102 (A Matt Healy Fanfic)

Chapter 13

// I'm not scared //
Matthew Fucking Healy, always being the good guy. There I was, standing in a dim-lit club bathroom, watching this guy smoke a cigarette, after he had just lectured me about my "behaviour." Although I had to admit, I am definitely the jealous type, the situation still seemed slightly annoying to me. And I needed to get that random guys taste out of my mouth.

"Can you light me up one pleaaase?" I begged Matty.

"Why on earth do you need a cigarette, love? You hated it the first time you tried it and only took like two drags." He stated matter-of-factly.

"I swear I can still taste that guy's fucking tongue in my mouth."

"Christ, Tris I didn't need that information but here you go."

The roll of his eyes communicated to me that he still didn't really approve of me smoking, but wasn't enough of a hypocrite to stop me. With a weak smile, he placed the cigarette between my lips and carefully lit it, making me laugh due to the extreme precautions he was going to trying to not burn himself. Once he had it lit, I stared at him, dazed at the way he took a drag so effortlessly. Was someone smoking attracting me? Taking a similar drag from my own, Matty in turn began looking at me, eyes filled with lust.

"You're so beautiful, for fucks sake Tristan. Here I am, trying to be a gentleman after I clearly hurt you, and all I want to do is jump your bones in a bathroom."

My mouth gaped open. Did Matty, the practical Saint, really just say that? Putting my own cigarette out, I took Matty's from his hand, took a drag, and then began kissing him. First on his neck, then moving achingly slowly up to his mouth. His movements began imitating my own, but going at a more torturous speed.

"Please Matty, can you please just fuck me. Right here, right now." I whispered into his ear. He immediately hesitated, then planted a kiss on my forehead, practically the universal gesture for "I'm sorry" or "just friends."

After an awkward walk home, Matty decided it was best if I didn't stay the night and went back to the hotel. Of course, I had  chugged some of the vodka in my water bottle on the way to cope with my rejection, so by the time we were outside the building (because of course, he had to walk me home), I was almost more tipsy than I had gotten earlier.

Through my somewhat blurry vision, I made out an amused Matty giggling at my struggle to stand up straight.

"Tris, you're a fucking mess." He said between laughs.

"You can leave now, we've clearly made it to the building." I drunkely said with annoyance.

"Do you actually think I'm letting you go up into that hotel with your creep ex boyfriend and random people everywhere alone?" He said with a more serious tone.

Without asking, he placed his hand on my waist and started helping me up the stairs to the entrance. Who thought it was necessary to have dozens of stairs on the streets of New York anyways? Once we got into the lobby, both of us were in better moods, however the struggle was pretending to be sober to the hotel staff.

After an oddly friendly elevator ride, and me trying far too hard to open the hotel door, I collapsed on the bed and fell asleep.

I woke with a pounding headache and read the time on the clock, 11 am. Beside the clock I spotted a note, with a water and Advil beside it.

Thought you would need these. I had to go back home but I stayed until eight and you said some very intriguing words in your slumber last night. Start getting ready and meet me at the subway station near my apartment at 4, we have some discussing to do.
Matty x