BAIRN: Matty Healy

102017

October 20th, 2017

Matty shut the bedroom light off and began his slow stride towards the mess of duvets atop my age-old mattress. He always shut the light off when he came 'round, and usually, being in the dark bothered me, but his presence counteracted that.

I watched his silhouette carefully step over David, a familiar face I hadn't seen in a few days, but left food out for every morning, regardless.
She never did like Matty—nothing but whining "meow"'s and whispered hisses when he stepped inside the flat. This was probably because he named her David when I'd first gotten her, and it fit her quite nicely. Secretly, though, I was sure she despised it. Matty didn't mind the passive aggressive attacks, though, he fancied dogs far more, anyways. They would just casually avoid each other. It was entertaining, really, but something inside me wished that David liked him as much as Maisie and I did.

The edge of the bed dipped, and a warm light flicked on, illuminating Matty's pale complexion, then off. I shook my head and pointed to the window in the faint glow of the bright red cherry and he nodded quickly,
"Not while Maisie's in."
     "Sit with me?"
     "Oh... yeah, alright.."
     "You don't have to."

     I shook my head, but the light was out, and he couldn't see my gesture through the dark, at least, not very well. I was sure, though, that Matty could see me crawling across the sheets towards him, because he hummed quietly and reached his hand out for support as soon as my bare feet met the cold hardwood.
     Leaning into, and pushing off of him, I lifted myself onto the windowsill and pushed the creaky window open, nicotine mixed with his shallow breaths steadily escaping into the autumn night—morning—sky. Just gone two and we were wide awake.
Okay, moderately. Moderately awake.

—

If we were linear, we'd be perpendicular. Two lines that intersect and form right angles; Hades was our right angle—if angle was more often than not confused with angel and right loosely translated to perfect.
These things were, and Maisie was our perfect angel.

Matty was sat, frustrated and tired beside me, from the lack of sleep we'd both gotten, sipping on cold coffee I'd made hours ago.
We were parallel. And sometimes, I wished we'd stay that way: always side by side, in close proximity to each other, but never gaining meaningful contact.

"Are you really moving to London or- thinking about it? That's what I came to figure- talk to you about... last night, but we both just wound up crashing after you put Maisie down." Matty stated the obvious as if he didn't quite believe it, so he had to vocalize in order to make sense of the predicament. I shrugged my shoulders and bit the inside of my cheek, raking my mind for a suitable response to the inquiry I'd been pressed with.
"Not sure, really." I sighed.
"I only said that to shut mum up, but I might actually consider it. I've got a couple of mates in London, but... they probably don't remember me and they might not want to see me, let alone open their homes to me for who knows how long."

He looked at me pensively, shutting his eyes for a moment, presumably to gather his thoughts before parting his lips hesitantly. As if he could say something that pissed me off,

"Mace. You've got four mates who happen to live in London, who also don't mind your company in the slightest. The lads love having you 'round, so do I. I get it, though, if you don't want to or- you don't feel comfortable shacking up with us for a bit." He paused, pulling his bottom lip between his pearly teeth—crooked, but so were mine. I wondered what I'd think of him if they were perfectly straight, if his voice would project differently.
"W-what about Gracie and–"
"My dad?" He nodded,
"I dunno. I don't want to put anything in your head that you can't shake, but it might be worth sitting on."

I hadn't seen or spoken to him since the evening of my twentieth birthday. Similar to Reyna, Nate had always adored Matty, despite his dabbling in hard drugs and constantly smelling of tobacco.
Even my father was charmed by his casual discussions and smooth segways into as many topics he could hit in one sitting. Matty spoke like a short story; cliffhangers, dramatic irony, the lot. Clear-framed glasses perched against the bridge of his nose, often complimented by a thinly crafted wine glass in hand each time. Comical, really.
He'd known my father, and my father had known him his entire life. Still, he thrived to impress him in whichever aspects he could, and Matty was skilled in many things.

"It's just- I don't want to impose, y'know? I'm living by myself now and I'm doing alright, I can't just shove myself between other people's lives and expect good things to come. I'm a bit... apprehensive, I suppose. Could be good for Maisie, but not for me. What if something happens?" I wanted to ask "what if you forget about me?" More so as a possibility than a question, but that hardly seemed appropriate.

     "Mesa," Matty shifted in his chair to face me, searching my eyes like he was looking for a glowing exit sign, hesitation visible in his own.
"I will never leave you behind. Ever. You're my best fucking mate. That's how it's always been, and that's how it'll always be. Cross my heart," he leaned further towards my shoulder, I could feel his breath on my neck. He twirled me around; our knees were touching, and while I was silently obsessing over the ounce of contact, Matty was blissfully oblivious.

     "You know that, don't you?"
     I shrugged. The truth was, I didn't know at all. I had no idea where I stood when it came to Matty, his life.
     I. Didn't. Know.

"I love you, and I love Maisie but..." Here it was, "she's only one reason Mace, one. And I have three for wanting you in London with me, you factor in each one. You're reason enough. Do you honestly think I'd be here if it weren't for you? You know how I feel about coming home- flying home. You know how I feel about you."
He sighed, tugging on my jumper to catch my gaze when he realized I'd been staring down at my hands the entire time. I wedged my palms beneath my thighs and made the brave decision to look up at him,

"I can't read you like I used to and..I'm- I'm trying to understand again, Mesa." Matty gently brushed away a strand of hair that hovered in my peripheral, "But I need you to help me. I-I need some clarification that I'm doing alright—that I can fix things or...that I'm heading in the right direction. Please talk to me."
I shouldn't have looked up at him.
I shouldn't have let him sleep in my flat, in my bed. We were already too involved with each other and he hadn't even been in town a week.

"Okay," I let out a muffled breath, "I'll talk."

-

It's getting so difficult to keep the chapter titles as dates because they often venture into each other, so I might alter that soon. Also, I hope you aren't bored of all this talking between them because they're just catching up and trying to figure things out for themselves. Things will happen soon, I'm just character building as of right now AND there will be more flashbacks soon (those are my favourite).

Don't forget to vote and comment!

All the love,

Ven.