𝐀𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐚. ⁽⁽⁽ᵐᵃᵗᵗʸ ʰᵉᵃˡʸ⁾⁾⁾

Ladbroke Grove.*

(((a/n: you know what time it is)))

Tonight (I Wish I Was Your Boy)

(Beach House - Levitation)

Twelve hours later I was stuck into re-reading Crome Yellow, my feet elevated above my head as I lolled sideways in the armchair. My phone began to vibrate, and the book snapped closed instantly in my hand when I read the caller ID.

'Hey, how was it?'

'I got a minor bollocking, but nothing too bad. And the vocals are shaping up nicely,' Matty chirped, airily at first, but then dropping his voice to a low, conspiratorial tone. 'I'm still west... do you want to come to mine?'

'Yes,' I breathed, already pacing to my bedroom to change. 'Shall I bring anything?'

'Wine? You choose something. And then we can continue where we left off.' I could practically hear the smile curling his lips upwards.

'Perfect. I'll be no more than an hour.'

The thought of getting public transport for this was unappealing; I didn't want anybody else's eyes on me except Matty's. I called a cab after brushing my hair out and changing into a dress - easy to remove, I figured, as though it even mattered at this point. The driver dropped me off in Ladbroke Grove, and I picked up the wine from an off-licence before walking down the side streets, acutely aware that I was retracing steps I had taken six months previously, albeit with far different intentions. The evening was mild for April, the air still heavy and humid from the rain that fell earlier in the day.

Matty had changed too, when he opened the door, barefoot but now sporting scruffy blue jeans that had been washed to within an inch of their life, and a soft green jumper. I wished so badly that I could freeze time and capture the image of him, a perfect picture, a man I was drawn to as though he was lit up from within. He held my gaze steadily for a second as he leaned against the door, apparently enjoying the sight too.

'Hello. You were very quick.'

'Was I?' I stepped over the threshold into the hallway, feeling the cool, calm concrete walls of the house enveloping me. Having known him better since the last time I had walked through the door, nothing was a surprise any longer; it made sense, the way that everything was laid out and furnished, the atmosphere of his home. The knot of pressure in my stomach dissolved, and I suddenly felt entirely serene. 'I'm glad you didn't get in too much trouble.'

'It wouldn't have mattered either way,' Matty reached towards me and pulled me in by my waist. His kisses were urgent, excitable - I barely kept hold of the bag with the wine, setting it down on the dining table by the time he had released me.

'I can't be arsed with opening that bottle now, can you?' I confessed, turning back to him hopefully. He wore a glowing expression on his face, the longest tendrils of dark hair falling to frame it as he stood in the kitchen doorway, and when he spoke, it was with a hint of impatience.

'No... we've got better things to do,' he held out his hand. 'Come on up.'

'You really committed to the aesthetic, didn't you?' I giggled; Matty's bedroom was much like the rest of his house: sparsely arranged, with cool, tranquil grey walls, against one of which there lay a stack of books. I looked at the bed, and the smooth sheets we were about to disturb.

'You say that but I still have a lot in storage. Just give me a few months and it'll be organised chaos,' he rolled his eyes facetiously. 'I love it when you get horny for interiors.'