𝐀𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐚. ⁽⁽⁽ᵐᵃᵗᵗʸ ʰᵉᵃˡʸ⁾⁾⁾

Final Destination.

(Weyes Blood - Andromeda)

Before long, it became too cold to stay outside any longer. The thick layers of clothing, now sensibly worn, were no match for the desert night in January, and Matty and I admitted defeat by one in the morning. We pushed down the seats in the back of the car and curled up there, leaving the two hour drive home for daylight.

It had been so long since my last relationship, and even then, I had known it wasn't built to last. On the contrary, rolling over on the back seat and facing Matty made me feel like all was right with the world. He frowned a little in his sleep and wrinkled his nose, his eyes still firmly shut, and I felt a surge of affection all over again. Now that I could permit the emotion, it came in constant waves, sweetly exhausting. I didn't want it to stop.

I slept fitfully, my thoughts spinning and little anxieties forming. It wasn't as bad as it was before - this was uncertainty, not paranoia, and borne this time out of practicality rather than any doubt about Matty's true feelings. I hated how unpredictable the future was, how I couldn't be sure where I would succeed or fail. My leg began to cramp up, which woke me as the sun was starting to rise, throwing pale streaks of watery light across the sky and into the back of the car. I reached out and touched the glass of the window, feeling the chill on my fingertips, and withdrew it again, shivering.

A warm hand touched my neck, trailing down my back, and I turned to see Matty propped up on his elbow, slightly bleary-eyed.

'Hey,' he said softly.

'Hey.' I smiled giddily, dipping my head against his chest and letting him hold me close.

'Are you cold?'

I shook my head. 'I feel perfect.'

The drive back to Santa Monica was quieter than the one on the way out, and I guessed most people were lying in after the celebrations of the night before. Gradually, the early sun was overtaken by layers of grey cloud, and a faint drizzle of rain began to fall as we pulled up to the house, turning the bleached tarmac a darker grey. 

I made my way upstairs to shower as Matty boiled the kettle in the kitchen, and by the time I came down again in a dressing gown, he was curled up on a sofa by the window, balancing a laptop on his knee.

He nodded towards the steaming mug on the table in front of him. 'There's yours. Two sugars, right?'

'You remembered.' I leaned in to kiss his cheek, partly for the thrill of finally being able to do so, and sat beside him on the sofa. The screen of the laptop displayed flights, times and prices.

'I'm afraid we'll have to fly back pretty soon... I have a bunch of meetings later in the week. No rest for the wicked.'

'How soon?'

'Maybe tomorrow evening?'

'Oh,' I faltered. 'That's...'

'Too soon?'

'Well. Not that you get a choice, I know.' I paused. 'Perhaps I could stay an extra day?'

'You don't want company on the long flight?'

'I just think I need an extra few days to consider everything.' I tried to diffuse my words by sipping my coffee at the same time, but Matty's eyes widened.

'Okay.' He stared at the computer screen for a few moments, but I could almost see the mechanics of his inner monologue churning. 'What is there to consider?'

'How will our lives fit together when we get back? We can't be on holiday forever. We both tour, we both work.'

'Most couples work. They make time.'