playing with the air // m.h.

don't you want to take me up in the clouds // part one

            

d e s t r y // p o v

            "We wouldn't need clean up days if you picked up after yourself during the week," I protest.

"You of all people know that there's more to cleaning than just picking up," Asher cleverly retorted, "Can you gather all the sheets, then throw blankets, so I can get the laundry started?"

            I nod my response, obviously not going to win this argument. Asher kept us happy though, no matter how tiring these cleaning Mondays are. I had just cut back on my hours at the café as well, needing more time to focus on writing and myself within it. Plus with these budding friendships I didn't need the café as a getaway anymore, my time was filled up it seemed.

Ping.

I pat around my body, searching for my phone—obviously left in my short's pocket anyway.

george:           what's up, party princess?

I smile to myself, despite the joke getting old.

                        d:         Just being held captive by the Snow Queen :') wbu?

                        g:         sounds tragic. m and I just got to the new flat, signing shit.

                        d:         best of luck!

            Once I hit send I tucked my phone back into my pocket, resuming the task I had been given.

"Sheets," I announce after plopping down the basket on my right hip, followed by the one on my other, "Blankets." I smile at the simple job done.

"Awesome, thank you. Wait, did you get that dark green one we're always using?"

After a quick look within the basket, I realized I had not, "I think maybe I left it on the fire escape last." I rush to grab it, it was literally my favorite blanket, and I always cuddled with the warm post-dryer blankets—I dunno, Asher pours them on me and we just have a good time ok. Just as I expected, the blanket was left crumbled next to a book. Sighing in relief I go to yank it into my arms, accidently sending the book flying. Before I can even shout my profanity, I see a hand catch it mid air.

"Destry?"

My mind swarmed, cheeks probably turning bright red and my mouth gapped in an unflattering fashion as my eyes followed the hand to an arm and an arm to a face. Matty fucking Healy's—equally shocked—face.

earlier that day...

m a t t y // p o v

To say I was half awake was an understatement, despite this however I was forced into a car with George. I slouched into my seat more, yanking my leather jacket tighter around me. I had been up late last night, working with some ideas to present the boys the next night. We were set to start our next tour relatively soon, but George insisted that we needed to get the flat sorted out first. I was thankful to be leaving the crowded hotel room soon—most of our furniture we could get delivered today, after we signed on this place. I had really taken George's word for most of it. He assured me it was in a good area that we wouldn't worry about leaving it a lot, and the layout itself was pretty well suited for the both of us. He said the main downside was the buildings around it being of similar height, but we were looking at the top floor pent house. The retailor said it had private access to a patio on the roof, complete with a hot tub and barbeque. It all sounded so unreal. We were even excited for the things we weren't looking for; Jacuzzi bathtubs, sunken living room, exposed brick walls. I didn't even pay attention to where we were heading, my mind so fogged with these images.