

"You seem to be handling your hangover quite well," I hear him reply, probably looking up from his book in a snide fashion. My hands continued scrambling for a mug and kettle.

"Honestly, I'm astonished they don't have more tea options, we are in bloody fucking London," I say in a surely pretentious manner, waiting a moment for Hann's reply. When an unusually long moment passes I go to look around the wall at him, only to be greeted with a much more embarrassed face. Des and Hann were locked in a horrified stare down, and just when she turns to, I assume, look at me, she makes a 180 and start darting out the hotel door.

I still opened my mouth as if I'd actually get time to even mumble something to her, but she was already gone. Leaving me only to stare back at the last person in the room. "Hann what the fuck was that?"

"What was I meant to say? She wasn't looking to stay regardless," He shoots back with sass before returning to his book in a finalizing manner.

"What makes you think that?" I throw my arms about in an exaggerated fashion, somehow I manage to think Hann was responsible for her speedy exit.

"She had her shoes on," He replies in a matter-of-fact manner, not even bothering to look up now.

All I could mutter was a defeated oh. I don't get it, why does she seem so wishy-washy. It's as if the second you get too close or even remotely in her personal zone, she deserts. I wish I could let it go, I'm always so compulsive. If I could just get a full conversation with her I'm sure I could sort this out. My eyes go to my cell phone, still plugged into its charger. No, I won't be able to gauge anything over the phone.

"What's with the atmosphere?" My attention is alerted to the bedroom doorway, where George stood, shaking out his hair and a white fluffy towel hung low on his hips.

"Matty's blaming me for his repressed fears," Adam's cold voice responds, causing my ears to heat up from a mixture of embarrassment and annoyingness.

"Lovely," George seems entirely unfazed as he wanders into the kitchen with me, picking up a mug of his own. I let out a deep sigh, suddenly craving a cigarette.

It stays quiet for a few more minutes until Ross walks in, giving everyone their own quizzical glances.

"Its much too early to chase after her, please," he sleepily grumbles as he stretches his back.

"Who said anyone was chasing after anyone?" my voice snaps.

"Was just becoming our routine it seemed," he let out a loud groan as he reached the peak of his stretch, "She's at the venue though."