BAIRN: Matty Healy

101317

October 13th, 2017

Sun kissed oak hair curled gently against her glossy forehead and around her tiny ears under the warm light of my mums fireplace. Maisie was completely tuckered out from her day at the park with Denise, and she was now half asleep, clammy in Matty's lap, leaning carelessly on his inked forearm.
Her eyelashes fluttered every few minutes to remind herself of her surroundings, and Matty would stroke her chubby little arm, lulling her back to sleep each time. I liked this; how simple he made it look, when Maisie really had a tough time getting to sleep. It was heartening, looking at them and knowing the extent of her trust towards Matty, despite him being gone for nearly half a year.

"I can put her down for a nap, if you'd like," I offered quietly, leaning forwards on the thick cotton love-seat. He shook his head and smiled,
"S'alright Mace. I wanna spend a little more time with her, if you don't mind."

I nodded. I understood why, as Matty had mentioned it several times to me in the past—throughout my pregnancy, and continually afterwards—that he was afraid of failing, as a father. We shared this self-doubt silently from point A to point B. The two of us were equally as scared of not being the parents we needed to be for Maisie.
He and I weren't in a relationship, but we had a relationship still. One that required tiptoed conversations and careful consideration.

Oftentimes, I found myself doubting Matty's return to Wilmslow from tour; he was gone a lot, and besides, he had a bird of his own to return to. He never did like Manchester—it was where he grew up, and where his home, and family were. But it wasn't home to him. It was too quiet, he hated the familiarity of the city, he made that obvious—Matty craved the change of scenery, and the excitement recreational drugs offered him.

I, however, wanted out of the suburbs I'd lived in my entire life, but I wanted to settle somewhere, eventually. Matty was the kind of soul that, keeping up with is nearly impossible. He and his girlfriend, Gabriella, were not, by any means, perfect for one another, but they were pretty fucking close. Couldn't really say, I hadn't met her, but she had to give him something to keep him around.
He'd asked me four times before he left, if I'd follow him to Los Angeles, or at least London, but I, being the selfless individual I was six months ago, addressed the inquiry with another question: "How fucking stupid do I look?" There was no way in hell I'd let Hades get caught up in that lifestyle. I knew Matty—likely better than he knew himself—and my irrational fear of Gabriella replacing me in my own daughter's life tore me apart more often than not when contemplating his proposition to simplify his own life.

"Mace, Matty? Food's ready!" I looked up to meet George's hooded eyes, he was peeking into the the room. I raised my index finger to my lips and pointed to Maisie, but behind my disinterested façade, I was beaming to see Georgie. He nodded and tiptoed into the room (he looked ridiculous) behind Matty, resting his large hand on his shoulder and peering over him to look at the tot.
"Hi Georgie," I whispered excitedly, "how's Cath?" He grinned, "She's alright, back in LA with Gabby."

Catherine was George's girlfriend of three years, and when he brought her home, I was more than ecstatic to have another woman my age to hang around with. We got on rather well, I'd say. I was a bit disappointed that he hadn't brought her 'round a second time, but it was understandable, she was native to Las Vegas, and LA was much closer to home than Manchester for her.
I nodded, he could probably tell I was a bit upset about it because he made a point to say "I'm bringing her home for Christmas."

"Safe," I turned to glance through the doorway, I could clearly see my mum discussing something with Denise, red wine gleaming in their hands as they set the table. "We should probably get in there before Reyna gets shit-faced," I muttered, biting my lip anxiously.
Alcohol was not my mum's best friend, despite her thinking it was a better child to her than I was.

George shot me a look, "I'll sort it. Don't you worry your pretty little mind." He was sympathizing—he did this a lot when it came to Reyna. I shrugged and watched him exit the lounge, "Help me get her settled?" Matty tore my attention from the giant in my hallway and tilted his head towards the staircase.
Humming in response, I stood to my feet, observing quietly as he rocked Maisie back and forth in his arms, as he approached the landing. "She missed you," I told him, trailing slowly behind him. A snarky chuckle fell from his parted lips and he pushed my old bedroom door open, nestling her between two pillows and the comforter.

"And you didn't?"
"Matty–"
"That's not an answer, is it? Did you miss me, Mace? Or not?"
I sighed and watched my fuzzy sock clad feet pad against the carpet as I tugged him out of the room. Trying profusely to avoid the question, I turned for the stairs, but mid-step—as expected—Matty firmly gripped my arm and twirled me back around to face him.

"C'mon, love." He huffed, pressing me against the wall and resting his forehead on mine. "Answer me?"
I swallowed, now fully aware of my own saliva retreating leisurely down my throat, "You c-can't do th-that Matty. It isn't fair," I managed. His dark eyes softened and searched my own, I looked away as soon as I realized what he was doing.
"Yes."
"Yes?"
"I missed you, now shut the fuck up before I cry."
"Cry?"
"Yeah, fuck, are you just going to keep repeating me?"
Matty shifted backwards and lifted his index finger beneath my chin, "Why would you cry? Because of me?" I nodded hesitantly, avoiding his gaze and starting for the staircase again.

"Mesa," he whispered, he kept his hands at his side this time, "I love you."

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