metro card//MGG

4

I was gonna update yesterday in honor of the best holiday, but there were like 80 different things I had to do :( anyway, enjoy!

when I walk into the apartment the next morning, it's dead silent-- oddly so. I know that he likes to sit in the dark in the early hours, but he's not in the kitchen and when I call out to him, there's no response. I start to wonder if Matthew went out already and just forgot to text me that he wouldn't be in.

despite my better judgement, I start to poke around. a mess of journals are scattered across the coffee table, a dirty plate sits in the sink. he's obviously been here since last night; I remember him walking me back to my apartment in the cold, how it pinched my skin and how we rode the subway back to Ren's studio in black-tie attire. I remember slightly inebriated laughs as we slumped against the plastic seats.

"Matthew!" I push open the door to his bedroom, which has been left ajar. inside, the man himself is wrapped up in so many blankets and pillows, it looks like something out of a French palace.

he's snoring gently. it's actually kind of cute, the way his mouth hangs slightly open and the silk pajamas he's got on. it's beyond cozy, but he's got a meeting with one of the writers in an hour.

"Matthew!" I approach the bed tentatively; part of it feels slightly personal. he's dead asleep, though, and the only response I get is a quick wriggle of his nose. he has a habit of doing that, I've observed-- like a little tic.

we really don't have time for this, so I gently shake his shoulder.

"Matthew." my voice comes out gentle, but the contact causes his eyes to slowly open and his breathing to change. he blinks up at me, stretching his arms above his head and letting out a child-like whiny sound to accompany it.

"Ophelia, what are you doing here?" he yawns. the friendliness in his voice brings a little smile to my face, even if it isn't really the time.

"uh, it's 9:30."

at this, his eyes widen to the size of saucers. he sits up so quickly, I'm surprised he doesn't get a head rush.

"how?"

"I don't know, maybe you forgot to set your alarm." I shrug. "you've got a meeting soon, though."

"fuck, fuck, fuck!" he leaps out of bed, limbs akimbo, and starts to move around his room. I can only stand and watch as he runs to his attached bathroom to brush his teeth. I should probably set out some clothes to save time.

"do you want me to find you something to wear?" I ask.

"no, no... maybe." he pokes his head out of the bathroom with an apologetic smile. I nod and hurry to his walk-in closet, amazed by the sheer volume of clothing. I try to work as quickly as possible, pulling open drawers and going through shirts on hangers. finally, I settle on a simple outfit with a statement sweater that screams his style.

when it comes to his socks-- which he's told me he always has mismatched-- I pick out a pair with bananas on one and penguins on the other. by the time he emerges from the bathroom, I've set out an ensemble.

"you're the greatest." he seems genuinely pleased, which makes me swell with sartorial pride. for a second, I freeze there— until he glances at me again with a small smile and I realize he needs to change. what's wrong with me?

"I'll, um, put some coffee on." before he can see the red in my cheeks, my feet propel me to the kitchen. I keep hearing him bump around as the Keurig turns on; the rushing might make him more clumsy, and it makes me feel a little better about being so awkward.

I lean against the counter, reading an article on my phone while I wait. if he leaves within the next five minutes, he'll make the meeting. unrelated, I also have to do some video planning before the day is up or I'll actually be behind on my midterm project.