Omg! A Matty Healy Fanfic

// C H A P T E R N I N E T E E N //

With only the company of my dad and I for the past few weeks was just fine with me. Unlike I predicted, I didn't see an over excessive amount of Grace during those weeks either. I spent a lot of time drawing, and a lot of time thinking, and even more time crying.

I didn't know what it was about Matty that just made me feel so hurt. What was it about this person who I'd only known for such a short span of time. Why couldn't I stop thinking about him? Why couldn't I find a single detail on this man that I didn't like...both appearance wise, and personality wise. Okay well maybe there's something I could say I didn't like...the way he laughed at serious moments...other people's serious moments at least.

Or the way he carrys around a cancer stick, or a dozen...and smokes half of them in the course of the day. Maybe more than that if I'd been around to see him doing it.

He figured me out, faster than anyone I have ever met, and sadly faster than anyone else I think I'll ever meet...besides Elaine...but I stopped seeing her... Maybe Matty was right that maybe we were meant to know each other due to meeting one another in psychology...some days, if I were depressed enough, I'd think that I finally realized it. Other days when I'm pissed, I don't.

He called me everyday, sometimes twice a day...but, he recently gave up...not one call, not one text. I knew it had to happen sometime soon...but when it did, even that hurt as much as it did to ignore every call---

"Welcome, class. My name is Mr. William and I will be your instructor this semester,"

I shut my journal as the voice of a man reign through the large room. I looked up where it came from, he was tall and middle-aged, with a very joyous grin. He looked quite interesting.

"Tell me, do any of you have any prior experience in the art of figure drawing?" He stepped up to the figure model's stage and took a seat on a brown wooden chair, nicely padded with a red pillow which gave me this olden day King's chair type of vibe...

I slowly stuck my journal into my backpack, then looked around to see if anyone could possibly be more advanced than I. No one lifted a finger. I didn't know if he'd ask me a really hard question about it if I'd raise my hand, so I kept it down. It was for my own good.

"No one? Well, today we will be jumping straight into it, to test the waters a bit. Now you're all artists," He said, "if not, you're in the wrong room and probably wrong school too..." everyone laughed. I smiled, it wasn't funny to me, but it was a cool thing to say I guess. I always wondered why people felt the need to make such a fuss when people said the lamest jokes. Not that the instructor's joke was lame or anything...

"Our model will be out in just one minute." He assured us. I noticed the clip to my drawer's board was hanging. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed it. I didn't buy a brand new one, like the ones everyone around me appeared to have. They were shiny and clean, no scratches, dints, stickers, or charcoal in sight.

Mine was an old one from home, I didn't see the need to buy a new one if I was happy with what I had. As I fixed it with a hurry I could hear the model's footsteps from the stage and women behind me whispering. I quickly finished tussling with the clip and looked up.

He was a pretty handsome guy, forgetting that the students around me all looked much older than I, he looked a bit too old for my liking...just with that thought, the door opened and in came a young girl with a loud pink bob hairstyle. A hoop stuck out of her nose, and her floral Doc Marten boots squeaked with every step. I quickly looked back at the model as she came closer.

She dropped her bag on the floor and swung her large carrier over her head, "sorry I'm late--" her voice echoed across the room to the Mr. William held his finger up to his lips to quiet her. She nodded, quickly, then struggled with the zipper to release her clipboard. All of her charcoal came falling out and snapping in two all over the floor, and a few beside me. I didn't want to help her, knowing that we were being timed...but with my instincts I turned around to pick up the broken sticks next to my shoe.