BAIRN: Matty Healy

Do you feel alright?

Y'all ain't voting for my shit, y'all ain't getting new shit

  "Mace," I scrunched my eyes shut and rolled over face first into my terribly uncomfortable pillow. Considering I'd spent £40 on a damn pillow, I expected miracle sleep and no less than that. "Mace, are you awake?" Clearly I was not getting that tonight, "no. What do you want?" I grumbled, lifting the blanket for Matty to crawl into bed—you see, I'd asked what he wanted but it was always the same thing at this time of night, he didn't like to be alone, and I didn't blame him.

  He crawled under the covers and curled up next to me, his skin was glistening even in the dark and I wondered if Matty was just lonely or if he really couldn't get to sleep on his own. "Sorry I'm invading your personal space so much, I'll go home tomorrow if you like, I wouldn't want me around so much either," he whispered through a bitter chuckle.

  I was dumbfounded, unsure of where he'd gotten that idea from, because maybe I'd been too hard on him, maybe London was the right call and he needed us around as much as we needed him. But maybe he was guilt-tripping me. I was used to it and so was he, so maybe things were changing this time around, Matty was honest and vulnerable and all splayed out beside me in my bed. It seemed to hit me all at once, in the comfort of my own safety net, the one place I could fall back to if everything went wrong, that Matty hadn't been here before now and he'd been opening up to me from the moment he stepped foot into my flat. I pulled him tightly against me and whispered back to him, "I never want you to feel like you're not welcome in my home. Got that?"

  Matty nodded slowly, unknowingly weaselling strands of his hair in my mouth in the process, "Can we watch 'Gilmore Girls?'" I readjusted my head the slightest bit to grab the remote and pressed a hopefully welcome kiss to his curls, "Bless you, of course we can. The revival shit on Netflix had me bawling my eyes out but now they're talking about doing a sequel? What's that about—like, will it ever end? Who knows," I shrugged, realizing I hadn't let Matty get a word in and I was practically having a conversation with myself at this point.

  "Well? Are you going to put it on or shall I?" Matty laughed, already swiping the remote from my hand. I watched him flick through channels until he landed on Netflix, expertly navigating his way to the first episode of 'Gilmore Girls' and clicking 'play from beginning.'

  "I'll take that," I hummed just as the intro flashed across the screen. "If you're out on the road," Matty sung handing it back to me, "feelin' lonely and so cold," I joined in and set the remote down beside me.

  "All you have to do is call my name and I'll be there, on the next train!" I laughed, mostly at the realization that this song fit our relationship quite perfectly, and partly because Matty always had to find a way to be extra with hand movements and head tilts. He looked at me and smiled before bursting into song at the chorus, "Where you lead—" "I will follow," I nodded at him, "Anywhere–anywhere–that you tell me to!"

  "I think we should probably quit singing before Maisie hears us and decides she wants in on our fun," I whispered, softly nudging his side. He nodded, puttering with an arm around me and a hand covered by my hair, Matty turned his attention back to the television. A grin tugged at the corners of my lips as I watched him squint at the screen, and it was never really because he couldn't see, but him taking into account the characters and surroundings, even though I knew he'd rewatched the series more than once because I was with him. But I suppose Matty always liked to focus on irrelevant details, he'd said "one day the little things will matter more than we all think and then we'll see who's laughing."

  He yawned, well that was incredibly adorable and I no longer know what to do with myself without squeaking out a string of incoherent profanities.

  "Stop staring at me," Matty huffed, covering my face with his hand. I licked his palm as a safer alternative to full on biting him and he just stared at me wide eyed like a madman ready to pounce, "I'm not, I'm just thinking."

  "Think with your eyes closed, you cunt."

  I shimmied up the bed a bit and nestled up against his side, stretching my arm across Matty's midriff, "Wait, you're not actually going to sleep, are you?" "Matty, I was already asleep before you got here," I muttered, tilting my head to get a better look at his face. "D'you feel alright?" He pulled me closer, "Yeah I just–I guess–I haven't been sleeping too well if I'm honest. I'm–uh, you know there aren't enough cigarettes in the world..." My eyebrows knit together, "Here," I rustled through my nightstand drawer in the dark and handed Matty a half empty packet of smokes and a lighter, "let's have one then and tell me about it."

  "I didn't know you still smoked," he lit one up. "Surprise!" I laughed, watching him inhale the toxins with ease, "I don't smoke all the time, can't really afford to, can I? But if you still have any of those cloves left, I'll gladly take one off your hands. Must be a burden," Matty shook his head in a sigh and handed me the burning cigarette, "I have a whole pack with your name on it."

  "Oh brilliant, after years of you stealing my plain old smokes, I'm finally being repaid with an overpriced box of cancer. Now, tell me about your thing while I grab an ashtray as well." I smiled at him and searched through to drawer once again, landing on my favourite little porcelain ashtray. The dark never did much good as far as not dropping things went, so I hoped the early morning wouldn't go to shit over a broken ashtray, mostly because I adored the cute little flower detailing and the fine line of silver along the inner rim.

  I looked at Matty and settled back down, "So what's up?" I breathed out onto his cotton t-shirt, rubbing circles over his stomach. He didn't say much, kind of just stared at the ceiling for a while, smoking his cigarette, until he spoke, "I want to get high." He laughed. "And god, the feeling never goes away Mace. It's like... someone's nagging me to- to get something done but it's in my head and it doesn't end."

  "I don't want to be like that anymore, for myself, for-for you and Maisie and Gabby.. and fucking George. I have a fucking kid for Christ's sake, I need to fucking start acting like it, you know?" "Yeah," I switched from circles on his stomach to messy little squares and sighed, "I know Matty."

  "You're doing so good now though," I told him, grinning, honest. "With us and Louis... and George."

  Matty dipped his head and stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray.

  "I thought maybe coming home would help a bit. And it has, don't get me wrong, it's just... there's London and LA and tours and parties, and I need to be away for a while. But I don't want to be away without you or Maisie. This, parenting, finally acting like a dad, it's made me better I feel and I want to keep that, I want to stay better."

"Let me help you."

"Well I don't think you really c—"

"I'll come to London."

He stared down at me, skeptically, a little angrily. "Don't do that, Mesa. You.. you can't just say that like it means anything leaving your mouth." I shook my head and crawled over him so we were face to face and I was looking him dead in the eye, "I mean it... you know I do, trike. You know me, and if I'd ever lied to you, I'd let you doubt me. But I haven't, and I don't plan on it."

"Don't you believe me?" I was whispering in his ear now and hoping to god my promises weren't for nothing just because he didn't buy it.

Matty nodded his head slowly and dragged me back down to his side. "We talked through the entire episode," he whined.