Intersect. [MH] (Editing in Process)

I'm Cool To The Touch, Leap To My Death.

SOTC: call the police - LCD Soundsystem
CW: Mention of drug use + description of overdose.
Archer.

  You know the saying "be still, my heart?" If you don't, the events of my life are a perfect example of the prose, so the vague description of the phrase I'm about to throw out into the wind is personally deemed unnecessary. Usually, the saying is used to express love or shock – in any way, shape, or form. Realistically, in my particular situation, it wasn't theoretically justified, it was pure literal physicality.

  I was tied into myself and everyone around me, something I never wanted to understand the meaning of in fear of inflicting unintentional harm on people that loved me. I, myself, was painfully aware of the situation I'd continually put myself in, the point in time was always hanging around and the weight of it was inevitable. My body couldn't withstand anymore physical strain and the only remedy to my madness was to further my downwards spiral until I felt I couldn't come back from it.

  Today was that day – not purposeful, of course, but this was the day I'd find myself tubed up in a hospital, fighting for the life I was hardly living – yet again.

  "Archer, love, wake up, it's half three in the afternoon. I don't want you spending your whole trip in bed."

  I was wide awake, seeing everything in full colour with my eyebrows furrowed and casting a barrier between my pupils and the obnoxious light overhead. I could hear Matty's voice and understand what he was saying to a certain extent, I could feel the warmth of his hand on my cheek, and I could smell something burning. Maybe George had tried cooking again or Matty had gotten distracted by his favourite book; the one I'd seen him read over again so many times. What was it called?

  "Hey," he nudged my shoulder lightly, making sure not to startle me, "can you get up? George and I are running a bit late for a shoot and I needed to ask you if you could lock the door behind us."

  And I wanted to push myself out of bed like I'd done last night, for the first time in my life, I wanted to wake up. All I could think of was how unfair this was, to happen now, now that I felt okay and moderately happy with the state my life was in. Now that Matty had a responsibility to tend to, I was getting in the way.

I loved him and he loved me, and this was the opposite of ethical. If the universe followed the unspoken rules of ethics, none of this would be happening. I'd be out of bed and wrapped in his arms, leaving kisses all over his pale pink lips that I loved so much. A hint of realization flashed across his face – then concern, confusion, fear. He was afraid and I knew that even now, in this situation, he wouldn't admit defeat.

  I willed my arm slowly to Matty's cowering body, he was stood beside the bed with his phone in hand, frantically dialling the only number I could think of. His unsuspecting wide eyes darted to me, he knew something was wrong just as well as I did. Gently, and I mean ever-so-delicately, Matty took my hovering hand in his own and stroked it. That felt nice, like he was coaxing me to sleep, I was really tired. Remembering what time I'd gone to sleep was extremely difficult and it hurt trying to provoke the thought, all I knew was that Matty was here and I wanted to go back to sleep.

"George! Please h-help, she won't- she can't get up!" Tears. He was crying against the fabric of my jumper; I didn't remember putting it on or feeling the cold at all.

All I could do was look at him through squinted eyes, I should've known something was wrong as soon as the tunnel vision kicked in when I scaled the stairs to confront him. I could've done something to stop this from happening, I didn't want Matty to cry over me, he had too much going on already with the tour and his music, and his dog –

I couldn't recall ever meeting him, had I? What did he look like? What was his name? I vaguely remembered speaking about him with Matty, he was so happy explaining his name in the car.

"George! Hurry the fuck up, I've called the ambulance and I don't know what else to do! She told me about this, I should've been prepared I-I should've known this would happen. She was okay, she..."

  He hung his head low and it was at this moment that I sent myself into panic. I couldn't see his face, I couldn't remember the colour of his eyes or the sound of his voice – I needed him to look at me.

Look at me.

I managed to squeeze his hand and suddenly, without any warning, a deep lull of pain sparked in my chest with full force, causing me to jerk forward. He looked back up at me, trying to roll me onto my side. For some reason, the contact sent a sensation of warmth throughout my body, this boy was comfortable. I wanted to thank him but I couldn't put a name to his face.

Rushed footsteps fell into the room and I averted my gaze from the boy knelt in front of me to the bedroom door behind him. A tall lad stood unsure in the doorway, he was looking at me. The curly haired boy turned to look at him as well,

"George, she was fine last night, wasn't she? I-I don't know what to do, she s-showed up sober and I t-thought things would be alright. I'm such a fucking idiot. It's my fault."

He approached the two of us and sat on the corner of the bed, grabbing hold of the lads tear-stained face; I felt guilty just lying there helpless, I couldn't do anything but feel everything. Every pang of force in my chest, every tear falling on my embraced hand, every vibration from the sobbing boy on his knees. I loved him, didn't I? He loved me, it seemed.

"Matty, this isn't your fault. If anything, it's mine for letting her use whatever she wanted," he cradled him in his arms and I watched the tears stain George's shirt, "everything is going to be just fine. Breathe."

His name was Matty. Matty. Matty... Who was he? How did he know who I was and why couldn't I keep his name in my head. I opened my mouth to speak, agonizingly painful burning filled it with every breath. My heart was beating out of my chest and all I could think was that I wasn't ready to die yet, not like this, not without saying goodbye. I forced a cough and watched the two turn to me,

"Matty." I whispered uneasily, "call my sister... please." He nodded frantically and dialled what I assumed was her phone number – she was the only person who'd dealt with me like this prior to today.

Bits of their conversation were decipherable from the hallway, in which he'd stepped out to as soon as he pressed the phone to his cheek.

George looked down at me with remorse, as if he'd done this to me. This was only my fault; I couldn't blame my mistakes and misfortunes on those around me. I willingly put myself in this position – I wasn't forced into it. Another horribly painful force in my chest shoved me forwards and George instinctively wrapped an arm across my back,

"You're alright, Archie, just a few more minutes and you'll be on the way to hospital. Hang in there, for Matty, for me. I'm not really good at this mushy stuff but... we need you, Archer. Please stick around."

  I shut my eyes tightly, leaned into him and let quiet sobs escape my parted lips:

  "It h-hurts, George. I n-need to go now." I croaked, forcing each syllable out of my mouth. I kept my eyes shut, hoping that when I inevitably opened them, things would be just fine.

•

Just decided to update once more tonight!! Since I've written the end already, I'm a bit bored. Love you lot <3