Intersect. [MH] (Editing in Process)

You Know Who The Fuck I Am Man, Who The Fuck Are You?

Archer.

"C'mon, love," Matty had driven us out in the middle of nowhere, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel the slightest bit uneasy. I trusted him as much as I could trust someone who wasn't my sister, that said a lot.

He'd parked the car in a field that I was certain we weren't allowed to be in, let alone park in. Currently, Matty was trying to convince me to exit his car, I refused, telling him; "You're about to drug me in the middle of nowhere, Matthew, I reckon today isn't the best day to face death, innit?"

I watched him as he turned around and started walking away from the car, furthering himself into the field with a blanket in his hand and a satchel strewn across his shoulder. "Where are you going?" I questioned, not wanting to be sat in a car, in a foreign field by my lonesome. "If you're not going to enjoy this lovely date I've gone out of my way to plan, then I'll bask in the morning glory alone," a smile made its way onto my face at the mention of a date.

"Date?"

"Yes, is there a problem?" I bit my lip, getting up from the passenger seat and following Matty. "If I'd known this was a date, I would've dressed up a little bit," he rolled his heart-melting hazel eyes -they were a shade of honey brown in the gleaming sun, the same tinge of sage in the exact same spot as when I'd first met him. "Archie, shut up talking, you are beautiful, don't pretend that you're unaware of it, makeup isn't a requirement on this date."

When I caught up to Matty, he draped his arm over my jumper-clad shoulder. This time, I had come prepared for a sleepover, however, I wasn't prepared whatsoever to be outside in the viciously nippy air. I'd been wearing a lot of Matty's clothing lately, he didn't really seem to mind at all, in fact he would continuously suggest clothing pieces to me and pretend to be upset when I just wore another one of his black t-shirts.

Today, I had given him the privilege of deciding on a pullover for me to wear over my sundress, and to say the least, he took every long-sleeved item of clothing he owned into consideration before deciding on what was probably the most hideous jumper I'd ever seen, though, it held an odd attraction.

It was a tightly knit mix between scarlet and crimson – the perfect middle ground. Embroidered flowers in the centre and on the mid-sleeves – deep royal blue, purples; periwinkle, heather, violet, surrounded by bunches of green in attempt to ressemble leaves.

Matty looked down at me, smiling before pressing a feather-light kiss against my forehead and unravelling himself from me. "Picnic time," he practically squealed in excitement, I had the feeling that he didn't really get the chance to enjoy this type of serenity often, if at all. He looked very joyous as he set down a rug-like blanket with help from the slight breeze.

As soon as we were both sat with the blanket beneath us, he opened his very interesting looking satchel and pulled out a few things: a little black faux-leather book, a larger notepad style sketchbook, one of those Crayola paint sets, – he looked at me sheepishly, simply stating that he couldn't find anything else – a brand-new carton of cigarettes, and of course, a fuck ton of spliffs stored in a previously empty carton.

"No food in there? Quite an odd date, wouldn't you reckon?" He chuckled, handing me a spliff – which he also took the liberty of lighting for me.

"It's in the car, love, don't worry."

Matty was such a pure soul, to me, at least. He was constantly in the public eye and was always expected to be some kind of posh role model, and when he wasn't -he was given hell for it. The media expects everyone to be the perfect version of the ideal human, but in reality, there isn't one perfect human being in the world.

They paraded around the social media world as if making a mistake was volatile and shunned you -for lack of a better word- when you didn't meet their standards.

There was a lot more to Matty than people recognized and latched onto, he was constantly portrayed as a drug addict who made half-assed attempts to seem intellectual on camera, and while he was a bit of a drug-addicted mess, he really did speak with such a vast vocabulary, he understood the words he was saying and spoke them confidently whether or not it was easily understood by anyone else.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked, genuinity in his voice as took the spliff from me and used his free hand to intertwine with my own. "How many different forms of one word there are in the Greek language, I swear on my life there are at least ten ways to address a group of people."

"Archie, what are you really thinking about?" I hated that question, it forced me to think of an answer, because half of the time, I didn't want anyone to know what was on my mind. I sighed, tilting my head so I was face to face with Matty, "To be completely honest, you."

"What about me?"

"The pressure of media, really, I've come to the realization that you don't have it as easy as you make it seem. I know there's a constant weight to be seen as something you're not, and I think, in my opinion, that makes you one of the most credible people in the public eye, the fact that you're not succumbing to their manipulative tendencies the way everyone else does."

Matty pulled me closer to him, my head resting on his shoulder, his head atop mine. "That's why we write about that shit, it's hard not to give in sometimes, and when we feel the need to, we channel those thoughts about how fucked up the world really is into our music."

"I think that may be why people love you so much, the words that come out of your mouth when you speak, especially about your music, are true and passion-filled. There are so many artists in the world that put out song after song with absolutely no meaning whatsoever, and then there's you lads, where people can feel the concept in your music." I felt him smile against the side of my head, he tightened his grip on me, letting his curly hair fall every which way.

I enjoyed his presence, the sound of his slow and steady breathing, how well put together he was for someone who was falling apart, if I believed in the existence of God and heaven, I wouldn't doubt for one second that this curly-haired, bright-eyed, level-headed, walking contradiction was truly a fallen angel in disguise.

**Short. I know don't kill me, but this is a double update so if you're actually enjoying my writing -you're very welcome.

Really I just wanted to write this bit to further their relationship and write a little about what I've been thinking lately and the pressures of the public eye. Obviously I wouldn't know what it's like to be in it but I can only imagine how people would feel with that constant pressure to fake it til you make it and continue faking it until you die.

Thank you so much for reading, please make sure to vote and comment, new update very very soon!!
-Ven

Songs I suggest listening to:
- Love Me//The 1975
- Loving Someone//The 1975
- The Future//Neil Hilborn (Spoken word poetry)
- Narrow//Mayday Parade
- She//Ed Sheeran
- Screen//Twenty One Pilots
- Something//Gnash