Urgency. | Matthew Healy

c/five. talk!

"I am so, so sorry." Matty apologizes, suddenly sobering up when he realizes what he's done.

I take a deep breath, knowing that Matty isn't in his normal state and this isn't something he could've controlled. But still, I am covered in vomit.

"Matty, it's fine, just-, let's get you to bed." I help him, with my arm that isn't covered in vomit, and he lays down.

He looks at me, guilt displayed on his face. "Val, I have no words to explain how sorry I am." He tries to get up but fails, dizziness surrounding him.

I groan. "Just forget about it, you couldn't stop it. It's not like you did it on purpose. I'll just go take a shower." I stare at my vomit-covered arm and hold my breath to avoid my own puke from coming out.

Matty blurted out another apology which I failed to hear because I had rushed into the bus' shower. I took a long shower in which I used up all my body wash and still felt like there was vomit underneath my pores.

I stepped out of the shower, taking a towel and drying my body before using it to wrap around my hair.

I take a look at the clock that hangs atop the bathroom mirror. 4:38 A.M.

I sigh. There is no way I'm gonna be able to go to sleep.

I put on some clean underwear, along with some pajama shorts that match the pastel blue t-shirt I paired them with. I put on a pair of flip-flops I had bought back home in Oxford and combed my hair down after having removed the towel. I quickly moisturized, in hopes that when I washed my face later my pores would be clean of vomit residue.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, Matty stood in front of the door, as if he was waiting for me to come out for a long time. I stare at him, my eyes showing pity and also disgust at some level. He had been doing so good, staying away from all this crap, and then he had to go ahead and do it again. Not only do it again, but puke on me after doing it. Nope, I'm never going to forget it.

He frowns. "I know what you're thinking and you're right." He runs a hand through his hair. He was more sober now, and somehow he managed to get himself a glass of water.

I stare at him, crossing my arms. "What I'm thinking about what? About your vomit or your drunken, drugged, sex addict state? I mean, I've seen it all before, you just didn't need to bring it towards me, like, literally bring it." I stare at him up and down, anger cursing through me every time my eyes get across the lipstick stains on him.

"She had to wear red lipstick." I mutter, bitterly.

Matty furrows his eyebrows. "What? I'm sorry, I didn't catch that." He asks me to repeat again, and I scoff.

"It's irrelevant. Anyway," I close the bathroom door, which forces me to step closer towards him. "I am done, Matthew. I am not cleaning up after your shit anymore. If you fuck up, you're alone. You should know better than this, hell, you should know this isn't doing you any good. So I'm done cleaning your vomit off of me, picking you up from the ground, nursing your hangovers and washing the lipstick stains off of your shirts. This is the last time." I stare at him, dead in the eye. I hope that my message gets to him by the way I altered my tone.

He smirks, confusing me. "You mentioned the lipstick stains. You're jealous." He smiles.

I loudly groan in desperation for Matty to stop being so immature. "For fuck's sake, do you think me being jealous would correlate with your vomit?" I point at him.

He holds my finger. "Stop mentioning my vomit for a minute, would you? I feel badly about it."

I jumped in a fit of anger. "How can I not? I can still smell it!"

He laughs. "I'm sorry, but you're throwing quite the tantrum there."

I take a deep breath in. "I'm going to bed."

I start to head towards my bed, but Matty takes my hand and stops me.

I turn around and look at him. He looks at me intensely, wanting his next words to look truly meaningful.

"Thank you. I'm going to try to be better, I promise. I just need to fix myself first." He slightly smiles.

I manage to smile back, despite my anger. "Try harder, please." I chuckle, somehow getting closer to him and brushing his hair back from his face. His eyes close in enjoyment, and I have to bite my lip from stopping myself from going further. He was with another girl.

My hands trail to his jawline and then move to the back of his neck. He opens his eyes and stares at me, wrapping his hands around my waist. I am lost.

I pull myself together and snap out of the trance Matty's eyes have on me. "Goodnight." I untangle myself from him and head towards my bunk bed.

It's for our own good.

He's left standing and now he's the one running his hands through his hair.

I close my eyes and try to sleep. Admittedly, I'm dying to crawl out of here and continue what was about to happen back there, but I find it twisted to do that after he had been with a girl, even worse having puked on me. You'd think that would be a turnoff, but apparently he's got me hooked enough for me to not be bothered.

A week ago, I'd be denying the fact that I felt attracted to Matty, but now I feel myself wishing that I was the girl that left the lipstick marks on him. I want it to be me, but I want it to be only me. I'd also love for him to sober up.

He has the potential to change, but there's always something holding him back, and I wanna know what it is. It's scarily interesting to attempt to figure out what's going on inside of Matty's head, and I think I wanna start with that poem.