andromeda // matty healy au

Years

The crisp air whistled across the Riviera. It tickled me, and I couldn't help but smile as I heard my boots click against the sidewalks of Montmartre. I looked up from the bottom of the staircase and saw that Sacre Coeur was positively breathtaking today, as the sun bounced off of its façade. Posters were glued to lampposts around me, from bands, comedy groups and musicals that had rolled through town.

But I wasn't rolling through town like them. I knew I was ready to stay somewhere. I belonged.

I felt unstoppable as I played some top 40 in my headphones. I had a gift for Claudette and a smile couldn't help but creep onto my face as I imagined what she would say when I showed it to her.

"Ah! Pour moi?"

 I plodded down the street in my boots and made my way to our townhouse. It wasn't much, just a small place but it was enough to Claudette and I to live. I rang the bell on the red-painted door and removed my earbuds. I heard shuffling from the other side as Claudette answered the door in a pajama and slippers. Her hair was sticking out all over the place.

"Celeste?" she answered the door with a quizzical expression and jabbed her thumb ovee her shoulder. "I thought you were upstairs asleep."

"I got up early to get you a present!" I said, holding up the bag of sweets.

"A gift for me?" She exclaimed and opened the door for me to enter into our mudroom. Her hazel eyes were glued to the bag and she couldn't contain her excitement. "Oh! From my favourite patisserie?"

"Of course," I said as I placed the bag onto the kitchen countertop. "I had to go early before they sold out." She pulled the bag away from me and nearly bowled me over in the process. Claudette's greedy fingers teared at the box.

"Cannoli's!" she squealed, already holding one in her hot little hand.

"Happy one year of living together!" I said with a smile. "I've had a really fun time with you and I wanted to thank you for your help navigating the area for the past 365 days." With a mouth full of pastry cream and eyes welling with tears, Claudette pulled me into a hug. 

"Oh, Celeste, it has been an absolute pleasure so far. I am so glad that you contacted me when for your university exchange." She pulled away and her eyes bored into mine. "And thank you... for the cannoli's."

"Don't worry about it, honey." I smiled back at her. "Hey, but please save me one!" I had to snatch one onto my plate; Claudette had already inhaled so many.

"Oh, that reminds me," she wandered around the kitchen opening drawers and cupboards. "I have a gift for you, too."

I grew tired of her telling me to wait as she endlessly searched every container in the house and made my way up to my bedroom. There wasn't much in it, but I didn't spend much time in it anyway. I had the cutest view of Montmartre from my balcony, and I wanted to spend my time sitting on it. I stepped onto the cool tile floor and settled into the chair that faced the street. I snickered to myself - Claudette thought she got the better deal by getting the bigger room, but she was missing out on the best part of the house.

"Madame?" my roommate's voice travelled through the screen of the balcony. Without getting up from my chair, I slid it open and watched her stand in the frame awkwardly. She passed her weight from foot to foot as she held a small, bulky envelope in her hands.

"I know I called this a gift," she said, to no one in particular, "but it isn't from me, it's from an old friend I ran into. We had a chat one afternoon, and I found this in the mail the next day."

"Claudette, if it's from Jamie, I don't want it." I shooed her away with my hand.

I started seeing Jamie not long after I came to France. We met at a bar that Claudette took me to within my first month of being here, as a way to show me the downtown life. We had a good time together at first, but things took a turn for the worse and Jamie started getting angry. That chapter of my life is closed.

"It's not from Jamie, please just open it." She placed it into my lap and gave me a weary, but comforting smile. I heard her close the screen behind her and she left me to sit the fresh air again.

The front of the envelope was blank, but when I flipped it over, extremely small chicken-scratch printing read: "Thanks for the coffee C. Next time, it'll be my treat."

It was someone we both knew, and I hated how I hoped it was and wasn't him at the same time. That one 'him' that meant to much to me. Preaching to me about how I should have been honest with him from the get-go, just to have him hide the fact that his band was going on tour. It boiled my blood to have him doing better without me, especially after breaking the one rule that made him hesitant to date me in the first place.

The paper inside the envelope was crumpled and folded over and over again. Out of nervous fidgeting?  Unfolding it, I saw the same penmanship as before. This time, it was a full letter, addressed to me.

Celeste,

I hope this finds you well. Been thinking about us lately, and how great we were. I took your advice and read  the Picture of Dorian Gray and that bloke's not half bad after all. You should visit his grave, now that you and Claudette live nearby.

I'm sorry that I had to leave. I hope you understand why I left, and I hope you can forgive me one day. It hurts to think that you hate my guts.

I think of you daily, love.

Matty

After reading the note, I pressed it into my lap and took in a deep breath. Feelings of meeting, getting to know, and saying goodbye to Matty came back. There were too many emotions to keep track of, but they all made me feel warm, like love did.

I held the envelope in my hand and felt a lump under the paper. I shook out the contents and a small black tube rolled into my hand. Lipstick? I opened the lid and pushed up a lipstick in the richest red I had ever seen in my life.

Blue undertones, this guy really knows his stuff.

I swatched the colour onto my hand and watched the vibrant pigments nearly jump off my skin. How did he know that this colour would look good on me?

I took the lipstick and the letter back into my bedroom and sat in front of my vanity mirror. The lipstick grew hot in my hands. My mouth couldn't wait to see what it looked like on, but my brain pulled up the memory of me telling Matty about wanting to kiss Oscar Wilde's grave.

It's literally a crime, don't be stupid.

If it's so stupid, why am I smearing the colour onto my lips?

Because you miss him.

Maybe I'm doing it for myself, did you every stop to consider that? It just so happens that this lipstick is the perfect segway into something I can finally checkoff my bucket list.

But-

No, I want to be selfish and wear this beautiful colour and fulfil a dream that even Oscar fucking Wilde would be proud to see. I'm doing it for me.

I'm doing it for me.