Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

February, 2008

“I'm not sure we should be doing this, neither of us is a professional hairdresser in any capacity”

Mötley Crüe’s ‘Public Enemy #1’ blares through the small speaker set on top of the toilet lid, the music reverberating off the bathroom's tiled walls. Matty attempts to brush the bleach onto your hair, narrowly missing your eyebrow for what felt like the sixth time. You'd prefer to not come out of this situation looking like 90s madonna if you could help it.

“Could you maybe not get the stuff on my face? I'm not sure I'd look as amazing as I do with bleached brows,” you say, flicking Mattys hand away from your hair, straightening your posture on top of the sink. Your elbow accidently knocks into the faucet and you curse out loud.

“You're right love, you'd look well hideous without brows” Matty retorts, laughing in your face. He's right, doesn't mean he has to say it.
“At least I have any sort of eyebrows, I'd get yours filled in if I was you.” Now it's your turn to laugh at him, his jaw hitting the floor at your comment. He clutches his chest with his hand, bending over for dramatic effect as if to say: “You wound me”. You fall into each other's arms, fighting over the ipod once again.

The song changes, and Matty resumes his attempts at bleaching your hair properly, failing once again. It had been a stupid, stoned impulse decision to buy the bleach at all. The local drugstore sold it for cheap, and you had some pocket change on you. Matty wanted you to buy the red dye, and you dismissed him immediately, because even he knew you'd look absolutely terrible as a redhead.
You hum along softly to David Bowie's “Suffragette City”. Bowie was your Idol. The song reminds you of him. Of Matty. It reminds you of when you first met.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

You were 15, pacing the street late at night, your boyfriend was blowing up your phone. Insincere apologies and “i love you”’s filled your screen. 4 missed calls. Tears were streaming down your face, making you not quite able to see straight.
The song playing, was blaring in your headphones, almost deafening. The song didn't fit at all to your current situation, but that didn't bother you.

It wasn't long before you reached a bus stop, sitting down. You didn't even know where you were.
Suddenly, like it was out of your control, you let out broken sobs, no longer silently crying. How fucking embarrassing.
You're not sure how long you’d been sitting there, in the dark, shivering in the cruel November weather.
You hadn't even noticed the person walking up to you.

He’d positioned himself in front of you, twisting his neck to get a look underneath your hood.
“You alright?” his voice sounded soft, concerned even. Through muffled sobs, you managed to look up at him.
He had a thick, fluffy jacket on. Oddly feminine for bloke, and you were pretty sure it was a women's coat. It basically swallowed him whole. You almost laughed at the sight. It almost made you forget about the night's events.

You’d had yet another fight with your boyfriend, Phillip. The two of you fought a lot, but never like this. Sure, he’d said some hurtful things, things you maybe shouldn't have forgiven as quickly as you did, but he had never, ever, gotten violent with you. Until tonight.
You'd barely registered it when it happened, your brain not properly processing his actions. In the midst of his screaming, he raised his hand. Raised. his. hand.
It came down with a crash against your left cheek, the sound echoing through the house. Because he did, in fact, have his own flat. Because 24 year olds usually have that.

Everything hit you at once. You'd managed to pick yourself up off the ground at a speed which would have given even world record holders a run for their money. You didn't bother grabbing anything else, you just needed to get out, now.
You could faintly hear his voice calling out from behind you, begging you to please, please come back. And what? Let him put his hands on you again? No way. A rare moment of clarity.
Fucking cunt

You’re brought back to reality by the sound of the stranger's voice.
“I’m Matty.” he offered his hand, and you shook it. “What're you doing out here in the cold? Its fuckin’ freezing.” He's right, it was cold. It hadn't occurred to you to take your coat with you.
You stuttered out a pathetic response of your name, barely making eye contact with him. A few beats pass before Matty starts ruffling around in his coat pockets. Raising your eyebrows, you watch him.

You can hear the faint sound of keys in his right pocket, and it's not long before he pulls out a joint from his left. It looks crumpled and old, like it had been there for a while.
“Spliff? It looks like you need it more than me.” He chuckles, and it somehow makes you feel better. He makes a move to sit next to you, and you twitch slightly when his shoulder touches yours. The bench is quite narrow, so you know it's not on purpose. It doesn't bother you quite as much as it should, given he is a stranger.

He takes out his lighter. It looks old and used, the black plastic chipping off around the top. It looks like it's a miracle it even works. You can see white writing along the side of it. M.H. Initials? His initials? Matty H something.
He starts burning the tip. Rotating the joint to get an even burn, you watch his movements closely, taking in some of his features.

His hair was curly but frizzy, you could tell he didn't pay it much mind. His features seemed soft, almost feminine. He was clean shaven, his pale skin a stark contrast to the dark brown of his hair.
Matty lets you take the first drag, stating “The first hit’s the best, and I've always been a gentleman”, flashing a grin your way. That made you laugh. You take a drag, letting the warm feeling spread through your body.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked timidly, his voice lowering.
“Absolutely not.” You mutter, looking him straight in the eyes for what seems like the first time that night. A smile.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“D’you think I'd look good as a blonde? I feel like I'd smash it,” Matty says, inspecting his hair in the mirror behind you. He has gorgeous locks, and you're constantly telling him to try and take care of them, he just doesn't listen. You study his features before giving him an answer.
“Maybe. Either that or you'd look like a bad hooker,” Matty gasps, shoving your shoulder in protest. The movement makes your elbow bang against the faucet again, but you ignore the pain this time
“I'll let you know i'd make an amazing hooker, thanks very much,” He proclaims quite loudly, making the both of you burst into a laughing fit.

You take the brush from Matty, twirling in your hand. George had taught you how to do that. An idea pops into your head.
“We could give you a few blonde highlights, just to try it out. There's no need for you to go full Elle Woods immediately” A giggle escapes your lips, picturing Matty with long, blonde hair. That’d be a sight.

“Let's do it, right now,” he breathes, visibly excited.
“Really? Adam’d take the absolute piss out of you, you know.” Matty rolls his eyes obnoxiously before he speaks. “Well then let Adam hold on to his toxic ideas of masculinity, I need a change.” This piques your interest. Matty? Need a change? Weird.
“What, did some bird break your heart this time? That's new, even for you Matthew,”

You can see him visibly cringe at your use of his full name. You know he hates it, and that is exactly why you do it. Getting a rise out of him is your favorite pastime.
“Switch with me then,” you say, and he obliges, letting you hop off the counter. You mix up a new batch of bleach and part off his hair into small sections. Little pink hair bands hold his curls in place. You shoot him a look and he nods, giving you the go-ahead. The bleach goes on smoothly, your practiced hand much less prone to mistakes than Mattys.

It doesn't take long before you're both sitting on your bed with foils in your hair. You manage to snap a picture of Matty on your polaroid camera. The light reflects off the foils, distorting the picture slightly. Matty demands to see it, but you decide to keep it for yourself. Can't get everything you want.
It's Mattys' turn on the music.
You've decided on a turn system for music when you're together, to avoid the gnarly fights you used to have over who gets to control the ipod.
He picks the latest Deftones album. It's not really your taste, and you tell him as much.

“S’not my fault your music taste consists of pop trash. Get well soon”, now it's your turn to shove him, and he almost falls off the bed. Your fights over music happened frequently. He insisted on listening to real music, while you couldn't care less if it sounded good.

The timer dings and you both get up to wash your hair in the sink. Water splashes everywhere, absolutely soaking the bathroom. You don't care. It's just water.
Towels litter the bathroom floor, soaking up the mess. Matty helps you dry your hair after you promise to help with his. The warm air feels nice on your neck.

“I like it, it makes me look camp,” Matty states, admiring himself in the mirror. Of course he'd say something like that.
“You look great, now get dressed, I've messaged Hann. He's picking us up at half 11”
Adam was one of your best mates, and the only one who had a car. You and Matty were still in school, along with George, another one of your friends. Adam and Ross shared a flat on the outskirts of the city. Adam's mother had gifted him a car for his 18th birthday last year. A bright red Kia. Bumper stickers littered the back, your favorite reading ‘Vehicle of legends”

Matty had borrowed one of your tops, specifically a mesh top you'd gotten from Hollister a few weeks prior. It was adorned with a black tank top underneath, paired with the black skinny jeans you're convinced have fused with his legs at this point.
His hair had dried by that point, dark curls now in contrast with blonde streaks. They framed his face. He looked good.
You’d gone for a more colorful ensemble, opting for baggy jeans instead of skinny ones. The bottom had already been well ripped up from years of dragging them on the ground. You paired said jeans with a wine-red off the shoulder jumper. You’d always loved that color. It reminded you of your favorite flowers, red roses.

The window closed softly, and you silently thanked God you lived on the first floor. Adam was already parked down the road from your house, impatiently waiting for the two of you. The radio was playing as you got in. Matty immediately started going on about how pop music has ruined the music scene and how it was all “soulless, meaningless droning” and “had no feeling anymore”. He always did this, and you'd learned to tune it out by then.

The drive was short, and you arrived at your destination not long after you’d set off. The air smelled like water and wet pavement. It had been pissing down earlier in the day.
‘The spot’ was an abandoned paper factory, affectionately renamed “Caroline's house” for any eavesdropping parents.
Carolines had been abandoned for well over 5 years before you started hanging out there, not many knew about it.
The three of you had already made your way through the back entrance. The front had been blocked off years ago, a futile attempt at keeping kids out. There was one specific room you always went to, and that was the office. It had a huge terrace with an amazing view of the city below. The glowing lights made you feel small and irrelevant in the vastness of the world.

The night was bright under the full moon, making it easy to see outside. Adam always brought an emergency flashlight with him when you went to Carolines. He was the voice of reason in the midst of the chaos. The responsible one. He always made sure everyone got home safe, talked your way out of situations with coppers on multiple occasions, and knew when to tell the bartender to switch drinks to water or juice. You’d always thank him the morning after.

“What even is your shirt, mate,” Adam asked with a grin on his face. He loved to take the piss out of Matty for his camp-ness. No harm no foul, Matty would do the exact same to him when the opportunity presented itself. Eyeing him up and down, he shook his head and went back to picking at his nails.
“She let me borrow it for tonight. Looks good, yeah?” Matty shoots back.
“Yeah sure, that and those white streaks in your hair make you look like a proper girl, you know”
You have to laugh at his statement, because it does ring true. From a certain distance, anyone could mistake Matty for a woman.

“You wish I was a girl, it’d make you feel less guilty about your sex fantasies, innit?” Matty cackles at his own words. Adam chucks a lighter at him, and misses. It instead bounces off the railing of the terrace and clatters down onto the ground somewhere behind you.

That was your cue to take out the small baggy from the pocket of your jeans. Going to look for the lighter Adam had just thrown, you turn around to see he’d already snatched your papes and weed, and started to roll a spliff.

“Oh come on, I look away for a second and you steal my weed. What, are you too broke to buy your own?” You huffed, sitting down on the floor next to him.

“Girls don't roll their own spliffs. You should know that by now, love” he said with a wink.

Cue eye roll.
“Oh thank you so much, what would I ever do without you, Hann? Fuck off.” you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. This was never a display of chivalry, it was simply Adams' way of trying to get under your skin. Your stubborn self wouldn't let him, of course. Flashing him an award winning smile, you lay back on your elbows and eye him as he rolls your joint for you.
Matty was preoccupied with gathering enough cardboard so he could sit on the floor comfortably. The three of you couldn't be arsed bringing in furniture from the office, so you were left with the cold, unforgiving concrete floor of the terrace to sit on.

The minutes ticked by and Adam took his sweet time, presenting the spliff with a look of pride. You reach for it, seeing as you already had the lighter in your hand. Instead of handing it to you. Adam shakes his head.
“Girls dont light their own spliffs, either” You scoff at that, though deciding against smacking him upside the head. You hand him the lighter.

Mattys giggles can be faintly heard over your bickering, and Adam finally lights up. The distinct earthy smell fills up the air around you. They both let you have the first drag, stating something along the lines of “Ladies first” another eye roll.

“Fucking wankers”, you mutter under your breath, and finally, you inhale. It hits you almost immediately, a soft, fuzzy feeling that reverberates through your veins into every inch of your body. The two of them let out a laugh at your expression, utterly euphoric.
Adam takes the next drag, hitting him just as hard as it did you. He leans against the glass sliding door, letting his eyes droop closed.
“Fucking hell, this is some strong weed.” He lets out a rough cough, “Where’d you even get it from?”

“Oh y’know, just some guy. Same as always I s’pose,”
Matty spoke “What, d’you shag him or something? No one just gives out this type of premium stuff on a whim,”

This makes you chuck the grinder at him. It hits him square in the chest. You hum contentedly, grinning at him in amusement when he doubles over in pain. You bicker back and forth, calling each other names. Adam passes the spliff back to you, and you take another hit.
Time passes slowly, The clouds slowly reveal more and more of the full moon. It is quite beautiful tonight, you notice.

Adam produces a bottle of tequila from his ‘gay-ass tote bag’ as Ross affectionately calls it. You take turns taking swigs straight from the bottle, Matty managing to spill some onto his mesh top, making quite literally everything reek of alcohol.
You felt good. The high mixed with the healthy amount of tequila made you feel like you were floating. You could tell Matty was just as hammered as you, seeing as he was now straddling Adams lap, trying to kiss him.
After multiple attempts at getting him off, Matty stood up on his own, stating that he didn't want Hann to pop a boner au cause de his womanly features.

The three of you laugh and laugh until you finish the spliff. You’d never had a good tolerance for anything, whether it be weed or alcohol. You weren't particularly small, it just always hit you way harder than Adam or Ross. Even Matty managed to pull himself together when the situation called for it. You, however, were stumbling and tripping over your feet the entire walk home. It had been pissing down the entire morning. Puddles littered the streets, not an ideal weather for someone who was too wasted to even have any sort of depth perception.

Adam had to leave suddenly, picking up a last minute shift at the shop he worked at. It was in the opposite direction of where you came from, leaving you and Matty to walk home.
It wasn't a long walk, 30 odd minutes or so. It was made significantly longer by your inability to walk in a straight line to save your life. Echoing laughs filled the streets as Matty helped you trudge along. Your pants dragged on the floor as usual, which meant they were also dragging through the numerous puddles, soaking them.
You stop suddenly, looking down and pouting at the darkened material of your pants. For some inexplicable reason, this made you stomp your feet like a child. Matty broke out in uncontrollable laughter, tears forming in his eyes. You were actually acting like a child.

“I don't know why you insist on wearing those insanely baggy pants. Look at me! My pants don't get wet AND my ass looks phenomenal in skinny jeans” He twirls around you, making you feel slightly dizzy.

“Oh fuck off!! Not everyone is an attention slag like you, have some decency for once in your life!” You retort, shoving him out of your line of sight. Due to your state, Matty quickly catches up to you.
The steps of your house come quicker than expected. Both of you make your way to the east side of the first floor, where your bedroom window remains slightly ajar. You'd wedged an old shirt between it to keep it from closing all the way. You'd gotten sneaking out down to an art, always knowing when, where and how. Your mother had caught you once. It was your first time. You knew not to make those same mistakes again.

Matty helped you hop onto the windows ledge, his hands grabbing at your sides. While he looked frail, Matty was actually quite strong, lifting you up without breaking a sweat.
You're sitting on the edge, slightly taller than him now. Peering down, you reach your arms out. The two of you hugged tightly, whispering quiet “goodnight”s and “sleep well”s. Saying goodbye after a night out often felt strangely melancholic, you never wanted the other to leave.
You've been attached at the hip since that night. He’d convinced you to break up with Phillip, stating he was a bastard who shouldn't be allowed near women ever again.
Matty went on to introduce you to his mates after you’d found out you went to the same highschool. That was nearly 3 years ago now.

Late nights often make you wonder what would have happened if you hadn't gone to that specific bus stop and met Matty. If he had ignored your crying instead of offering you weed and sitting down next to you. He’d always been charming, like a magnet, he attracted everyone around him. Sure, he was a bit pretentious at times, but everyone has their faults.

You roll over and try to sleep, slowly coming down from your high. You made a mental note to take it easy next time, maybe pace yourself. It was hard to know your limits when it came to substances, and Matty was the same way. Adam was the ever responsible one, never too drunk or high, always the parent. You were grateful for him, knowing what situations you'd be stuck in if Adam had not been there to smooth things over.

The tiredness hits you in waves. Glancing at the clock left of your desk, it read 3:26 am. Fuck. You try to ignore the fact that you had to be up in about 4 hours. You close your eyes, welcoming the rest.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

A harsh knocking sounded from the direction of your window, scaring the shit out of you. You bolt up, pissed at the disturbance. Turning to face the window, and are met with a familiar grin. Matty.
It takes all of 5 seconds of him being in your room before you start cursing at him for waking you up like that. He simply shrugs his shoulders and sits in his designated chair. A maroon sofa chair in the corner in front of your bed. It even has M.H carved into the wood, because Matty had some sort of fetish for carving his initials into things. A sign of ownership? It made you wonder.
Shuffling around the room, you kick your still wet jeans off into the corner, instead picking up a denim skirt. You’d wanted to wear that same red top to school, but seeing as you had fallen asleep wearing it, you chucked it into the same corner as the pants.
A pink baby tee caught your eye from the chair Matty was sitting in. You silently point at it and he passes it to you. This isn't the first time you've changed in front of him. It didn't happen often, but what was the point of kicking him out? It's not like he was actively staring anyway.

After quickly changing, you go to put on some makeup. Makeup made you feel pretty, pretty enough to go outside. The only person who sees your bare face regularly is Matty. Maybe George. You didn't go anywhere without it.
You can feel Matty looking at you from the corner of your eye. Raising your eyebrows at him, you ask him what he's staring at.

“D’you reckon i can try some of that?” he gestures vaguely at the eyeshadow brush in your hand “I think i’d look class with my new highlights.” he twirls his hair around his finger, giving you a look.
You look at him skeptically, before breaking out into a smile. Matty smiles back. It's not long before he’s sat in front of you, wincing whenever the brush makes contact with his eyelid. You tell him hes just not used to it, and to just stay still, for fucks sake.

Once you're done, you take a step back to admire your work. You have to admit, he looks good. Really good. His eyes were lined with a dark purple shadow, making them appear slightly bigger. He takes his fingers, slightly smudging the out corners, giving him a catty look.

“I think you might even look even better than me,” you say, looking him up and down. This is one of those rare moments where you can't read Mattys' expression at all. Finally, he opens his mouth
“No one could look better than you, trust me,”

A beat of silence before he speaks again
“I do look ravishing though, d’you reckon Adam'll like this more than the highlights?” He always manages to make himself laugh. Then in typical Matty fashion, he pulls out a beat up looking joint from the pocket of his too tight jeans.
“Fancy a spliff?”
“Matty, for christ's sake, we have school in about an hour, and you want to smoke now?”
“It's the only true way to get through Mr. Henderson's maths class, you know it'll be unbearable if we don't.” translation: please smoke with me. He gives you a look, because you know he's right.

It was too late to protest. He’d already made his way to open your window, knowing how much you hate stinking up your room.
An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, and you find your place next to him.

The wind and rain had calmed down, so Matty had no difficulty lighting it. The smell filled your senses, almost overwhelming you. You were thankful for the fresh air.
He placed the spliff between your lips, watching you intently as you inhaled. Your orange lip gloss had rubbed off the filter, and transferred onto his lips. The weed wasnt as strong as last nights, but still, the sight of Mattys glossed lips made you break out into a fit of giggles. Time seemed irrelevant up until the point you had to run to catch your bus. Sweaty and out of breath, you sat down in your usual spot.

You can hear comments and insults being thrown at Matty from the back of the bus, but neither of you paid much mind. Matty was high as a kite, and too loopy (hungover) from the previous night to offer up one of his witty retorts. Instead, both of you gave them the bird from over the seat.
Matty was leaning against you, his arms hooked into yours. Neither of you spoke, listening to the soft rumbling of the bus. You stank of weed, anyone could smell it on you. Remembering a perfume bottle in your handbag, you take it out and douse yourself, as well as Matty in it.

“Oh for fucks sake, now everything smells like Jimmy Choo Illicit!” Matty whined, burying his head in his hands. “Couldn't you have picked a manlier perfume? I'm already walking a very thin line with all of this” He vaguely gestures to himself.

“Would you rather get kicked out after coming to school smelling like a fucking dispensary? Think ahead, Matthew!” He cringes visibly
“No need to get out the full government name, jesus” he shuffles up against you, and you can see his eyes are a light shade of red. There's no way the two of you would get through first lesson unnoticed.

George was already waiting for you guys at your stop. Greeting him with a hug, you try to avoid eye contact, yet somehow, he knows.

“Hey, you alright-?” He cranes his neck to get a better look at your face
“Are you–? Are you high??” He laughs out loud, smacking your arm to stabilize himself. You shoot him a death stare, but you can feel a laugh coming too. Matty let out a sarcastic haha before kicking George as a way to say get on with it, we have class.
The walk to the room through the sea of people in the halls feels like a claustrophobic hell. B.O ridden teenagers rub up against the three of you, some even (quite violently) shoving past.
It's a miracle you make it without Matty losing his mind at one of the hecklers. School was actual hell for Matty, and by proxy, you. Insults were thrown at him without a second thought, and the makeup he’d adorned today surely didn't help the comments.

He never let it truly get to him. He didn't care, and that's what you loved so much about him. This part of the city was set back about fifteen years in terms of acceptance and progressivity, so his flowery backpack and femininity wasn't exactly welcomed.
Adam had always taken the piss out of him for his outfits since they were boys, but he never, ever meant it seriously. They were like brothers, those two, and no amount of shit from other people (irrelevants, as Matty would put it) would be able to break them apart.

The way the room was set up, there were six tables of four, with two people always facing another two. You had sat in the seat next to George, with Matty sitting (well, more like laying) across the other two chairs opposite you. Mr. Henderson had given up on trying to get Matty to sit right a long time ago, instead just flat out ignoring him. It was always easier to fail than to teach.

“Fucking poofter, that one,” you can hear someone saying from behind you. You know they mean Matty.
Matty blows them both a kiss before getting flipped off by the shorter one. He loved taking the piss out of the people who insulted him, throwing them off.
George questions mattys makeup, and you tell him it was his idea. George had always supported Matty, using his insanely tall stature to fend off anyone giving him a hard time.

The lesson was going by at a snail's pace, with Matty being his usual self, interrupting at every possible moment. It was so clearly obvious he was off his tits, and Mr. Henderson looked suspicious. A particularly loud laugh from George had prompted him to throw you all out. You couldn't care less, getting up immediately.
Matty picked up his things from the floor, making a show out of bending over in front of the two boys that had insulted him earlier. They both scrunch their faces in disgust, muttering under their breaths. A giggle escapes you as they stare daggers.
“Fucking cunt,” one of them says, and now it’s your turn to blow them a kiss.

The three of you trudge down the halls, slowly but surely coming down from your highs. George suggests going to Ross and Adams flat, seeing as it's just a few bus stops away from the school. They share a flat above a Sainsburys, which is optimal for late night munchies. Adam even works there, so there's always opportunities to sneak a packet of crisps or a can of cola.

The bus stinks of sweat and mildew, as did all buses in britain. You get used to the stench after a while, your legs propped up onto George and Mattys laps. The back seat was always your favorite, giving you ample space to stretch a bit. You and George share headphones while Matty takes a quick power nap. He always lets you pick the music, and today it was Radioheads ‘No Surprises’. The music plays softly as buildings and trees pass by the window. The day was quite sunny, the light reflecting off of the windows of houses and offices. You'd sobered up enough to be able to think clearly by now.

These days were the best. They felt calm, like you could forget every other fucked up thing in your life. Your mother, your coursework. Nothing else existed in your little bubble except the people you were with. It felt peaceful, like a breath of fresh air.
Matty stirred awake as the bus halted to a stop, yawning for dramatic effect. He loved to exaggerate, ever the performer. George was the quiet, brooding type, trying desperately to go unnoticed, which proved rather difficult. Although he was barely coming up on his 18th birthday, he had grown to a staggering 6 '4, with a voice at least 3 or so octaves deeper than Mattys.
It had proven useful, you aways had someone to send into the smoke shop to buy fags or liquor, even if it always took a pep talk to even get him through the front door. George was convinced he didn't look older, even though he had never been carded. Ever.
Usually it was Adam who bought it for you, even though both Matty and Ross were also already 18. Matty had already been banned from most liquor stores in the area, so he proved rather useless in situations needing a bit of booze.

Mattys violent knocks against the flat door brought you back to reality
“C’MON OPEN UP ITS US,” his voice booms through the hallway. You can hear banging and shuffling coming from the other side of the door. It's so obviously Ross bumping into every available surface because he hadn't turned on the light yet. He was an avid day sleeper, mostly working night shifts. A particularly loud crash is followed by glass breaking.

Matty taps his foot impatiently, waiting for the door to finally open. Ross emerges, looking disgruntled and tired of Mattys shit.
“Mate, tell me, what possessed you to come knocking about at this hour, don't you have school-? I swear you're going to be the end of me one day” he rubs his eyes, getting the sleep out of them before moving out of the way to let the three of you in.

“First of all, it's like 11am, so not exactly the ungodly hour you were describing,” Matty starts “Second of all, we’ve been kicked out of class, so where better to come than here?”

The inside of the flat reeks of cigarettes and laundry detergent. Ross refuses to smoke on the terrace, deeming it too cold even in the middle of summer. Adam always smokes on the terrace, scared of staining the walls like in those addiction documentaries. A futile attempt, but at least he tries. Matty immediately lights a fag, sighing happily when the nicotine hit his system. School had always been an endurance test for him. Getting him to sit still for 2 hours without going for a cigarette proved nearly impossible. He was already itching by the 45 minute mark.

“What did you even do to get kicked out before 12?” He looks at George, who tells him exactly what happened with tears of laughter in his eyes. Matty rolls his before sitting down on the comforter located to the left of the TV, ashing into one of the various ashtrays situated around the house. George sits on the sofa next to Ross, and you make your way to your favorite spot, the table. Sitting cross legged on the table made you all face each other, which you quite liked.

“Brew?” George asks, looking up from his Ipod. Everyone nods, and he gets up to put on the kettle. Idle conversation fills the air, and Matty starts chatting about the new “groundbreaking” Metallica album. Matty was, if anything, a music snob. No one could stop him raving on about albums or artists, whether he was praising or criticizing them. Once he started, you couldn't stop him to save your life.

Minutes tick past when George brings back mugs of tea. Mattys mug has got the words “I
❤️ cum” on it. Ross has his usual Macclesfield Town mug, and you and George have the plain green ones Adam bought in an attempt to make the flat seem somewhat civilized.

Hours pass and Matty finally shuts up. You end up on top of him, sitting on the arms of the comforter. You're all watching Skins on the telly, and Mattys hand makes its way to your back, keeping you steady. He’d always been touchy like that, so this didn't bother you. You look at the sofa and see Ross passed out, drooling onto George's jumper. George, polite as ever, lets him sleep. It was a miracle Ross hadn't started snoring already.

You suggest to Matty that maybe it was time to get going, seeing as you lived on the other side of the city. George's place was right around the corner, so he decided to stay and look after Ross a bit before Adam got home from his shift. Britain's sweetheart.

Getting up as quietly as possible, making your way towards the door. Ross stirs as Matty almost knocks over his mug. The two of you make eye contact, silently laughing at Ross’ position, basically on top of George. He flipped you off, rolling his eyes and reaching for the remote, turning down the telly.
It was still fairly dark inside, so gathering everything proved a bit of a challenge. The curtains were drawn shut, the yellow material of them painting the house in a warm yellow hue.

You had spotted Mattys flowery bag in the corner next to the stove, and grabbed it along with a bottle of cola that was set on top of the kitchen counter. Hydration was important, after all, even if you knew Adam would be livid that you were stealing his shit again. What are mates for?

Matty grabbed both of your coats, mouthing “lets go,” before making his way towards the front door.
The bright light of the hallway burns your eyes. How do they survive coming out here when that fucking flat is always so dark? You think to yourself. You wonder if Ross has a vitamin D deficiency from the inherent lack of sunshine in his life, yourself excluded.

The bus ride home is rowdier, filled with kids from surrounding schools. The both of you hid in a corner towards the front, away from the dickheads that usually sat in the back row. You were both too tired to deal with anyone but each other.
He was right, everything did smell like jimmy choo now, and maybe you shouldn't have sprayed so much.
His hand wanders to his eyes, rubbing a bit of the eyeshadow off.
“Does it still look alright?” he asks, looking up from your lap. It had smudged a bit, melted off after a full day of wear. It's not like you used your expensive waterproof stuff, after all.
“You look fine, pretty actually,” You give him a tired smile, stroking his hair absentmindedly

“Can you even call a guy pretty? Isn't that, like, inherently degrading?” Matty mutters, a grin spreading onto his face.
“It's only degrading if you let it be. You Matthew Healy, are pretty. Pretty like a girl”
A laugh escapes you, imagining Matty as a woman. Knowing him, he’d be into it.

“Does it bother you? Y’know, me being feminine and wearing makeup.” The question surprises you. It's a rare thing seeing Matty this vulnerable. He doesn't care what other people think, but he does care what you think.

“You know I don't care, I actually prefer you this way.” you assure him.
“Though it's still my mission to convince you that the backpack is not the move you think it is.”

That earns you a frown from Matty. “It is! I'll let you know the lady at the store told be it very in this time of year” its always funny watching him get defensive over his fashion choices, even if he knows he’s fucked up and its hideous.

“Yeah maybe it's trendy... for 8 year old girls! But you do you mate, don't let me judge you,” that gets you an elbow to the gut.

The walk home is one you always take together. Arms hooked into each other, walking, sharing headphones. It's your turn on the music, putting on ‘This Charming Man’ by the smiths.

“You know, Morrissey sort of reminds me of you. You're really similar in your campness” Matty choked on air, shooting you a faux offended look.
“Did you seriously call Morrissey camp? He'd have your head for that.”

“You're both attention slags, so there's at least one similarity.” Matty doesn't say anything, knowing your words do, in fact, ring true. Matty loves attention, and man, is good at getting it.
He draws people to him like moths to a flame. Always the loudest, always the most interesting.

That one saying; “You can't be the prettiest girl at the party, but you always be the drunkest” is a personification of Matty. He tips back wine glass after wine glass, not caring about the stains on his shirt or the red ring around his lips. He then makes it a poor Hanns job to make sure he doesnt get into a scrap with three much bigger guys (which actually did happen last summer outside of a pub in london. Matty got out scot free, while Adam nearly suffered a heart attack).
You hug Matty goodbye, giving him a peck on the cheek.

You always dreaded coming home.
They say your biggest critic is your mind, but yours was your mother. You knew she had already gotten a call from the school saying you cut class. The moment you stepped into the living room, the yelling started. “How can you do this” and “What are you even doing with your life” turned into “Look at yourself, you look like a whore and you're going to school like that?” or “Were you out with that little gay boyfriend of yours again?”

You try to tune it out, not letting it get to you. She's been like that for as long as you can remember, never letting up for even just a second. You weren't the best kid, but she sure isn't helping you “get on the right track” as she liked to say.

Tears well up in your eyes when you finally shut your bedroom door. Your first instinct is to call Matty. He picks up after two rings, immediately hearing the quiver in your voice.
He tells you he’ll be there as soon as he can.
Minutes pass by slowly until you hear a familiar, although uncharacteristically soft, knock at your window. Matty.
Your puffy eyes meet his and he can tell you’d been crying. No words were exchanged as he took you into your arms, his hands soothingly stroking your hair as you let out muffled sobs into his chest. It broke his fucking heart to see you like this. You were extensions of each other, the others' pain was always your own.
“It's all so shit. Why cant she just be normal one fucking time.” your voice audibly shakes, partially out of anger and partially out of exasperation.
“I know i suck, I know I'm a bad daughter but-,” Matty cuts you off. “You’re fucking amazing, you know that?” His words only make you cry harder.

He holds you close, whispering sweet nothings into your ear, the sound of his voice similar to the way he spoke to you that night. His hands feel cold against your skin, and you know he’d rushed to your house without grabbing his coat. You look up at him, seeing his hair was unruly, curls falling into his face. The blonde highlights littered his dark hair and he ran his hand through them, brushing them to the side to get a better look at you.
“D’you want to sit down? We can listen to music. Whatever you want, and won't even comment on how shit it is, promise,” He knew you didn't want to talk about it then, you never did.

You sit in silence, your face still in his chest, staining the light blue material of his shirt. You quietly apologize, knowing how much he loves that shirt. He tells you to shut up, and that it didn't matter.
He had gotten it in Barcelona at some tourist shop for 50 quid. Insane price for a tshirt that just said “Barcelona” on it, but he held it dear to his heart. It reminded him of his childhood summers.

“There's a bottle of um…,” you trail off, gesturing to the second drawer of your nightstand. Matty understands, and reaches over you to open it. The drawer is filled with half eaten granola bars, bracelets, jewelry, the odd vape for when it was too cold to go outside. Matty always took the piss out of you for having them, saying they were ‘so fucking girly it hurt’. After a second of rummaging, he took out a half drunk bottle of Bacardi. It always sat in your nightstand for when you needed it, and you definitely needed it now.
“Only you'd have a giant bottle of rum in your nightstand,” Matty says softly, searching your expression. The corners of your mouth tug upwards at his words, and you crack a smile.

He opens it for you, and grabs an abandoned cup from your desk. The cup he had gifted you on your 17th birthday. It was covered in flowers and stars, very Matty. Very you. Pouring a healthy amount into the glass, he hands it to you.
“To shitty situations” He raises it, clinking it against your cup. He takes a swig straight from the bottle. You down the whole thing in one go, wincing as the alcohol burns down your throat.

“You feel better?” he asks, pouring more into your cup. You nod, before taking another drink. “I just need to get drunk and forget,” you sigh. Matty starts to speak again.
“That's an unhealthy way to go about it. Soon enough I'll be picking you up from corners because you can't handle your liquor. It's a recipe for alcoholism, innit?” you cackle at his words prompting Matty to raise his eyebrows at you.
“Oh come off it!,” How many times have you been so drunk you couldn't find your own dick if you tried. Sort yourself out before criticizing my drinking habits.” you scoff

You decide ‘Wonderwall’ by Oasis is the right soundtrack for the night. You lay down next to Matty, your shoulders and thighs touching each other. You look up fondly at the dozens of yellow stars littering your ceiling. Reminiscent of your early childhood, you couldn't bear to take them down. You still felt like a child, your heart yearning for the same innocence you no longer possessed. A distinct naïveté you missed dearly. After your breakup with Phillip you'd realized that the world wasn't all it was cut out to be. People wanted, and they took. It didn't matter to them if they hurt others, because as long as they were satiated, nothing else mattered.

You turn to your left, draping your arm over Mattys stomach. He let out a deep breath, raising his right arm to draw light circles onto your back. His nails had grown out longer than usual, but the sharpness of them was comforting through the thin material of your tank top. The edge of your small twin bed dug into your back.
The two of you laid like that for hours before sleep took over your body. The stars on the ceiling blurred as your eyes started to shut. You let out a soft hum, settling into Matty even more, holding him close.

You don't know how long he stayed, but he was gone when you woke up. You feel a sticky note attached to your forehead, the glue rubbing off on your skin. You could barely read Mattys erratic handwriting. The note read: you fell asleep, hope your hangover isn't as bad as mine. left you some Advil on your dresser xx.
Your hand reached next to you, feeling two tablets. You wash them down with water from the sink. Your cell phone lights up with a text from George

“We’re meeting at Hanns flat, be there in 30,”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The windows were rolled up, trapping the smoke inside. Your eyes were glazed over, barely able to make out Ross’ face in front of you. Watching as Matty took another hit, you made a ‘give it here’ motion at the zoot, prompting him to hand it to you. Rhianna blared through the radio, a far cry from Adams usual taste in music, but no one seemed to care. Even Matty had managed to keep his mouth shut, instead moving his head in time with the music.

Adam was sitting in the driver's seat, as always. He’d never let anyone else drive his girl, not even Ross. He was insanely protective over his car, even if it was an old piece of junk.
George was in the passenger seat, holding a pink, polka dotted ashtray in his hand. The colorful ceramic proved quite the contrast against his dark clothes and messy blonde hair. It was a gift from his older sister, and the only ashtray he ever used.
You were perched in the middle seat, your elbows on the console between Adam and George. Matty sat on your right, and Ross on your left.

“No joke, I once had a bird offer to give me a footjob. Can you imagine that?” Adam spoke loudly, almost too loud. Ross let out a disgusting snort, the mental image of Adam getting a footjob making him properly lose it. You make a face.
“That can't feel good at all, innit? Aren't the soles of feet rough?” you ponder. “Only if you have George's hobbit feet, that is,” Matty said, ducking to avoid yet another lighter being chucked at him. You were going to run out of lighters at this rate.
“I'll show you hobbit feet you fucking cunt,” George retorted, sticking out his tongue like a child.

“I had a girl once who wanted me to properly bite down on her nipples, like hard. Can't imagine how much that would've hurt.” you share. She’d been quite the odd one up until she was in your bed, so you were already expecting some sort of weird kink. Nipple biting was definitely not on that list. Not that you were kink shaming.

George spoke first: “What d’you mean girl? You're telling me you've been with girls?” You raise your eyebrows at him. “Erm, yeah? Didn't I tell you-?” Everyone shook their heads except Matty. You had already told him this story months before, the both of you laughing at your misfortune. Smiling at the fond memory, you meet Ross’ eye.

“We didn't know you were like, proper gay,” he says quietly, not wanting to sound abrasive. You suck in a deep breath before answering. “I'm not proper anything, and besides,” you point at Matty sitting next to you, “This one’s snogged loads of blokes.” A collective “What???” fills the car, with everyone's eyes now on Matty.

“What if I have? It's not my job to notify you of all my sexual endeavors, innit?” Matty looks slightly uncomfortable, giving you a look. You frown at him, and he shakes his head. Slight signs of a smile linger on his face. It's fine he mouths at you, resting his arm on your shoulder.

The three of them talk loudly over each other, with Ross asking some very explicit questions on the mechanics of gay sex.
“How do you even, like, properly shag? It's not like you have anything you can shove into the other girl,” Jesus christ.
Matty taps Ross’ shoulder, bringing the attention to his hands. He brings them up to his mouth, sticking his tongue out between the V-shape his fingers had made. Wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, the whole demonstration makes Ross visibly cringe.

The car suddenly starts. Adam makes the short drive to Carolines, stating that the hotbox was getting to be too much for him. George has a go at his age, calling him an old man. Hann was in fact, about 2 and a half years older than George, and a solid year older than the rest of you. Old man was right.
You had rolled down the window on Mattys side, hoping some fresh air would help Adams driving skills. The erratic swerving had begun to make you sick.

Finally trugding up the stairs to the terrace, Matty says something about it being too fucking cold. Ross says “That's the price of being built like a male Kate Moss,” and Matty nearly shoves him down the stairs.
It is colder than usual, and you had opted for a dark gray zip up, the material hugging you tightly. You were pretty sure it was Mattys. A pair of green wash jeans hung low, revealing the star tattoo on your right hip bone. It was a copy of Bowie's star on the cover of ‘Aladdin Sane’. You had gotten it done by another one of your mates, Rome, who was an aspiring tattoo artist. It looked a bit shit, the lines slightly crooked, but it was yours.

You had convinced George and Ross to carry the sofa from the office onto the terrace. They were the tallest and strongest, and Mattys arms would have snapped like twigs if he tried to carry anything, you said to them. George laughed his octave defying laugh, while Ross let out an annoyed grunt, shoving past you.

Adam was right behind them, carrying a small wooden coffee table. “For you- I know how much you hate sofas,” he says quietly. You called him a softy, but inevitably thanked him for bringing it out. He had his rare sweet moments, and you appreciate them
Once you had all settled, you took out your tobacco and papes, starting to roll your first cigarette of the night. You honestly needed a break from all the weed, because jesus.
Matty let out a groan, taking the piss out of you for bringing all that instead of just buying industrials.
“I know you think you're better than us for rolling, it's quite pretentious.” he sucks in a breath before talking, moving his hands erratically “Don't tell me it ‘tastes better’ because that's simply bollocks, it all tastes the same!”

“Pretentious? Her? That's rich coming from someone who raves on about William Burroughs like anyone knows who is!” Matty looks hurt, and you give Ross a look that says you really don't know who William Burroughs is?

The conversation continued without you, too preoccupied with rolling to add anything. All was well until George decided to open his giant mouth again.
“If you're not fully gay,” he started, “how do we know you're not secretly crushing on any of us?” he raised his eyebrows, looking at you expectantly.
You let out a snort, it slowly morphing into laughter until you look at him, his expression deadly serious.
“You can’t actually mean that?” your voice is slightly hoarse. “For all we know, you could be harboring secret affection for Matty with the amount of times you’ve slept in the same bed.”
Mattys perks up at this, shooting George a glare that could kill a man. He told him???

You don't know what came over you. Maybe it was the weed, maybe you were just groggy from the lingering hangover. You lick the cig closed, setting down next to the others. Uncrossing your legs, you get up and walk towards Matty. You can see the grin plastered onto his face, and he is definitely not sober.
You stumbled over Adam's foot, kicking it out of the way. Ross moved away from Matty, giving you some space.

The terrace was dark, but the moonlight illuminated some of Mattys features. Specifically, his eyes. They seemed to glow, following your every step toward him. I'll show you secret affection you thought to yourself when your hand made contact with Mattys face. The stubble on his chin scratched your fingers. He never could grow a beard, and the faint shadow was as long as it would get.
He sat with his legs spread, skin peaking out through the single rip in his jeans. His arms rested on the sofas back, splaying out to the side. He wore a black v-line jumper, the knit of it almost see-through.

The makeup from the previous day was still smudged on his face, giving him a rockstar-esque look. The eyeshadow framed his eyes, glittering in the faint light. Your hands cupped his face, lightly stroking his jaw. The grin had been wiped off his face the moment you had settled between his legs, kneeling on the edge of the sofa.

You didn't think, just moved, your lips smashing against each other. It seemed to take Matty by surprise, and it even took him a second before he kissed you back. One thing nagged at you. Why did you like it?

There was no time to think when you heard George wolf whistle at the both of you.
You want a show, I'll give you a show you thought, slipping in your tongue and taking over the kiss. He seemed into it, but then again, Matty would fuck anything with a pulse. You smile against his mouth at the thought. It suddenly felt hot, even though you were outside. His hand snaked its way into your hair, tugging slightly. This didn't feel platonic. Was it?

“Alright, alright, we didn't sign up for a porno,” Ross says, his hand covering his mouth. You were the one who broke the kiss. Matty let out a soft groan when you parted, loud enough for only you to hear. His eyes pierced yours, and you moved to get off of him.
Your heart thrummed against your ribcage, and you felt dizzy. What the fuck?
You wiped your mouth, your lipgloss having smeared all over your face. Wiping the back of your sticky hand against the sofa, you turned and walked back to your spot on the table.

“See! Absolutely no ‘secret affection’ as George so kindly put it.” you say to the group, going back to your pile of fags, taking one and lighting it. If you had looked at Matty instead of being preoccupied with Hanns bickering about the prissy new manager, you would have noticed a faint shade of red caressing his cheeks. He felt around for his own cigarettes, and took out a pack of parliaments. Spotting the lighter next to you, he reached for it, lighting the cig as he inhaled the smoke eagerly.

It was already half two when the five of you finally piled back into Hanns car. The prominent stench of weed made you scrunch up your nose. You decide to light a cigarette in the car despite various protests and threats to your life if you even dared to ash onto the leather seats. Switching seats with Matty, you ash out the window instead, resting your head against the rim of the car.

Ross and George were having yet another meaningless debate on whether mixing ketchup and mayo was a cardinal sin or totally acceptable. Every other word was an insult, and you knew they would never come to an agreement, ever.

You had already established that you’d be sleeping over at Mattys, saving Adam time and petrol not having to drive both of you home separately. Denise and Tim were out on a press tour, so he had the house to himself.
His room was dark, the curtains drawn shut. If you knew Matty, you knew he hated the big light with a burning passion. Instead, a small lamp was turned on in the corner, illuminating the various posters that littered his wall. Band posters, prints, tapestries, the occasional quote. Everything screamed Matty

His room was filled with so much music. CD’s, vinyls, even the odd cassette tape. His purple record player sat on top of a dresser next to his desk, surrounded by various small trinkets of his. It was his prized possession, a gift from his mother for his 14th birthday.

You had already helped yourself to a cola from his fridge downstair. His house was huge, way bigger than your own. Your parents weren't actors, after all. The walls of his room were stained towards the corners, just another side effect of Mattys near constant chain smoking. His bed was big, and you both fit comfortably on it. The wardrobe next to it had a pile of your own clothes in it, but none to sleep in. Your eyes dart around the room looking for one of his to wear, landing on his bright pink durex t-shirt. He had worn it once to school, promptly getting kicked out of literature class by a very conservative Mrs. Sexton.

Soft music was playing in the background as you unloaded your bag onto Matty’s insanely cluttered desk. Out came multiple pens, makeup, not one, not two, but three lighters, and finally, makeup wipes.
You sat on the ground in front of his full length mirror, wiping at your eyes and face. Matty was making the bed, giving the both of you each your own duvet, a must after too many fights over the blanket. You weren't a peaceful sleeper, constantly tossing and turning, occasionally even kicking Matty in the back.

Washing your face, you hear the bathroom door click open. Matty went and sat on the closed toilet lid next to you.
“Hand me my toothbrush, will you? And some toothpaste.” he asked, stretching his hand out. You do, even wetting the toothbrush for him.
He sat there, brushing his teeth and flipping through a recent issue of playboy while you put moisturizer on, and then a serum.

“I dont get how you can be arsed to put all that shit on your face, it takes way too long,” his comment makes you roll your eyes at him in the reflection.
“Not everyone is naturally blessed with clear skin like you, people like me have to put effort into their appearance, knobhead.” A wave of insecurity hits you as you inspect the acne on your face.

You had been a chronic face picker in your early teenage years, and the consequences of that were gnarly acne scars covering most of your face. They were not prominent, but they were there.
Matty was fortunate enough to have had maybe three zits ever, his clear skin the stuff of dreams.

Matty watches you pick yourself apart in the mirror. He hated when you did that. It made his heart ache in his chest. He wished you could see what he saw. What did he see?

“You’re quite beautiful, really,” he says, making eye contact with you through the mirror. You’re taken aback, not quite sure how to respond. You open your mouth to speak.
“Oh bugger off,” you say, your voice breathy and annoyed. You didn't want to sound annoyed, it just came out that way.

Matty raises both his hands in defeat, and spits the toothpaste into the toilet bowl, flushing. The hairbands sitting on the bathroom counter eventually end up in your hair, holding together two braids on either side of your face. You stare at the mirror one more time, examining yourself. The pink fabric of your (well, Mattys) shirt clung to you like it did Matty. Taking off your bra, you go back into his room. He had changed into a loose Kiss t-shirt and black boxers. The light of the corner lamp helped you find your phone, sitting on the nightstand next to you.

The atmosphere was calm, calm enough that you’d almost forgotten about the kiss. Almost.
Matty reached over to turn the lamp off, lighting a candle for light. Cinnamon.
“You know it's dangerous to sleep with candles lit? We could catch on fire and die,” Matty had rolled over on his side, now facing you. A grin spread onto his face.
“If it kept me from ever seeing Hanns ugly mug ever again, i’d gladly let cinnamon spice scented flames burn me to death,”
You giggle at his words. Poor Adam, always taking the worst of Mattys jokes, if you could even call them that. Accepting his decision to keep the candle lit, you pull the blanket over your shoulders. Your eyes shut and you can feel butterflies in your stomach. Butterflies, really? Jesus fucking christ.
You're scared to open your eyes, scared to even look at Matty. Maybe it was a mistake. He's your best mate. That kiss didn't mean anything, especially not to him.

A million thoughts race through your head, and you shove them into a small corner of your mind. Ignore ignore ignore, it didn't mean anything. He's just some wanker who picked you up at a bus stop three years ago and somehow became your best mate. He's just some guy you share a bed with sometimes. He's just some guy who lights your spliffs for you. He's just some guy who you kissed on a terrace overlooking the city.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

The smell of fresh cut grass permeated the air. You were walking down the beaten pavement path, moss covering most of it, making it quite slippery. For the first time in a long time, you were completely sober.

It had been well over two weeks since the kiss, not having addressed it. There was no need to, since it clearly meant nothing to both of you. It was early march, and you had expected the rain to lay off for a bit. The weather forecast that morning laughed in your face, predicting another week of straight rain. Had that made you think, even for a second ‘hey, maybe it’d be a good idea to bring a coat?’ Of course not.

“What do you think of Hann’s new girl?” Mattys voice broke your train of thought. “She's fit, isn't she? Maybe even too fit for the old man,” he lets out a disgusting cough, and you tell him that maybe it's a sign he should quit smoking.

“Don't be a dickhead, Adams plenty attractive,” you answer, nudging him with your elbow. Matty scoffs as a way to say: Hann? Attractive? Our mate, Adam Hann? You nod, not letting Adam be the butt of yet another one of Mattys deprecating jokes.

“Olivia’s nice, even if she was a total cunt to George,” His eyes lit up at your statement, nodding erratically. “Right?? What was even her problem with him? She was fine with the rest of us, even you, given that you're a girl. Something about him must’ve fucked her off or something.” It's true, she was a total sweetheart to you, even asking where your lipgloss was from.

She was a sight for sore eyes, bleach blonde, waist length hair draping over her shoulders. Blue eyes like the ocean, even if you get lost in them. Ross was convinced she was some sort of call girl, until Adam had shown him the text threads from the dating site they had met on.

You offer him a shrug. The night's events played out in your mind. You had all met at a bar near Adam and Ross’ flat. From the start, she was facing away from George, avoiding looking at him like it was going to kill her if she did. George tried to talk to her, even complimented her shoes (the shoes were ugly), but to no avail. She just wouldn't acknowledge him. He eventually gave up, nursing his drink while making conversation with a very confused Ross.

You continued walking arm in arm, ‘Old Yellow Bricks’ by the Arctic Monkeys blaring through your headphones. It was a miracle neither of you had extensive hearing loss.

All was well, until you felt the first rain drops hit your bare shoulders. You turn to Matty to complain, but you see a sly smile already on his face.

“I hate to tell you ‘told you so’ but-,” You didn't let him finish.

“Please don't do this to me, I'm having a moment of weakness!” you shiver dramatically. The wind wasn't helping your little predicament. You had a tank top on, not very ideal for the harsh British rain that was about to come pouring down.

“Now, be a gentleman and give me your coat.” Matty shakes his head, tugging the coat over himself. You scoff at him.

“You can steal my weed and talk about ‘girls don't roll their own spliffs’ but you wont give me your coat?? Fucking tosser, you are.” You mime his thick northern accent, your fingers forming quotation marks in the air.

“Oh fuck right off! Y’know Hann’s the only one who does that-'' you narrow your eyes at him, cocking your head to the left, “Fine, I said it once. And besides, I'm cold too!”

You pout at him, giving him your best puppy dog eyes. He pretends to think about it, but inevitably shakes his head once again. ‘Fuck you’ you think.

It's not until the rain starts proper pouring down on the two of you that Matty makes you an offer.

“Share the coat? You've officially lost the plot, mate.” You laugh in his face. How would you even fit?? Then again, the coat was insanely big, sized up at least two or three sizes. You could theoretically squeeze into it. Matty and his ‘fashion’ choices.

Deciding to try, Matty takes his right arm out of the coat, letting you into it. It was a tight fit, and it didn't close, but it worked. Your left arm rested on Mattys waist, and his right one rested on yours. He gave your side a light squeeze, laughing at you when you jump.

You felt a familiar warmth at the contact. ‘Stop it’ you thought to yourself. Your attention was quickly pulled to the car driving past. In the pouring rain, a yellow taxi cab had hit a puddle next to the edge of the pavement, dousing you in muddy rainwater.

Matty cursed the car out, letting out a terrifying shriek. Jesus.

He tried to brush as much of the water off as he could, but it was no use.

Watching him struggle made you crack a smile. It was endearing almost, seeing him curse at literal water.

The walk back to Mattys place was rudely interrupted by him booking it down the street halfway home, ripping you out of the confines of the jacket. The rain had let up, so you chased after him. Your boots splashed against the water on the ground, the wind blowing against you. Matty almost tripped on a rogue piece of pavement, making him fall back.

His feeble attempts at getting his keys into the lock before you got to him proved useless. You were fast.

Your head hurts from the running, so you let his bolting away from you slide, as long as he made you a cuppa as an apology. He was mental about his tea, having an entire cupboard dedicated to organizing and storing it.

“You should be on an episode of my strange addiction,” you comment.

Matty made tea like it was his profession, perfectly measuring the water-to-teabag ratio to a T (pun intended). You loved sugar, and you watched him put 3 cubes into yours. He took his with a splash of milk, gross.

The warm liquid soothes the sore throat you knew you’d have tomorrow. Your nose was already clogging up from all the time spent in the rain, trying to get home as soon as possible

“So, am I forgiven?” Matty looks at you from over the top of his red foo fighters mug. Only he would have a red foo fighters mug. You smile and nod at him as he reaches for the remote.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

“I swear to fucking god Rome, if you fuck this up, I will rip your balls off and have that be my jewelry.” You say through gritted teeth.

You were currently draped across your mate Rome’s sofa. That same Rome who did your crooked aladdin sane tattoo, was now apparently a professional body piercer. But hey, who could turn down a free piercing? Spoiler alert: you probably should have.

The needle tickled your belly button, and you could feel your heart racketing in your chest. And not in a good way. ‘Matty was the good way.’

What the fuck? You pushed the thought away quickly.

You had plenty of piercings in your ears, 5 or so on each side, but this was your first body piercing. I was also your first one done by Rome, tattoo expert and piercer extraordinaire, allegedly.

Matty was sat on the glass coffee table across from the leather sofa, eyeing the needle even more intensely than you were.

A cold disinfectant wipe touched your stomach, making you shudder. Rome said it wouldn't hurt much, but you didn't trust a word that came out of his mouth. He had also told you the tattoo on your hip bone wouldn't hurt a lot, and that was a blatant lie. It was a piercing pain in your hip for about 4 hours straight, so not exactly pain free.

“Just breathe, it’ll be over in a second.” you hear Rome's voice, slightly distorted. The needle pierces your skin. It feels hot, and you can feel your hand squeezing Mattys. The jewelry slipping in causes another flash of hot pain to sear through you. Now it's Mattys voice whispering comforting words into your ear. His presence helps, acting as a sort of psychological painkiller.

Examining your new accessory in the mirror, you let out a content sigh. The green gemstone glimmers in the light, complimenting the red and green of your tattoo. The light of the bathroom blinded you, and you make a mental to let Rome know his lightbulb was brighter than the fucking sun.

Matty was waiting for you in the living room, flicking through channels on the telly. He nods when his eyes meet yours, signaling it was time to go.

The two of you had made it a habit to walk everywhere, neither having enough money to pay for bus or train tickets. The walks had become a constant, the feeling of Mattys coat brushing up against your shoulder was routine.

Sharing headphones once again, today's track was AC/DC’s ‘Back In Black’. Matty wasn't a big fan of AC/DC but that didn't matter, he still let you put it on, even though it had been his turn.

That's something you’d noticed. He wasn't as prissy about the music anymore, simply humming in response to your music choice, even if it was the worst pop trash he had ever heard. Something felt off, but you couldn't quite put your finger on it. It didn't matter much at the time, it just meant you had more opportunity to listen to whatever you pleased.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The Sound was a pub of sorts. Exactly the type of pub you would find someone like Matty in.

Extravagant, loud, and full of life and most importantly, booze. The neon signs all littering the concrete wall gave you a headache.

He had brought everyone here, including Hann’s girlfriend, for a round of drinks.

The queue up until the door had been well stressful, seeing as both you and George were underage. Most pubs let you in without a hitch, but this one was new.

Thankfully, the bouncer didn't even look twice at the both of you, simply waving you through. He did press hand to Adam's chest, and asked him of all people for his I.D. You tried not to giggle as Hann desperately searched his pockets for his wallet. Olivia stood next to him, looking unimpressed.

Matty was already inside, ordering everyone drinks. He might fail his GCSEs, but for some reason, he had everyone's drink order down by heart. Even Olivias. You wonder where he had gotten that information from.

The bass of the music thrummed through your veins, the disco-esque lights flashing all around you. It was full, the poor bartenders overwhelmed with about sixteen people at once shouting their various drink orders at them. You took a sip of your drink, and made your way to the semi-crowded dance floor. Spotting Adam snogging his girl in the corner, you roll your eyes at the sight.

George and Ross were off to the side, doing shots with a bridal party of all people. The maid of honor was throwing herself at Ross, and he attempted to fend her off, going on about ‘the missus waiting for him at home’. That sure didn't stop her.

But you couldn't, for the life of you, find Matty. You hated this about him. He just disappeared and it took ages to find him again, and it didn't help that everyone else was either snogging their girlfriend or getting hammered with an entire wedding. Your eyes scan the crowd, and you finally see him.

Him and a girl.

His hair was up in a half up half down sort of style, blonde strands framing his face perfectly. His eyes were lined with blue liner, complimenting the blue nail polish on his fingers. The fingers on the hands that were touching some random girl's arm. A pretty girl's arm.

She was everything in vogue. Absolutely gorgeous black hair fell over her shoulder, framing her face perfectly. A red dress clung to her body, her legs looking a mile long. She was the beauty standard.

You felt jealousy bubble up inside of you, stopping yourself before you could properly feel it.

‘It's Matty’ you thought to yourself ‘he does this all the time, get your shit together’ A deep breath managed to steady you. It wasn't long before he saw you through the crowd of people, a smile spreading into his face when he did. He said something to the girl. The look on his face seemed apologetic. She nodded in understanding, flashing him a smile as he turned around to make his way to you. Did he reject her?

“All this neon is doing my head in,” you gesture at your surroundings, ”can we go outside for a bit?” Matty agrees, commenting on the volume of the music. For some reason, you can't find Adam, and you assume he's off shagging his girlfriend in a bathroom stall somewhere.

The warm air hits you as you step out the back entrance, Matty following close behind. You wedge your wallet in between the door to keep it from locking you out. A lesson learned the hard way. The brick of the wall dug into your back, you wince at the roughness of it.

You pulled out your cigarettes, feeling around for your lighter. An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, but Matty was already way ahead of you. He held his lighter up to the cig between your lips. You notice two things. One, his hands are shaking, and two, it's the lighter. That same lighter he had on his the day you met.

Why were his hands shaking? Why did he still have it? Was it even the same one? You check the side of it and sure enough, it had his initials scrawled on it in white ink. You're snapped out of your thoughts when the nicotine hits your system. It calms down your thinking, and you forget about it. It feels like you're forgetting a lot these days.

“Why did you reject her? She was really pretty.” you ask, your eyes not meeting his, instead focusing on the glowing billboard in the distance. Matty frowned at you.

“Yeah, she was, but you know id rather not fuck someone i dont know.” he takes a deep drag of his cigarette. “You know I'm not really like that.”

Matty was a performer, he performed in every aspect in his life. So did you, in a way. With fake displays of confidence and that fucking kiss, you put on a sort of show. So did Matty, honing a distinct air of nonchalance, acting unbothered by everything and everyone.

Those performances were let down when you were around each other. You got to see a side of Matty no one else really saw, not even George, who he had known since he was about 14. He was vulnerable with you, soft even. In turn, he saw your insecurities. Insecurities that ran deep through your bones. Insecurities that were the very essence of your being.

You smoke the rest of your cigarette in silence, leaning against the wall. A gust of wind made you shiver, goosebumps forming on your skin.

The heel of your boot stubs out the butt of your cigarette, and you turn to go back inside. Mattys hand on your arm stopped you, and you felt your breath hitch at the contact.

“Ross just messaged me,” he read the text out loud, the faint blue light illuminating his face. “Adams gone back home to shag Olivia. He said to fuck off until at least 2, and to leave him alone.”

You stare at him for a second before you answer, fuming at Adam for leaving you stranded like that. “Where are we meant to go then? Fucking tosser, leaving us like that” Matty just shrugs, and starts walking around the building to the main entrance. You follow him.

Ross and George are at the front, and George has a tiara on his head. Matty immediately questions his choice of headwear, but he just brushes him off, saying it was a gift from the bride. Her name was Ashley, apparently. Not that it mattered, how the fuck were you gonna get home?

All your questions were answered when George spoke: “We could go to mine? I have a pretty big shed in my garden,” Matty makes a face at the thought of sleeping in someone's garden shed, but then again, it was better than being homeless for the next eight or so hours.

“We could all crash there, it even has a mattress in it.”

The four of you decide to walk the 45 minutes to Georges house, seeing as there werent any busses going in that direction at 11 o’clock at fucking night. Fuck Adam.

George fumbled with the key to shed for a solid minute before finally getting it open, revealing the interior.

It was littered with boxes stacked on top of various pieces of furniture. You spot an old mattress tucked up against the wall. It looks dirty, and you wonder if sleeping on the floor might prove more hygienic than laying your face on that.

You get to work, moving boxes out of the way to reveal a red leather couch, dusty and grimy from years of storage, and a giant green sofa chair. You lugged your bag onto the chair, calling dibs. Ross groaned, sitting down on the mattress on the floor. It at least came with a blanket (if you could call a duvet without a sheet a blanket).

Matty had gone with the sofa, and was now brushing as much dust off as best as he could, trying to get it somewhat clean. Neither one of you had any clothes to sleep in, so you opted for just sleeping in your current clothes. You hadn’t thought to bring makeup wipes, so you knew you’d be dealing with a gnarly breakout in the morning. That didn't matter to you at this point, you just wanted to pass out on the chair. You put your hair up in a ponytail, sighing as you for a surface to put your cellphone on. Matty was stood behind you, shuffling around the sofa, trying to find a place for his giant coat.

Everyone was getting ready to conk out, and George had already gone back to his house. He, of course, had a warm and comfortable bed waiting for him inside a heated house.

You watched Matty as he took his shirt off, your eyes lingering for a beat longer than what was considered ‘platonic’. He had a tattoo that mirrored yours on his left hip bone. “We are kings” it read. You’d laughed at him when he showed it to you, deeming it awfully cheesy with a rose being the backdrop for the words. But nevertheless, he ignored your words. As long as he liked it, you told him.

He had various other small, mostly meaningless tattoos littering his skin. He had let Rome practice a lot on his legs, which proved to be a mistake, given those god-awful tattoos were now going to be stuck on his body forever. It didn't seem to bother him though. He was seemingly happy just helping a friend, even if he did now have a hideous cross tattoo on his left calf.

You had only one tattoo, the Aladdin Sane one, but you were planning on getting more the moment you could afford to not have to go to Rome for it.

‘never again’ you thought.

Matty had settled onto the sofa, and was now reading one of the many books that were stacked in piles in the corners of the shed. He had picked up Joan Didions ‘Slouching toward Bethlehem", scanning the pages intently.

You don't know at what point you fell asleep, but you were woken up by a loud crashing noise. You shoot up, greeted by a stabbing pain in your upper back and shoulder. Fuckkkkk.

The chair had made you fall asleep in a god-awful position, your neck hanging off the edge of it. The source of the noise was, of course, Matty knocking over the once source of light: A metal lamp that was conveniently placed right in the middle of the tiny shed.

He cursed at the lamp, and then at George for deciding to put it there. George couldn’t hear him, since he was comfortably sleeping in his own bed inside of the house. Fuck. him.

Matty looks at you, apologizing for waking you up. Ross was nowhere to be seen, and you assume he’d already left.

Your hand reaches for your back, trying to soothe the pain by rubbing it. It didn't help, and you lay back in defeat.

“What's got you so prissy this morning?” Matty asks, cocking an eyebrow. You shoot him a glare, not in the mood for his comments.

“It’s all Adam's fault! If he hadnt acted like a fucking dickhead and left us stranded just to shag Olivia, I would’ve fallen asleep in my own bed, and not some dusty chair in a shed! A fucking shed!” You were frustrated to say the least, your hands moving erratically around you, showcasing said frustration. “My back is killing me, I cant move, and Ross has fucked off god knows where.” You feel tears well up in your eyes, too embarrassed to look at Matty.

You were tired and in pain. All because Hann couldn't keep his dick in his pants. You mentally flip him off.

“I could give you a massage, if you want,” Matty offered, seeing how the whole night had affected you. “And you're right, Hann’s a total cunt for doing that.” He added, making you break out into a smile at his words. He had that effect on you. You calmed down

He motioned for you to sit down on the floor in front of the leather sofa, and you did. You took off your shirt, feeling a sudden pang of insecurity run through you. You had been half naked in front of Matty loads of times, so why was this different?

The sudden pressure of Mattys rough hands on your shoulder blade made you groan, relieving some of the tightness in your back.

“Thanks mate, you're a legend.” Matty chuckles at your words, humming in response. He goes on for about 10 minutes, All is going great, and your back feels better. That is, until Ross comes rushing through the door. He freezes when he sees you in your bra, shielding his eyes and spinning around to face the door.

“Fuckin hell, why are you naked? And why are Mattys hands on you?” Ross borderline shouts, his voice seeming panicked.

“Jesus Ross, stop acting like I'm the first half naked girl you've seen in your life,” you start, Mattys laugh interrupting you. “You can turn around, Matty’s just giving me a massage.”

He does turn around, avoiding looking at you. You roll your eyes. Unbelievable.

He grabs his jacket, and leaves as quickly as he came. Matty taps your shoulder, signaling you to get up. You put your shirt back on, and grab your bag from the pile of boxes. Your back still aches, but the massage did help. You tell him as much.

“It's no thing, all good,” He mutters, closing the door of the shed behind him. You now have to figure out how to get ‘round the side of the house without George’s parents seeing you. How would he explain that? “Oh yeah, forgot to tell you, three people slept in the shed last night. Tea?”

Nevertheless, you manage to get out unnoticed, setting off home. The walk was incredibly long, stopping at a wetherspoons along the way to have a piss. It took some bickering with the barista to let you use the bathroom even though you weren't customers. It ended with Matty giving her his number, promising to take her out as a thank you. That same jealousy bubbled up inside of you as he handed her the piece of paper with a wink.

It didn't matter, you decided. It was fluke, you were just tired and angry at Adam for being a massive fucking cunt and leaving you. You swore you’d kill him when you saw him next.

By the time you made it home, it was almost 8:30. Hoping and praying your mother hadn't woken up yet, you slid the window open. Nothing. She was asleep.

Matty helped you up, grabbing you by the sides. His hands lingered for a second too long, squeezing the flesh of your hips. You swore you could see a faint blush spread across his face. No. You were imagining it. He was just red from lifting you. Definitely.

He held out his arms, enveloping you in a warm hug goodbye. You felt like crying. You really didn't want him to leave. The hug lasted what seemed like forever, your hands stroking his back. He somehow sensed this, and held you even tighter.

“I'll pick you up at half ten, alright? Just us.” you liked the sound of that, nodding your head in agreement. “No Adam or Ross to fuck us off, we’ll get hammered and walk around. That sound good?” You nod again, brushing some of his hair out of his face.

This is the first time in a while you'd gotten to properly look at him. You observed his features. Eye bags caressed the skin under his eyes, making him look tired. He was still beautiful, his pale skin glowing in the light of the morning. Brown eyes glazed over and full of sleep pierced yours. You felt like he was looking into your soul. He saw you.

He pulled away, your hand lingering on his arm before returning to your side. He turned around to leave, and every fiber of you wanted to shout after him to stay. You opened your mouth to speak, but no sound came out. Defeated, you turned around and hopped off the window sill and into your bedroom.

Your bed was calling your name, and you flopped onto it, not bothering to change. You desperately needed a shower, but your body would not move. Sleep took over your body as you settled into the cold sheets of your bed.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the first time in your life, Matty was drunker than you were. Stumbling down the road, cursing at cars driving past for no apparent reason. The half a bottle of vodka already in his system was being washed down by a bottle of red wine, currently sloshing onto his shirt. You weren't completely sober either, but you’re pretty sure you’d never seen Matty this wrecked. Ever.

“I need a piss,” Matty announces, searching your surroundings for the nearest gas station. You weren't quite certain where you were, the darkness of the cloudy night obstructed your view.

You were walking on the side of some highway or other, seeing as there was barely a sliver of pavement to keep you from getting hit by a car. The honking finally made sense.

Matty spots a gas station in the distance, and takes off running down the street in its direction. A drunk Matty was definitely faster than a sober one, you take note, hauling ass after him.

By the time you’d made it inside, Matty was already throwing himself at a traumatized looking gas station attendant, basically climbing over the counter to get to her.

You grab him by the shirt, tugging him backwards. Apologizing profusely, you ask where the bathroom is. The blonde girl points timidly to the sign hanging above a hallway off to the side, labeled ‘Unisex Toilet’. You thank her, before realizing Matty had once again escaped your line of sight and was now yelling at the drink cooler.

“It's absolutely mad, the amount of drinks they offer! That can't be good for the environment!” He slurs his words, making meaningful eye contact with a can of cherry cola.

“Climate change is a real thing you know, don't let the people fool y-” you cut him off, apologizing to the now even more terrified worker, ushering him towards the loo.

“Fuckin hell, what did you do that for?? I was just inquiring on the importance of-” his expression changed drastically “fuckfuckfuck get out my way!” you knew that look. Matty was about to hurl all over you if you didnt move now.

He bolted to the nearest stall, dropping to his knees as the copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed made its reappearance in the toilet bowl. Your hands moved to get his hair out of his face. You whisper small ‘oh god’s whilst stroking his hair, knowing throwing vodka up couldn't be pleasant. You weren't sober in the slightest, but you had to pull yourself together to help hi.

Matty had done this for you multiple times, holding your hair whilst talking you through it.

“Jesus Matty, you have got to pace yourself,” you say, your voice having a slightly serious tinge to it. He genuinely worried you.

“Oh fuck off mate, leave me alone.” he spat, the tone of this voice sending a chill down your spine. He had never, in your three years of friendship, spoken to you like that. You gripped his hair tighter, letting out an annoyed sigh, not knowing how to react. He was wasted, but he had been wasted before. Never like this.

“Are you deaf?? I said fuck off!” His words dripped with venom, his voice amplified in the confines of the bathroom. Your eyes widen in shock, letting go of his hair. It falls into his face, obscuring it.

The bathroom stills when he finally stops retching, having emptied the contents of his stomach fully. Time seemed to slow for both you and him, making the room spin.

Suddenly, you hear sobs coming from beneath you. Matty was crying. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckkkkk. What do you do? Comfort him? Leave him alone to cry it out? Definitely not.

You drop down to your knees, trying to get a look at his face. Vomit covered the edges of his mouth, spit dripping down into the toilet. Everything reeked of cheap vodka and cigarettes, but you blocked out the smell.

“Please dont look at me..” you hear, his voice shaking as he brings a hand up to wipe his mouth clean. It gets on his sleeve, but he doesn't seem to care. Your hand finds its way into his hair, massaging his scalp in that way he likes. A whimper leaves his mouth, catching you off guard. Another sob. Tears drip down his face, and he finally turns around to face you.

“Christ Matty, what's gone wrong with you?” you ask, your voice breathy, the alcohol making you hazy. He just shakes his head, bringing his knees up to his chest. His eyes are glued to the floor, too scared to look at you.

“Dont know whats wrong with me,” he starts, finally looking up. He doesn't look you in the eye, instead looking behind you. Past you. “Maybe I had too much to drink, I dunno.” You crack a smile. No shit he had too much to drink.

“Lay off the vodka for a bit, it makes you mad. You almost jumped the poor girl behind the counter.” you laugh, trying to lighten the mood a bit, still too drunk to be put down by Mattys crisis.

“I don't want to get up, I feel so heavy” he slurs, obviously still drunk. “Nah, you know we need to leave, or else they’ll kick us out for trespassing or something. We’ve been in here ‘bout an hour already.” You look at an imaginary watch on your wrist, making him giggle.

His eyes are half closed as he watches you get up from your spot next to him. You use the stall walls for balance, not wanting to come crashing down. Extending a hand to Matty, he pulls himself up with you. The both of you stumble outside of the stall, and you take a look at yourself in the mirror. Jesus, both of you look like you've been through hell.

Your makeup smeared down your face, your lipgloss long gone. Mattys hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction imaginable. There was vomit on his shirt and chin, trailing down his neck. You look at his reflection in disgust, and tell him as much.

He takes his coat off, along with his shirt. He runs his face under cold water, washing any vomit off of it. He stared at himself, his eyes empty. Your voice made him look at you.

“Let's not overdo it like this again, it proper sucked” you knew you sounded like you were joking, but you couldn't be more serious. “I'm still a bit drunk, and I think you are too. Food?”

He nods at you, and takes your bag out of your hands, stuffing his tshirt into it. Putting his coat back on, you can see the skin of his chest peek out from underneath it. You look away, taking the bag back from him. As you emerge out of the loo, you nod in the direction of the girl behind the counter. Matty announces he's run out of cigarettes, and goes to buy more. The girl hands him a pack of parliaments, and he slides a tenner over to her, telling her to keep the change.

The air outside is cool, colder than inside the bathroom. The smell of petrol fills your nostrils and you breathe. “Maccies?” He asks, pointing to the sign across the road. You smile, crossing the road together, desperately needing some grease in your system.

He places both your orders for you, taking the number and sitting down. Your food arrives, looking as good as mcdonalds at 1 in the morning can look. You take a bite out of your food, and reach for your shared fries. Mattys hand is already there, and your fingers brush against each other

You pull your hand back and it feels as if you've been shocked by something. Matty seems as unbothered as ever, munching away at his chicken burger (yes, chicken). You stare at him until he looks up at you, your eyes quickly redirecting to your own food. Everything feels weird. Breathing feels hard as your heart pounds in your chest

You're just drunk, stop it.

“What do you wanna do after?” He says, licking the grease off of his fingers. You can still see his chest, the pale skin a stark contrast to the dark, fluffy material of his coat. His hair was down, covering a large chunk of his face, he desperately needed to cut it. You tell him.

“Cut it for me then, as a payment for me coloring yours,” You agree, smiling at the thought.

“I can't exactly go home, my house is too far away and i can't be arsed to pay for a taxi at this hour.” he adds to his previous statement, turning his pockets inside out, showing his lack of funds. Typical Matty, running out of money at the worst possible moment. You had used the last of your cash to pay for your food, leaving about 6 quid in your wallet.

“What about Carolines? That's not far from here.” you suggest, finishing off the last of the fries.

Matty sipped on his cola, calculating the distance, before agreeing and getting up to leave. You take your bag, following closely behind him. Hooking his arm in with yours, you walk along the highway together, flipping off the cars that honked at you. The clouds had cleared, showing the myriad of stars glowing in the sky. You stopped for a second, admiring their beauty before Matty pulled you along. He was never one for admiring nature, always a city boy at heart.

The walk was calm, with Matty walking at your pace, instead of you at his. He hummed the melody to some radiohead. This was the first walk together you had taken in silence. Your boots clicked against the pavement, the sound almost deafening.

Arriving at Carolines, the steps up to the terrace seemed longer than ever. The sofa was still there, though it had been moved, presumably by Ross, closer to the railing. The stars were clear as ever, illuminating Mattys face in a soft blue light. The city below was quiet, most of the lights in the buildings having been turned off.

You steal a glance at Mattys wristwatch. 2:53am. Was it already that late?

You catch him staring at you, his eyes lingering. You felt naked, exposed, despite being more covered up than he was. Mattys gaze didn't let up, so you decided to stare back. Your eyes lock, and you immediately sober up.

“D’you have any weed on you? I fancy a smoke,” he asked, his eyes flicking between yours and your bag. You did, in fact, have a pre rolled spliff in your makeup bag. By the time you’d taken it out, Matty had already taken his lighter out of his jeans pocket. That fucking lighter.

He hands it to you, and you cock your head at him.

“So you don't go begging for my coat again,” he grins, pressing the plastic into your hand. The way he articulated the word begging made you feel warm, flush almost. A blush spread on your cheeks, you could feel it. Matty either didn't notice, or just plain ignored it. Both options made you nervous.

You light the spliff, rotating it to get an even burn. Passing it to Matty, you let him take the first hit. He does, his expression immediately changing to a more relaxed one. ‘He looks fucked out’ you think, observing the way his eyes drooped half closed. His hair fell into his face as he laid down onto your lap, letting his head rest on your thighs.

You take a drag, ashing onto the floor. The ash dwindles on the floor for a second, before going out completely. The two of you take in the glow of the city, slightly obscured by the dark gray railing, but beautiful nonetheless.

“Do you ever feel lost?” The words slip out before you can stop them. Matty moves in your lap, turning so that he could look at you from below. His expression is unreadable. Neutral. It scares you.

“Sometimes, yeah..” his voice is soft, raspy from the smoke. He passes the spliff back to you before speaking further. “But isn't that part of it? The human experience? Feeling lost, I mean.” you can see him picking at his nails, the skin beginning to bleed. His neutral expression is replaced by something else. Worry? Anxiety?

Matty was prone to panic attacks. They didn’t happen often, but they happened. One particular time was in a club downtown. It was Saturday night, and the place was packed to the brim. His hand grabbed yours and the look in his eyes was nothing short of terrified. His breathing was irregular, and you knew he needed to get out, now.

That was one of the first times it happened, but it wasn't the last. You quickly learned how to deal with them. He, like you, never, ever wanted to talk about it immediately after the fact. You knew they happened when he felt trapped. In crowded spaces, in high stress situations. His hand would reach for yours as if it were the anchor to reality.

His hand reached for yours, the coldness of his making you jump slightly. Your heart was beating so fast I couldn't see straight. His eyes met yours, searching for something. Something.

What was that something? What did he want? He squeezed your fingers, playing with the rings on your index and ring. Twisting and turning and taking them off and putting them back on. The feeling made you dizzy.

You stayed like that, his head in your lap until the first signs of dawn hit your skin. The orange glow of the sun makes his eyes appear brighter, his hair looks lighter than it actually was. The blonde highlights were a good idea. This made him appear his age. You were just two kids

Kids on a terrace, watching the sun rise slowly over the city.

Not daring to move, you let yourself relax on the couch. You're tired, you haven't slept all night and you could feel the hangover start to spread its way through your body. You weren't completely present.

You convince yourself the faint “I love you,” you heard just before you drifted off the sleep was a trick of your mind.

What else could it be?

Chapter Text

Picture a scene: flashing lights all around you, colors blinding as they move through the room, seemingly liquid. Music pounding in your head, almost as if it was trying to force its way into your body. People sweating, dancing up against strangers. You feel alive.

Matty dances next to you, throwing his hands up into the air. You can hear screams as the music changes, now playing Britney Spears’ ‘Toxic’. He wouldn't admit it if you held a gun to his head, but he loves this song. Your hips sway to the beat of the song, and you can feel arms on your waist. It's not Matty. The fuck?

You didn't know this guy, but his hands were grabbing at you roughly like you were supposed to. His grin disgusted you. (Not so) politely shoving him off, you dance toward Matty, tapping his shoulder three separate times. That was code for ‘bathroom, now’. He nods, taking your hand and leading you towards the edge of the crowd. The sea of people thins out as you finally spot the glowing sign for the loo.

“You alright?” He asks as you enter the bathroom. The walls were covered in graffiti, stickers, and the occasional phone number. There wasn't the classic smell of piss and sweat, which is why you liked Sound. It was fairly clean. The sinks were made of metal, and so was everything else. The lights were dim, and the mirrors dirty, lipstick stains adorning the edges. You can hear the faint noise of toilets flushing in the background.

“I'm fine, I s’pose, just that guy was rubbing up against me all weird.” You fix your hair in the mirror, refreshing your eyeliner before passing it to Matty so he could do the same. You had taught him how to do it himself, saving you a load of time and effort whenever you were getting ready together. Tonight's color was red, both of you were wearing the same shade.

The stall door flings open as a girl stumbles out, almost falling before she caught herself on the hand dryer. Fixing her bra strap, she wiped the edges of her mouth clean before reaching into her small blue handbag. Out comes a small baggie with white powder in it. You immediately recognise it. Blow.

While you and Matty smoked copious amounts of weed, neither of you had ever tried anything harder. An exception was the occasional acid trip, and even that was a one off on Ross’ 18th birthday.

Both you and Matty watch her intently as she starts cutting up lines on the edge of the sink, not caring that both your eyes were on her. She takes out a £5 note, rolling it before snorting the line. Her hair is wild as she lifts her head back up, turning to the mirror to fix it.

“D’you fancy some, love? I have plenty for you,” she looks over to Matty, flashing him a smile “and your friend, as well.”

It takes you a split second to realize her statement was directed at you. Matty turns to make eye contact, before doing something you didn't expect.

He nods, taking a step towards the girl. You do the same. ‘If you're going to try it’, you thought, trying to rationalize, ‘who better than with Matty?’

She shakes more of the powder onto the sink, cutting two lines for the both of you, and one more for herself. You notice the card she uses is a school I.D. A high school I.D.

She hands you the rolled up note first, and for some reason, you feel calm. ‘This is fine’ you repeat in your head, before opening your mouth to speak.

“This is blow, yeah?” you ask, looking up at her from your position, which was currently hunched over the sink. It's cold, colder than it was.

“Yeah, clean shit too, don't worry,” she offers a genuine smile, stroking your hair with her long, black nails. You steal a glance at Matty, who was now sitting on the sink next to you, watching closely. You nod, turning back to the line of white powder in front of you

You take a deep breath before snorting the line. It burns as it travels through your nostrils, and you don't feel anything for a second.

And then, it hits you.

It hits you fast. Everything feels amplified, and you barely register as Matty snorts his. You feel good, euphoric even. Matty feels the same way, letting out a shout when he does lift his head from the sink.

The girl was long gone when you exited the bathroom and reentered the crowd. You danced with Matty, the music controlling your movements. Deciding to get a drink, you drag him to the bar. The bartender looks you up and down, before shaking his head. He knew you were on something, but that wasn't a rarity in clubs like Sound. Everyone was on something, so, fuck it! Why couldn't you do the same?

Matty orders for you. A french martini and a glass of Malbec for him. The bartender raised his eyebrows at his drink order. “Who orders wine at a club?” he shouts over the music. Matty rolls his eyes before responding “I do! Why, d’you fancy buying me a drink when you get off?” he winks at him provocatively before taking the drinks from the counter.

He hands you your drink, bringing his hand up to your face, wiping off the smudged makeup underneath your eyes. That's when you realize how hot it was. ‘Fucking hell’ you thought. ‘When did it get so hot? Jesus Christ, it's like I'm in a sauna’.

Matty had downed his glass of wine in two large gulps, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his your wine red jumper. You rake your eyes over his body, a thin layer of sweat shone on his forehead. His eyeliner was somehow still perfect.

He was perfect.

March, 2008 // two months earlier

The mid afternoon sun was beating down onto your skin. The blanket beneath you molding to the ridges of the earth, digging into your back. You were lying in a field, surrounded by daisies and dandelions blowing softly in the breeze, a half-empty packet of crisps on your left. Your arms were sprawled out to the side, with Matty lying peacefully on top of you.

Adam had situated himself on a flimsy fold up chair. He hated sitting on the ground with a burning passion. You had promptly forgiven him for leaving you to fend for yourselves that past weekend, seeing as he promised to pay club covers for a month as an apology. Just you though, seeing as Matty would have abused the ever living hell out of Hann’s wallet if given the chance.

George and Ross were in the lake located a few dozen meters from where you were sitting, having a swim. The weather was uncharacteristically nice given that you were in Great Britain, land of miserable weather, so the five of you had set out for a makeshift picnic at the last minute.

It wasnt aesthetically pleasing by any means, with fag packets litering the dirty old blanket Ross had found in an old closet. Ross’ beer bottles were lined up at the edge of the blanket. You grab a pack, presumably Georges, and light up. Marlboro golds, not your favorite, but they’ll do. Breathing in the smoke, you turn your head to get a better look at Matty, who was draped over you, using your chest as a pillow.

You wore Mattys sunflower shirt, unbuttoned, revealing a black sports bra underneath. He, in turn, wore one of your tops. Specifically, a lavender baby tee with the words ‘dump him’ scrawled across the chest in white glitter. Adam was dressed like a divorced dad, beige linen trousers paired with a Metallica band shirt. You laughed when you saw him, knowing he’d be sweating in under an hour wearing that.

Soft music played in the background, the speaker having been lost underneath the pile of Ross and George's clothes. The air smelled of summer, even if it was only March. You spot the wine bottle in Mattys hand as he tilted his head up, taking a drink. You tap him on the arm, and he hands you the bottle.

White wine? Matty rarely drank white wine. You brushed it off, it was probably just the cheapest thing at the store. Matty loved expensive red wine, but did not have the money to pay for it, always settling for the bottle with the lowest price tag. Your attention is drawn to George screaming incoherent curses at Ross for throwing a rock at him. Absolute knobheads.

“D’you reckon we need sunscreen? I don't wanna age my skin anymore than it already has.” he asked, his fingers lingering on his face. His skin was perfect, not a single blemish tarnishing it. “I dunno, I don't think we need to. It's not that hot.” you answer, looking around you. “It's not looking like we have any anyway” you add.

You could feel Mattys' breath on you, ghosting over your chest. His legs moved, brushing against yours. You were suddenly very aware of the fact he was laying on top of you. It made you feel hot, and not because of the sun.

He rolled on top of you, now straddling your legs. He was clearly drunk, slurring his words. His eyes stared into yours with such an intensity, you would've thought he was trying to read your mind. His face was bare, but the glitter from last night's adventures still stained his face, giving him a slight shine.

A smile crept onto his face as he brushed his hair out of his face. The blonde highlights had slightly grown out by now, and you made a mental note to ask him if he wanted you to do his roots.

“Didnt you want to cut my hair?” He asked, and you recognised that look in his eye. Excitement. He jumps up, crawling to get his bag.

“I brought a pair of scissors, d’you wanna cut it now?” He held up pink kitchen scissors, handing them to you as you moved to a sitting position.

“Are you sure? These are not meant for ha-” “I don't careee, just do it!” he slurred, cutting you off and settling between your crossed legs. He turns and looks at you expectantly, and you sigh in defeat.

You try your best, snipping away at his hair randomly. Cutting layers into his hair, you try to make the strands around his face shorter. He giggles as it tickles his face, brushing it off his skin. The sun made him appear as if he were glowing, painting him in an orange hue. Trying not to cut it too short, you tug at it to get a good idea of the length.

A soft groan escapes Mattys mouth, and he tries to pass it off as a cough, avoiding your gaze. A few minutes later, you tug at it again. A little experiment , if you will. This time, the noise is slightly clearer, and his whole body twitches. He busies himself with the bottle of wine in his hands, inspecting the label.

He admires your work in a little compact mirror you had found in your bag. “So.. do you like it? Or have I completely fucked your hair?” you ask, watching his reflection. Matty grins, slamming the mirror shut.

“I love it! The layers make me look hot, so you did your job right!” He pulled you in for a hug, kissing all over your face: He was obviously drunker than you thought.

You lay back on your elbows, closing your eyes, letting the sun shine onto your skin. This was nice. You felt truly alive.

—---------------------------------------------------------

Skin against skin, soft moans filled the room. You didn't even know who they belonged to. Desire took over your bodies like a foreign force. The room was dark, the only light coming from the streetlamp just outside, illuminating the space.

“Fuck- can I?” hands trailed down your chest, toying with the buttons of your shirt. You nod frantically, smashing his lips back against yours. You find his hair, pulling slightly as he lets out a pathetic whimper. You drink in the noise as if it was the very essence of life, tugging even harder at the curls. Curls. Matty.

“Mmh- ah, fuck-” You can feel him against your thigh. You can feel Matty grinding against you. The thought makes your head spin, and you throw your head back, your hair splayed over the baby blue pillows. Mattys pillows.

“You're so- you’re so beautiful, just let me- i’ll-” he cuts himself off, trailing his lips down your jaw, leaving searing, hot kisses in his wake. His mouth makes contact with your collarbone, biting down. You hiss, your nails digging into his scalp. He groans. Matty

His rough hands rub the tattoo on your hip, you feel his rough calluses. You pull his hair, making him look at you. Your eyes rake over his face, the glitter around his eyes shimmering in the faint light. His hand comes up to push your shirt up, the material bunching up where his mouth had just been. You make eye contact again.

He grins before licking one long stripe along the expanse of your ribcage, letting out an obscene moan as he did. He was putting on a show, for you. The noise goes straight to your core.

His fingers snap the elastic of your black underwear, making you jump. A laugh. Teeth graze your hip bone, tracing the tattoo. You can feel him slipping the lace down your thighs, licking and sucking lower, lower, lower…

You jolt awake suddenly, hot sweat running down your back. You turn to look at the time. 2:53am.

What the fuck was that?

You close your eyes, the dream replaying in your head. Lips, your lips and his. Teeth, kisses down your neck, Matty Matty Matty–

You stop yourself, shoving your face into a pillow. This can't be happening. This wasn't real. This was all hallucination and you didn't just have a wet dream involving your best mate.

Letting out a groan, you lay back down facing the wall. You desperately, desperately needed a good lay. If it had come to you having fucking dreams about Matty of all people, you knew it was time to find a guy and just shag him. That would solve your little predicament, you were sure of it.

—------------------------------------------------------------

Admiring yourself in the mirror, you hike the ruched material of your dress up even further. Jewelry covered you from head to toe, complimenting the details of your bag perfectly. Hair done up in curls, you knew you were ready.

You were going out. Alone.

The heel of your shoe clicked nervously against the pavement as you queued, giving the bouncer, James, a nod as he waved you through. “No Matty today?” he questioned, referring to the fact that you were alone.

“Yeah, I'm out alone tonight. Matty is… sick. The flu.” you lie through your teeth, not wanting to disclose the real reason behind your solo-mission. The plan was to find a guy, any guy, and forget about that godforsaken dream.

The music was loud, even louder than usual, and you were stone cold sober. Not good.

Making your way to the bar, you order your usual, a french martini. Tobias, the bartender, handed your drink, and you close out. You didn't want to get hammered tonight.

Your fingers drum along to the beat as you sip your drink, scanning the crowd. There weren't many people dancing, seeing as it was a Sunday night. Most had work in the morning, so going out wasn't an option. He had asked you if you really didn't want anything else, even offering you a drink in the house. You politely decline with a shake of your head, assuring him it was alright.

Suddenly, a tall man appeared in your peripheral vision. You had seen him a few times before, wandering about, flirting with the female waitresses. Blonde hair, blue eyes. The complete opposite of Matty. His arm rested against the bar, and you could see him flexing his muscles. On purpose. Jesus.

He strolled up to you with an air of confidence. Turning to Tobias, he asked him what your drink was. “A french martini,” he answered, looking you up and down “and she's only had one the entire night.” The man laughs, “Well that wont do! Let me buy you a drink sweetheart, on me.”

You nod, turning to face him. A smile makes its way onto your lips. Perfect .

He introduces himself as David. He works an office job down the road, something something marketing. You didn't really listen to him, only laughing when he paused, expecting it

He seemed solid, and he was 19, so not too old. You really didn't want to deal with another Phillip situation. He had bought you three, quite pricey, drinks, and you knew he wanted more.

He eventually asked if you wanted to come back to his place for some wine. You agreed, letting yourself be led out of the club by your wrist. James winked at you knowingly as you left.

He had a silver Toyota, the interior a cream leather. It was a big difference to Hann’s beaten up red Kia, but you weren't complaining. He was nice enough, opening the car door for you.

The inside of his flat reeked of sickly sweet vanilla and cheap cologne. He opened a bottle of wine for the both of you, pouring two glasses. The conversion was mundane, but he was nice enough. You had switched your phone off, not wanting anything to distract you from your mission. He had made a move to sit next to you, his hand trailing up your thigh, inching higher with every word he uttered.

His mouth was against your ear, whispering sweet nothings into it, his other hand finding your chest, pushing you down onto the sofa. You let him move you, twist you as he pleased. It didn't mean anything to you, you just needed to get Matty out of your head. Matty.

His hands were soft, like he moisturized them regularly. You could feel his lips on your chest, leaving bite marks and kisses, but you didn't feel anything. Closing your eyes, you decide to let him do all of the work. You had even worn your only pair of lace underwear, a black number with a little bow on the front of the matching bra. The same pair you had worn in the dream.

You mentally curse yourself, kissing David deeper, harder than you did before. Forget, forget, forget.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------

He wasn't the worst, but at least he tried. You tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Laying on his (quite expensive looking) leather couch, you watch him as he gets dressed. He asks you if you need anything, and you answer with a shake of your head. You just wanted to leave.

A phone buzzes, and you quickly realize it's yours. You pick it up, the screen lighting up. 3 missed calls from Matty, and 4 texts from him as well.

// Where r you? I’m at your window.

// Are you well?

// Answer me for fucks sake, dont do this.

// I hope you’ve died or smth, you’re well fucking me off.

You sigh, clicking the call button. It rings for a split second before Matty picks up.

“Now you decide to ring me back? I thought you’d been picked up by a sex trafficker or something. Fuck you, honest,” his voice sounded worried, even tired, if you ignored the nature of his words.

“Sorry mate, I was out.” You answer curtly, trying to keep your voice steady. Your fingers tap against the glass of the coffee table, and you hear Matty inhale sharply.

“Out where? And why did it take me three calls and four messages to get a ring back?” he sounded more aggressive this time, and you could tell he had gotten up from wherever he was sitting. This pissed you off. Why does he have the right to know where you are, it didn’t concern him in the slightest, and he wasn't your father. You told him as much.

“I was out, alright? I'm at David's place right now, and I'll be at yours in an hour, cool?” A moment of silence passes between you two before Matty spits out. “Whos the fuck is David?” The way he said his name made it sound like you had shagged his worst enemy, not some random guy.

“He's just a bloke I met at Sound, I went to his place. D’you want me over or should I fuck off home?” The second option was just a courtesy, you were sure he’d want you over. You hadn’t seen each other since Friday.

“Nah, it's alright, go home.” His voice sounded cold, unfeeling. A shudder made its way up your spine. He didn't sound like himself at all. What the fuck? “I have erm.. work to catch up on. You understand.” No you didnt fucking understand.

You open your mouth to protest, but are rudely interrupted by a faint noise. The dial tone. Matty had hung up on you. Your mouth let out a gasp in disbelief. Fuck him. Fuck him all the way.

You gather your things. While trying to find your shoes, David comes back into the room. You tell him you need to leave, and he tries to kiss you goodbye. It feels wrong.

Deciding to walk barefoot, you do the walk of shame at 1 in the morning. Heels in one hand, your purse in the other, you trudge down the pavement. You feel dirty, like you did something inherently wrong.

Cars whizz by you, and you hear sirens in the background. It's cold, and you can feel goosebumps forming on your skin in the soft breeze. Feeling around for your cigarettes, you come across something small towards the bottom of your purse. You pull it out, your eyes widening at the sight. The lighter. Mattys lighter.

The white letters on the side point and laugh at you. You can hear it. It was even more chipped than it was that night, how did it still work? M.H. Matty.

In a fit of rage you chucked the lighter onto the ground in front of you. It splinters off, the metal top flying off onto the road. A car drives over it. You were angry. Angry at yourself for even going out alone. For going home with fucking David. You were angry at Matty for being angry at you. You didn't even understand why, but the mere fact he had hung up on you made your blood boil.

The lighter was now in pieces beneath your feet. The white letters, illegible. Feeling powerful, you decide to kick the rest of the plastic off onto the road, hoping a giant truck would run it over. You wanted Matty at your feet like this, pathetic and powerless. You needed him like this, to show him he can't just hang up on you like you're nothing.

The mental image of Matty at your feet made warmth spread throughout your body. On his knees, looking up at you with glassy, glitter framed eyes. You wanted to take his beautiful hair and weave it between your fingers, forcing him to look up at you. You wanted to hear the pathetic whimpers escape his mouth, just like they did in your dream.

You feel breathless, staring at the wet pavement where the lighter once was. You keep walking.

Chapter Text

June, 2008

Saturday morning, the sun is shining brightly through your curtains. The clock reads 8:32am. You’re awoken by a harsh knock on your window. Matty. You smile

Today is a particularly good day. It's your Birthday, your 18th, to be exact. You get up, and you can already hear the metaphorical birds chirping outside of your window. Slowly walking to your window, you're greeted by Matty grinning at you through the glass.

“There's my birthday girl,” he says, pulling you in for a hug. The ‘my’ makes your heart skip a beat, but you inevitably push the feeling down. ‘Not now’.
The hug lasts a few seconds too long as he buries his face in your hair, taking a deep breath. Your hands trail down the expanse of his back, lingering around his waist. He releases you, climbing into the room.

You get dressed. A black dress, lace and frills adorning the edges. Matty is wearing his blue Barcelona shirt. He managed to get the stains out of it, you notice. His favorite pair of skinny jeans cling to his legs, even if just a bit looser.

Watching you do your makeup, he smiles at you endearingly. It had been two months since he hung up on you. You didn't talk about it, you never did. What was the point? It would just bring up more confusing feelings you weren't ready to deal with. Things were better the way they were, and they stayed like that. Until they didn't.

You finish rather quickly, turning to look at him. He knows that look.

“You got any on you?” you ask.
He nods, grinning as he reaches into the back pocket of his pants. He pulls out a red cigarette case, opening it slowly as you sit down next to him. In it, were two pre rolled spliffs. Next to them, was the thing you were actually asking about. A baggie filled with white powder.

Ever since that night, you’d wanted to experience what you felt again. Over and over. Matty already knew a few good guys who had set decent prices. He started picking up for the both of you, always splitting the sum. You reached into your pocket to pull out the cash for your portion, but he pushed your hand away.

“It's your birthday, darling, I can't let you pay for anything, it wouldn't be right.” he winks at you. Darling. You nod, laying back onto the bed, watching him.
He searches your room for something to cut the lines with, settling on your Hollister members card. Grabbing your bio notebook, he shakes just enough of the substance onto the surface for both of you.

You snort yours first, moving out of the way to give Matty his go. The both of you stare at each other before breaking out into uncontrollable laughter, falling into each other's arms. You lay like that for a bit, before Matty gets up.

“C’mon, we’re taking you out for your birthday. The big one-eight!” he laughs, clearing off the surface. He rubs the remainder on your gums. The feel of his fingers in your mouth is strangely erotic, you involuntarily let you a soft moan. He looks at you funny, and you shake your head, brushing it off. He tucks the cigarette case back into his jeans.

You go through the front door this time, knowing your mother was at the office. On your 18th birthday, your own parent had decided work was more important. Fuck her, honestly. You don't lock the front door, knowing you wouldn’t be able to find your keys later.

The two of you take the short walk to the local corner shop, Adam, Ross, and George already standing there with… balloons?
A giant pink balloon floated over Hann’s head, and he grins at you as you walk towards him.
“For the birthday girl– a pretty pink balloon.” you can hear the other three boys sniggering behind your back. With a roll of your eyes, you take the balloon from him, holding it awkwardly.

The bell rings as you open the door to the shop, greeting Becca, the woman behind the counter with a smile. She waves back, already turning around to grab a pack of your favourite fags for you. The two of you were friends, having met at a party a few years back. She sold you whatever you needed, ignoring the fact you were underage for years.

Her eyebrows raise as she notices the balloon. “It's my birthday today!” you say, louder than expected. She shook her head, immediately noticing something off. Placing the bottle of vodka on the counter, you hand her your I.D with a toothy grin, and she scans it.
“It's on the house, darling, but..” she trails off, leaning into you. You do the same, listening intently. “Lay off a bit, your pupils are fucking huge and its 10 in the morning” her words take you by surprise. Taking a look in the mirror of the shop bathroom, you confirm her statement.

Splashing some cold water onto your face, you shake off the feeling of dread. Today was a good day, nothing was going to ruin it. You take a pair of sunglasses out of your bag. They were pink with a black rim, complimenting your outfit.

You make your toward the exit, fags and vodka in hand, waving goodbye to Becca. She smiles at you, but it looks off. You ignore it, pushing the door open with your shoulder. Matty greets you with a smile, taking the bottle off you.

You look to your left to see George welding what looked like a Sainsburys shopping cart. Cocking an eyebrow, you walk toward him. George takes the balloon, tying it to the shopping cart before opening his mouth to speak.

“Go on, get in birthday girl,” you give him a skeptical look, before you feel hands gripping your waist. Flailing in the air, you realize Ross had picked you and was now placing you into the cart. Inside was a 6 pack of beer, and various food items.
You flip Ross off, cursing him out for basically throwing you into a metal shopping cart. The five of you spend the day like that, riding around in the cart. You cruise down highways, and at some point, Matty gets in with you. You're both pressed up against each other, legs intertwining.

A blue ferrari whizzes past you, honking aggressively. Neither of you was sober enough to care, throwing beer bottles after the car, narrowly missing it. Adam was paranoid that the driver was going to call the cops on them, but he was promptly ignored by the rest of you.

For some reason or another, you end up in a McDonald's parking lot. It's dirty and fairly empty, tire tracks marking up the pavement. George had paid for your food, and you were all munching away happily at your burgers. Matty was moaning into his chicken burger like it was heaven as a food item.

“Jesus mate, I'm not sure I want to hear your sex noises while trying to enjoy my food, tone it down, will you?” Ross says, pulling a face. Matty responds by letting out a loud groan, licking the sauce off of his fingers.

“You love my sex noises, don't lie. Remember that time I was shagging Ava in the loo at George's party and you were standing outside the whole time?” he says with a full mouth. Ross shakes his head, whispering quiet words of denial.

Matty shoots you a look, and you nod. “I need a piss,” you say, getting up. “Matty?”
He gets up, wiping his hands on Hann’s shirt, and he smacks him across the face. Matty just laughs, turning to leave with you.
“Why do you always go piss together? A bit weird, innit?” George comments, cocking an eyebrow. “We’re going for his hourly blowjob, George, didnt you know?” you joke, nudging Matty in the ribs. A collective “Ewww” sounds from the group as you leave.

The bathroom is a borderline health hazard, the sinks covered in a type of grime you can only describe as slimy. Matty swipes it off as best he could, taking the red cigarette case back out. He goes through the routine, cutting up two lines with that same Hollister card.

“D’you have any cash on you?” he asks, giving your frame a once over. You nod, taking out a tenner from your bra.
His eyes linger on you, and you feel naked, exposed. He knew. He knew why you had gone out that night. He knew about the dream, you were sure of it.
He chuckles as he sees where you’d been keeping the money before rolling it and handing it to you, ever the gentleman.

This line felt different, stronger. You assume he cut more than last time. Taking a sip from the sink, you fix your hair in the mirror, wiping under your nose. Matty does his line. He gathers the loose powder onto his middle and index fingers, his other hand cupping your face. Rubbing onto your gums, you can feel them start to go numb. He holds eye contact, as if he were waiting for something. He got what he wanted when you let out a soft groan, your eyes never leaving his.

His hand leaves your jaw, instead running through his air. He doesn't put the cigarette case away just yet, taking one of the zoots out. Handing it to you, you tuck it away in your pocket.

Making your way outside, you notice the streetlamps were already on. Was it that late already? The guys had already finished their food, wrappers littering the inside of the cart. They were standing next to each other, like they were waiting. You walk up to George, cheekily pulling out the joint from your pocket.

“Sweet! But before that, we have something for you,” you look confused. Adam then takes his hands from behind his back, revealing a square velvet box. You take it, glancing at Matty. He nods, signaling at you to open it.

Inside is a silver necklace, in the shape of a star. Not any star though, it was the same shape as the tattoo you had on your hip. Before you could stop them, tears welled up in your eyes, dripping down onto the metal.

“Fuck you– did you really?” you ask, your vision blurry. They all nod, taking a step closer, giving you a half-awkward group hug. Matty stroked your hair, taking the necklace out of its box. His fingers are like electricity against your skin as he moves your hair out of the way, undoing the clasp of the necklace.

“Thank you so much– fuck i’m crying,” your hand wipes at yur face, taking some of your mascara with it. “God, I'm so pathetic.” Your heart filled with love for your friends, and you gave them each an individual hug. Ross lets out a deep chuckle, wiping more of your tears. Fucking hell.

Mattys hug is long, once again burying his face into your hair. He squeezes you, his hands resting on your waist when he pulls away. You fight the urge to kiss him. No, not now.
Forcing yourself to get your shit together, you walk toward the giant, half-drank bottle of vodka, taking a swig.

You hear the others talking amongst themselves, with Ross raving on about the latest Macclesfield town game and how much they sucked. “They played like the ball had been invented 15 minutes before they were set to play,” he scoffed, finishing his beer, smashing the bottle on the floor, the shards scattering around him. No one knew why he did that, he just did.

Matty was stood next to you, his shoulder pressed against yours, headphone wires between you. The sun was starting to set, the purple light making Matty look ethereal. You really, really wanted to kiss him. But you don't, instead opting to pick at your freshly manicured nails.
The two of you sat there, next to each other, neither daring to move.
—----------------------------------------------------------------

“You have to sanitize everything so you dont cause some sort of gnarly infection, yeah?” Rome explained, wiping down the needle with a disinfectant wipe. You watched intently, making a mental note.
He had agreed to teach you how to pierce people when you vaguely mentioned having an interest in it. Rome wasn't the best, but he had done your bellybutton pretty well, so why not?

The needle looked intimidating, your hands shaking slightly as you gripped the base. He was letting you pierce his ear for practice, on the condition you promise you wont completely fuck it up.

The jewelry he had picked was a silver cross with red details that shimmered when you held it to the light. You had commented on it, and he mentioned he had some similar jewelry for your type of piercing. Humming in response, you thanked him as he gave it to you, even going so far as to switch it out.

Rome was calm, trusting you fully. “Just slowly push it in, and thread the jewelry through the top part. After that, just pull it through. Its simple really, just dont fuck it up.” he shoots you a grin, and you laugh at him sarcastically.

With laser focus, you pierce the needle through the marked skin in one go, ignoring his pained hiss. The jewelry went in without a hitch, and Rome got up to admire your work.
“S’not bad for your first time,” he said with a wink, and you roll your eyes, thanking him for letting you do this.

You say goodbye, giving him a peck on the cheek, slamming the front door shut.

Matty had called you earlier, asking if you wanted to come over to his. His parents were gone, and he had the house to himself.
Your bag clinked as you slung it over your shoulder, walking the short distance to his house. The setting sun shines into your eyes, and you take out those same sunglasses you had worn on your birthday.

Knocking on the door, it's not long before Matty answer. He's wearing a dark green zip up, black sweatpants hanging low on his waist. The skin of his chest peaks out from underneath the thick material. You swallow, hard,

He lets you in, and you make your way to the wine fridge (yes, wine fridge), pulling out an unopened bottle of Merlot. He takes two fresh glasses out of the cupboard, and you pour a healthy amount into them.

You and Matty spent most of your time getting hammered and talking nonsense and watching nonsense TV. Nothing seemed to make sense around him. Your heart was beating against your ribcage as if it was trying to break out of your chest. You sit down, laying your head down onto his chest.

The telly was turned up, some cartoons playing. You just couldn't focus on anything. You nudge Mattys hip, giving him a look and he knew. Getting off him, you sit down onto the floor next to the posh crystal coffee table. He came back, holding a baggie filled with more blow than you had ever seen in your life.

“Where'd you even get that much? Christ Matty, that's like 400 quid worth of the stuff in one bag.” he smiles at you. “My parents are rich, remember? 400 quid is a dinner date for them.”
You can't help but grin, scooting closer to the table. He cuts two lines for each of you, and you do yours straight off the table, not even caring.

The two of you return to your previous position on the sofa, with you pressed up against his chest. You've abandoned the glasses, decided to just drink from the bottle. Who was watching?
His heart was beating in his chest, you could hear it. Your hands wander to his waist, pulling him close.

He loses a hand in your hair, scratching your scalp in the way he knew you liked. Your breathing is shallow, you feel lightheaded, all because of fucking Matty. You attempt to convince yourself there is nothing there, spending endless nights pondering, trying your hardest to get him out of your head.

His hand moves down to your jaw, playing with your earrings. His skin feels hot. You feel hot.

Matty turns your head, angling it toward him. You were looking at each other now. The look in his eye was indiscernible as they darted all over your face, landing on your lips. His tongue swiped over his bottom lip, and he sucked in a deep breath before connecting his wet lips with yours.

Gripping the back of your neck, he maneuvers you on top of him. Both of your legs were on either side of his, straddling him. He moaned into the kiss, tilting his head slightly to the left.

You take over the kiss, biting down onto his lower lip, hard. He's breathless, gasping for air as he pulls away. You stare at each other, out of breath and sweating.

“What are yo-,” you start,
“Shut up, just– be quiet.”
He pulls you back in, your lips crashing against his. His hand travels down to cup your chest through your shirt, tweaking your nipple. He groans, the noise turning into a high-pitched moan as you dig your nails into his scalp.

“You like that?” you ask, giving his hair a tug. The whimper that comes out of his mouth is all the confirmation you need.

You stop again, and your eyes meet his. His chest moves up and down in rapid succession, and you can feel his heart beat even quicker.

“I don't- just please– fuck, don't stop.” he pleads with you, his hand trailing down your lower back. The look on his face is delicious. He's begging. A bead of sweat runs down his face, disappearing into his hair.
Your lips connect with his neck, biting down into his skin. The noises that escape him can only be described as pornographic, his voice reverberating through the room, the high ceilings amplifying them.

Continuing your attack on his throat, you listen to the sounds he lets out, drinking them in. It was music to your ears, hearing him like that. Because of you.

Matty presses a hand to your chest, making you stop.
“Maybe we shouldn't- I mean, wouldn't it be weird?”
you nod in agreement, sitting up on top of him. It would be weird around the others. You try to seem unbothered, it's not like you felt anything for him. Of course you loved him, as a best mate, and all of this had been a horrible mistake

A nervous laugh leaves his lips, morphing into a genuine one. “Can you imagine? Us? Hann’d lose his mind.” you crack a smile, imagining Adam's reaction to your current situation.

You slowly get off of him, turning your attention to the abandoned bottle of wine laying on the table. Picking it up, you gulp the rest down, wiping your mouth clean. Clean of Matty. You know it's wrong to want him like this, to want to feel his skin against yours. You ignore every primal instinct telling you to get back on him, to kiss him again, instead, you make yourself comfortable on the floor.

He turns the telly up, switching to a news channel instead. You didn't dare look at him, afraid of what you’d see. You feel a tap on your shoulder.
“Y’know, just because we stopped.. doesn't mean you can't like, lay on me and stuff.” he gestures to himself before patting the space next to him.
“Lots of people would pay good money to be able to touch me, so you better make the most of it,” a grin spreads onto his face as you get up.

You lay back down, settling into him completely. This is fine. This is totally fucking fine. Sucking in a deep breath, you turn your attention to the TV in front of you, losing yourself in the colors.

His hand searches for yours, intertwining your fingers with one another. What was he doing? A million thoughts run through your mind. One thing was clear, you definitely needed another drink.

Time passed, becoming more and more irrelevant as the hours ticked by. The two of you had moved to his bed, lying next to each other. Bon Jovi’s ‘Vienna’ played softly through your headphones, his voice piercing his thoughts. Despite what he might tell other people, Matty loved Bon Jovi. He would rave on about his music for hours, and you would listen to every word, a familiar warmth spreading through you. Adoration.

Matty had already fallen asleep, softly snoring into the pillow. You turned off the music, slowly taking out the headphone from his ear. He stirred for a second, muttering something in his sleep, but didn’t wake up.

You look at him, hair falling over his face in loose curls. The soft sound of his breathing filled the air, acting as a sort of white noise for you. You lay down facing him, and stroke his face lightly. He was beautiful like this, peaceful.

—---------------------------------------------------------

Morning came slowly, the sun gradually peaking through the blinds as it came up. Matty woke up before you, getting ready quietly before shaking you awake. You borrowed some of his clothes, pulling on a black and yellow striped shirt over a pair of his jean shorts. He opted for just layering a black tank top underneath the outfit he already had on.

The walk to the bus stop was quiet, the sound of chirping birds filling your ears. It was a Monday morning, so both of you were sober and ready to learn (ugh). Once again walking arm and arm, you had gotten to the stop earlier than intended, sitting down on the metal bench.

Neither of you spoke about the previous night. It was better that way. Matty pulled out a pack of cigarettes, pulling out two. One for you, one for him. He lights yours.
You spot the bus, throwing your half smoked cigarette to the ground, and he does the same. He leads you to the front of the bus, giving you the window seat. Matty loved the window seat.

His head is once again in your lap, acting like the past 12 hours simply hadn't happened. You were content with that, softly stroking his hair, curling and uncurling it with your grown out nails. “Let's skip last lesson,” he suggests “George is at his nans anyway. What's the point?” you nod in agreement, leaning your head against the glass.

Neither of you had bothered bringing anything today, both your bags only filled with lighters, makeup, and maybe the occasional notepad. The halls are unusually empty for this time of day, but you just brush it off. You and Matty trudge to the classroom, flinging open the door to be met with a very angry looking Mrs. Sexton

She has a go at you, yelling about how it's ‘incredibly disrespectful’ to come 15 minutes late to her class again. You offer her a shrug, sitting down at your usual table. Matty is quiet today, hungover and way too sober to say anything to the insults being strewn at him from a few tables back. The group of boys won't let up, chatting shit the entire lesson . You ignore them. Class ends, and you’re walking down the halfway arm in arm, talking about how much Mrs sexton fucked you off.

“Look at him, fucking fairy, isnt he? Even his little girlfriend wont snog him. Disgusting,” They spit at you, laughing in their little group. The comment made about you makes Matty turn around.

“D’you know why i'm not snogging her, mh?” he stares daggers into the guy whoever dared to utter a word at you, running his hand through his hair. “I’ve been too busy fending off your girl, talking ‘bout ‘oh please make me cum Matty, my boyfriend never touches me right-” A punch to the gut punctuates his sentence, making him fall to the ground.

Matty doesn't stay down too long, getting up and throwing himself at the bloke who hit him, tackling him to the ground. He starts hitting him properly, throwing punches at his head. In turns, the guy smacks him across the face, making him roll off of him.

Eventually, the guys' mates pull them apart, spitting more insults at Matty and you. Matty spits on the ground infront if him, giving him a wink. The two of you then book it down the hallway to the nearest loo, locking yourselves in.

The moment you both look at each other, laughter fills the space. “You're mental, you know that?” you say through giggles, wiping the tears from your eyes. “He could've actually hurt you!- Fuck, your eye.” you see a gash underneath his left eye, it was bleeding.

Grabbing as much toilet roll as you could, you hold it to the cut, trying to stop the bleeding. “Oh, bugger off, it's nothing.” he says, wincing as you press down harder. “Don't even try to do your ‘oh i'm so manly’ schtick with me, I swear to god.” your hand holds his head, making it easier for you to press the paper against his cheek.

Thats when you realise how fucking close your face is to his. He’s sitting on the closed toilet lid, and you're on your knees, of all places. Last night was really, truly, messing with your mind. His leg twitches slightly, eyes peering down at you. You can see him take a deep breath, his chest rising and falling slowly.

You feel a blush creep onto your cheeks as you look up at him. Silence fills the room, the only sound being your knees shuffling against the tile. His legs spread slightly, allowing you to scoot toward him. This is so fucked up.

“Can I kiss you?” his voice comes out meek and non-committal, eyes avoiding yours.
“Only if you look at me, Matty.” you answer, straightening your knees, making yourself taller.
He forces himself to meet your gaze, pulling his lip in between his teeth. You nod, bringing your face to his, but not letting your lips touch. That was his choice.

His eyes bore into yours, as if he was trying to peer into your soul. He probably was.
“You're so beautiful,” he says, sounding confident, sure. He closes the gap between you, his hand grabbing at the base of your neck. You moan into his mouth, your arms wrapping around his neck. The blush that was previously confined to just your face spreads all over your body, making you feel as if you were on fire. Matty lit your skin on fire.

Then, he did something you didn't expect. He got up, taking you with him. With a force you didn't think he had, he pushed you up against the wall. Your mind couldn't comprehend what was happening. His whimpers fill the bathroom stall as you rake your nails down his back, digging them into it.

You gasp when he brings a knee up between your thighs, pushing up further. Breathless, you pull away, gasping for air. His hand traces up and down your jawline, nails scratching the skin. He places a peck onto your cheek, then your chin, making his way down your neck. You have no choice but to moan whenever his lips make contact with your skin, silently begging for more.

The bathroom door slams open, a group of girls piling in. Matty slaps a hand over your mouth, stifling your noises before anyone could hear. They start talking, and all you could do was focus on trying to not make a sound as Mattys knee moved up even higher. You look at him, panic in your eyes. You desperately didn't want to get caught.

He listens to your silent pleas, lowering his knee from its position. His mouth catches your lips in another kiss. The two of you stay like that until the girls decide to clear out, closing the door behind them. He tastes like cigarette smoke, then again, so do you. He interlocks his fingers with yours, pressing them up against the door. His tongue dances with yours, and you feel sparks of electricity travel up your spine.

He moans your name, your hand gripping at the roots of his hair, pulling tightly. He seemed to respond most when you did that. He responded to pain. Your nails digging into his back, your teeth biting his lip. Everything suddenly made sense, especially the time you had cut his hair. Those sounds he had disguised as coughs weren't cries of pain, but of pleasure.

You file away that information for another time, if there would even be another time. “Let's get you home,” you say, pressing a hand to his chest. His expression caused you physical pain, looking down at you like a kicked puppy.

You didn't want to want him like this, but your body and mind had apparently made a different decision. You lead him out of the stall, out of the bathroom and down the hall, making your way to the parking lot. The air was thick, but somehow still comfortable. You could feel his eyes on you for most of the walk to his house. For the first time since you had met, you were the one walking him home.

Hugging him at the door to his house, he leaned in to kiss you. You let him, his hands gripping your waist like it truly was his anchor to reality. This goodbye felt different, it felt hard.

// Matty //

Picture a scene: A darkened room, the only light coming from cracks in the curtains. The sheets are cold against his skin, giving him a sense of comfort.

His hands trace down his chest, grazing the skin lightly. He repeats the movement, sighing as his fingers linger over his nipples. The room is warm, or maybe that's just him. Regardless, he takes off his shirt, throwing it into a corner somewhere in his room.

He thinks about the kiss. The way your bodies moved against each other as if it were second nature. It felt right. Your lips against his, moans leaving his mouth involuntarily. He broke the kiss first, not wanting to go too far. He so desperately wanted to.

He couldn't hold back in the bathroom, with you looking up at him like that, eyes full of worry for his well being. He had fought for you, trying to defend your honor like some sort of disney prince. It did work, but he didn't like to fight. It wasn't who he was as a person. It wasn't who Matty was around you.

He palmed himself through his boxers, a groan tearing itself from his throat. He imagined it was your hand instead of his, the mental image of you with him, in this position, made all the blood in his head rush to his cock. The pressure was almost too much. Almost.

He imagined you above him again, your eyes never leaving him, always looking at him. His body yearned for your attention, for your touch. The shuffling of his boxers down his thighs is incredibly loud in the near silent room, the bed creaking beneath him.

He wraps his hand around the base of his cock, the tip leaking precum. Tugging at himself, he closes his eyes, picturing you. The way your neck cranes to look at him when he's laying on top of you. The way your lips wrap around the opening of a wine bottle, the liquid sloshing down your throat. The way you kissed him, taking complete control of the action. Taking complete control of him.

He can feel himself getting close, teetering on the edge. His noises get louder, echoing through the room. Attempting to muffle himself, he shoves his head into his pillow, biting down. It doesn't bring anything, and he starts helpless rutting into the mattress, begging for release. He imagines your voice, telling him to ask you for permission.

“P-please– fuckkk,” he stutters out.
No one can hear him, he knows that well enough. He just can't stop himself. He comes, hard, spilling into his hand.

He lays there, sweating, panting. The only thought in his clouded mind: You.

Chapter Text

The Sound was like your second home. The flashing lights and too loud music enveloping you in a sort of warm, comforting hug. You were friendly with the staff, never rowdy or disturbing the peace. They knew about you and Mattys' habit, but then again, the whole club was on some substance or other.

Tobias, the bartender, had told you multiple times to “Please, be careful,” and to “Always check over it, make sure it's not laced,” you took his words to heart, and Matty always assured you his dealer was straight.

You trusted him with your life, so you took his words at face value.

Generic club music filled your ears, your drink was already sloshing in your hand, spilling onto the person in front of you. You apologize profusely, and are met with a scoff and an insult. Typical. Not caring, you turn around to dance with Matty. George was somewhere in the crowd, shouting song requests at the DJ like an absolute knobhead. Too many drinks turned him into a club music connoisseur, always knowing better. It was a miracle he hadn't been kicked out yet.

Matty stopped dancing, tapping your shoulder three times in a pattern. Bathroom. Nodding your head, you laugh giddily in anticipation, making your way towards the edge of the crowd. The neon sign glowed, illuminating your face as you walked past it, Matty following close behind.

Jess, one of the waitresses, saw you heading toward the bathroom.

She was your mate from school, being only two years older than you. You saw her mouth something along the lines of ‘be safe’. She nodded at you before going back to taking drink orders from the VIP tables.

The bathroom was always colder than the dance floor, more comfortable. As you turn the corner to go inside, you spot a familiar face. Ruby. The girl from that night. She looks different, exhausted.

You embrace, her hands shaking against your back. Offering her a line in return, she eagerly agrees. Matty takes out the baggie from the breast pocket of his suit jacket (yes, he had worn a suit jacket to the club), cutting three lines. Patrons walking in and out of the bathroom stopped to stare, eventually walking off muttering “fucking junkies,” under their breaths. You could care less, snorting your line first.

Time slowed as you lifted your head up in the direction of the entrance, to see a tall figure standing there. George. Fuck.

Matty was already doing his line when you tapped him on the back, gesturing to the door. You’d been caught. His eyes were wide, switching between you, Matty, and Ruby, who was still hunched over the sink.

“What the fuck are you lot doing,” He starts, storming toward the three of you. Ruby whispered into your ear, telling you she had to leave. You nod, as calm as possible, giving her a kiss farewell. She smiled her toothy smile, eye bags under her eyes prominent.

George had grabbed Mattys face, inspecting the faint traces of white powder under his nose, muttering some along the lines of “Jesus Christ mate, what are you doing?”

His eyes made their way to you, the expression on his face a look of pure disappointment.

“Oh fuck off! It's just a bit of blow, what's the big deal? Loads of people do it,” Matty laughs, avoiding George's gaze. You nod your head in agreement. At the end of the day, what was so wrong about wanting to feel good for a few hours? It's not like you were addicted.

“You cant say shit like that Matty, it fucking scares me,” his voice quivers, shaken up. “Youre fucking enabling each other, how can you not see that?” You roll your eyes, and Matty grabs your wrist, tugging you behind him. George tries to shout after you.

“Bugger off, George, you're not my mother,” you spit that last word at him, turning around to make eye contact before losing yourself in the crowd. Mattys hand grips yours with such an intensity you’d think he'd want to rip it off of you. You're both heading for the exit, the warm air of the summer night hitting your skin.

Matty looks at you, his pupils massive. He's sweating, the powder still sticking to his nose. You reach out, brushing it off. It clings to your fingers. You tap his lips, signaling for him to open his mouth, He obliges, parting his pink, rose lined lips. Your finger feels hot in his mouth as you rub it onto his gums. A whimper escapes him, and he looks down at you, eyes filled with one thing and one thing only. Lust.

“Please,” he whispers, his voice barely audible. Your eyes narrow, and you bring your other hand up to stroke his face.

“What do you want, Matthew?” your voice is steady. You felt in control.

Another pathetic whine, his legs buckle beneath him as you trailed your hand down his jaw, stopping at his throat. Your fingers wrapped around it, and you could feel his erratic pulse thrumming in his neck. This felt wrong. Very, very wrong. But you don't stop, you never stop.

Your lips finally connect. The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongue. His breathing quickens, and you tug off his jacket, revealing his bare chest. The faint light of the alley didn't do him justice, but he looked beautiful. Your breath hitches when he loses a hand in your hair, his fingers weaving through it.

You can hear faint sirens in the background, as well the sound of cars speeding down the highway.

“George is a tosser, he doesn't know anything,” Matty murmurs against your mouth, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. His left hand rests on your waist, drawing endless circles onto your lower back.

“Yeah,” you agree. “I hope Ruby’s okay though, she looked proper rough.” Matty shakes his head, pushing your face into his chest. The two of you stand there like that, breathing in each other's essence. A strange sense of unease clouds your mind, interrupted by Mattys lips crashing against yours.

—--------------------------------------------------------------

“Can I pierce you?”

“No fucking chance you’re going near my body with a needle,” Matty laughs, taking a swig from the bottle of champagne in his hand. You wanted to practice, and Rome wouldn't let you do any more on him. You sigh, laying back on your elbows, staring at the ceiling.

“D’you even have the proper supplies or anything? Let me guess, Rome has converted you.” You nod, confirming his suspicion of Rome’s involvement. You plead with him further, and he inevitably gives in.

“If you fuck it up, i will never forgive you.” you laugh at him, slightly tipsy but still in control of yourself. “You have to chill, mate, it's just me shoving a needle into your body.”

“What do you wanna do? I was thinking maybe a second ear piercing or-” you cut him off

“I wanna pierce your nipples, that's the one i haven't done yet” you say, trying to sound nonchalant. Truthfully, your heart was racing at the thought of doing it. His was too.

“Are you sure? I don't want my nipples to disintegrate. It's quite a turn off, y’know? Not having any.” you roll your eyes at him, turning around to get the piercing kit Rome had given you as a late birthday present.

It contained various needles, disinfectant wipes and starter jewelry. Matty had already laid down onto the bed, unbuttoning his shirt.

Tearing the wipe open with your teeth, you turn around to face him. His breathing is unsteady, you can tell

“Calm down, it'll just be a pinch. I know what I'm doing,” he grins, brushing his hair out of his face. “We both know that's not true, but I trust you.” I trust you. The words reverberate through your skull, making you smile.

You wipe the needle first, then his chest. Using a pen, you mark where you want the jewelry to go. He had picked out a black, circular barbell. Fitting.

“Ok, just like, take a deep breath. You can't move” your voice is low, your hands trailing up his chest. It felt intimate, seeing him like this.

“Just do it, I'll be alright,” he shuffles slightly against the sheets of the bed, gripping them between his fingers. You know he thinks you won't notice, but he's nervous. You press a kiss next to his mouth, your eyes never leaving his.

Taking a breath to steady your hands, you push through the bud. You expect him to wince, maybe even cry. They were supposed to be quite painful.

Instead, he moans. Oh? You cock an eyebrow at him, noticing he’s beat red. The sight makes you giddy. He’s enjoying this.

A small tear rolls down his cheek as he twitches against the mattress. The look on his face is clear. Desperation.

His hands relax slightly, and you push the jewelry through.

“G-god dammit, fuck.” The noise is like music to your ears. He grew redder, if that was even possible. His eyes lock with yours. He's embarrassed. A grin spreads onto your face as you flick the jewelry, looking to elicit another reaction.

Your experiment proves correct, and he lets out a pathetic whimper, slapping his hand over his mouth to stifle it. Too late.

“Do you like it when I hurt you?” you ask, taking in the sight before you. Matty was sprawled across your bed, panting like a dog, skin flushed a light pinkish hue. His chest moved up and down rapidly, his hand covering half of his face.

His response is a slight nod, eyes searching yours for your reaction. You offer him a smile, your heart full of love. He trusted you that much. He trusted you enough to hurt him.

“We’ll do one today, save the other for later?” you suggest, your hand playing with his curls. He blinks back tears, nodding at you. His arms reach out for you, pulling you on top of him. Your chests press together, and he winces at the pressure on his piercing. Your lips move against each other, and he slips his tongue into your mouth. You moan at the intrusion, he props himself up on his elbows, looking for leverage. You don't give it to him, pushing him down.

He pulls away, eyes raking over your frame. Grinning, he bites his lip provocatively. Your fingers move to his eyes, smearing his eyeliner down his face. He laughs, the sound morphing into a moan as you grind down onto him. Only slightly, never giving him what he really wants.

He looks fucked out, raw. You still, getting off him with a wink. He looks at you puzzled, wondering if he did something wrong. He opens his mouth to speak, but you beat him to it.

“I know what you want, and I'm not going to give it to you. Not until you earn it.” He sits up, eyes silently pleading with you. Pleasepleasepleaseplease. He begged, you could see it on his face.

“Let's go out, I'm bored,” he shuddered at your words, getting up from his position. Walking over to your wardrobe, he pulled out a shirt of yours to wear. He was going to play your game.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Let's do something fun! Lets go decorate plates or something,” you suggest, your words being met with an eye roll from Matty.

“You're taking the piss, I'd be torn apart if I was seen decorating plates” He laughs, pushing you off to the side. You were walking down an empty street, the sun shining slightly between the clouds. It was fairly warm.

You neared a hobby shop, dragging Matty in with you, filtering out his groans of protest “Oh for fucks sake, let me go!” he huffs, pulling his arm out of your grasp. You raise your eyebrows at him, a slight smile creeping into your face. He smiles back at you, reluctantly turning towards the large selection of rhinestones in front of him.

You picked out your favorite colors, giddily holding them as Matty selects a pack of white ones. On the way out, you grab a pack of lighters, one white, one a dark hue of grey. The cashier hands you your change, wishing you a nice rest of your day. With a wide grin on your face, you do the same.

Matty fidgets with the hem of his shirt as the both of you leave the shop. Walking aimlessly, you eventually settle on a park bench, spreading out your supplies. He groans, trying to pick the rhinestones off to glue them on, clearly struggling. You help him, your fingers ghosting over his as you take the plastic sheet out of his hands.

He had taken the black lighter out of the pack, and was now gluing stones onto it with laser-focus, not wanting to mess up. You took the grey one, paring it with pink rhinestones. Your initials brandished the side once you finished.

Matty had done the same, even if the letters were a bit crooked. M.H was glued hastily onto the side of his, some of the rhinestones barely hanging on. He smiled at you as you swapped lighters, now holding his.

It looked exactly like the one you had destroyed. A shiver crept up your spine, memories of that night flashing into your mind. The pure rage you had felt, watching the plastic splinter off onto the pavement. The images of Matty plaguing you.

But that was before. Before he had kissed you. You felt differently now, but still, a feeling of unease spread through your body as you flicked it on and off, watching the flame dissipate.

His hand was touching your, he was saying your name

You look up, your eyes meeting his. He smiles.

“Do you like it? I tried my best to make it not look like shit,” his voice was timid, a hint of insecurity could be heard. “I love it,” you assure him, putting the lighter into your pocket.

“Do you like yours? I know they are not the manliest of colors, but-”

“I love it because you made it, that's all that matters,” he cut you off, his thumb tracing the back of your hand.

You feel your heart flutter at his words, doing backflips in your chest.

He pulled out his red cigarette case, pulling out a baggie filled with weed. The two of you had promised to stay sober today, but you nodded as he asked you if you wanted to smoke. You get out your papes and filters, rolling it for him.

He had stopped making comments, instead watching you lick the spliff closed with such an intensity, you thought you would catch on fire. His eyes bore into you as you lit up, and you hand it to him to take the first drag. How the tables have turned

His lips wrap around the filter, breathing in deeply, letting the sensation take over his body. He hands it to you, his hands shaking slightly. Your lipstick rubs off on the spliff, painting the filter with a red rim.

You hold each other, sitting on the park bench, passing the joint back and forth for what felt like hours, until it dwindled out. The streetlamps had come on, one flickering on and off in the distance. The moon peaked out though the clouds, the blue light only making him look more beautiful.

You observed his face, his eyes drooping slightly as the high took over him. He let out deep breaths, his chest rising and falling slowly. Your fingers were intertwined, his hands felt warm against your skin. Every so often, he would twitch slightly against you.

The sun had almost set, barely even there as night took over the sky. The people in the park had gone home, only the occasional dog walker passing by you, quietly saying hello.

“What are we?” his voice pierced through your heart, making it bleed into your chest.

“I dont know.” you answer, pulling him closer. You stayed like that, your bodies melding together until you both fell asleep, his soft snores filling the empty park

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“I just got off the phone with Ross, he wants to hang at their place.” you shout up the stairs. Matty was in the shower, the hot water steaming up the glass of the mirror.

“Sure, we haven't been over there in a while, innit? It’d be nice to have us all in one place again,” he answers, his voice amplified through the echo of the shower.

You were draped across his couch, watching the news. The TV spokesperson droned on, boring you half to death with stock market statistics. You switch it off, sighing as you got up. Opening the door to the bathroom, you see Matty standing in front of you. A grey towel hung low on his waist, barely hanging on. Your breath hitches at the sight.

“Yeah?” he asks, shaving cream covering his face and neck. Jesus Christ.

“I need to do my makeup, move.” you shove him out of the way, riffling through his bathroom drawer, looking for the makeup bag you had left there. Sure enough, you find it, the red material sticking out like a sore thumb amongst the towels and colognes filling the space.

You start doing your eyes, lining your waterline with a deep blue. Matty continues shaving next to you, nearly nicking his skin more than once. You make eye contact in the mirror multiple times, blushing as you look away. God, you're so pathetic.

He scoots past you and makes his way towards his room, presumably to go and change. The urge to follow him is strong, but you stay in your current position, looking at him as he walks away. You hear the bedroom door close, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. Finishing up your routine, you go back downstairs and sit on the couch, waiting for Matty. He takes an oddly long time, and you can hear him shuffling around in his room. You wonder what he's doing, absentmindedly playing with the posh table decor his mother had set on the table.

Eventually, deciding he's taking too long, you walk over to the window located in his kitchen and crack it open. Lighting your cigarette, your eyes travel up and down the street. Children ride by on their bikes, their older siblings chasing after them. The occasional family walks by, waving hello at you before returning to their conversation. You ash into the sink.

A little girl makes eye contact with you. She reminds you of yourself, eyes full of innocence and naïveté, her rose colored dress blowing in the wind. You take a drag of your cigarette, watching as she walks by.

“You ready?” a voice says behind you, making you jump, almost banging your head against the wall you were leaning against. You turn around, seeing Matty in front of you. He has your jumper on, the red one. It's freshly washed and pressed, paired with a blue pair of loose fitting jeans. His hair is messy as always, the blonde highlights sticking out, framing his face.

“You need to start giving me my clothes back,” you say, gesturing to his top.

“Only if you cough up mine,” he says with a laugh, pointing at your pants. They were, in fact, his.

“Touché.” you shrug, walking past him, grabbing his wrist to pull him after you. Throwing your cigarette into the trash, the both of you put on your shoes.

It's sunny outside, and you can see Matty sweating in his your jumper, but you don't say anything. You stop by the corner shop on your way there, buying a pack of fags for Matty.

The cashier tucks her hair behind her ears as the both of you walk up to the counter to pay. He asks for parliaments, and she hands them to him

“That’ll be 6 quid,” leaving the sentence open “and your number?” she asks him, batting her eyelashes. The question makes you freeze, eyes on Matty. It seems to take him by surprise, he sucks in a deep breath before opening his mouth to speak:

“Nah, that's alright, this is my girl right here,” he takes your hand, lifting it up. His girl. You nod timidly, and the girl apologizes. “You're so cute together,” she comments, giving you the fakest smile you've ever seen. You shoot one back.

“Jesus, sorry mate, didn't want to let her down too hard. Soz for using you as a cover.” A cover? Was that what that was?

“No big thing, glad my gender could be of service,” you try to sound unbothered, grinning at him the best you can. Your heart deflated in your chest, a weight crushing down on it. You were his mate, not his girl. That was clear now.

The rest of the walk is spent with headphones in your ears. Micheal Jackson's “Bad” played, drowning out your thoughts.

The hallway leading to the flat is cold, the white marble almost too white, like it had been recently cleaned. Matty bangs on the door, yelling at Ross to open up. He does.

“Jesus Matty, there's this thing called a doorbell-” “Stop fucking me off and let us in,” Matty pushes past a very offended Ross, stalking into the livingroom. You trail behind him, seeing George come into your line of sight.

Your breath hitches. This is the first time you’ve seen him since that night. He looked uncomfortable, eyes darting around the room. It smells clean in the flat, and you assume Hann had had another one of his cleaning frenzies.

Adam’s sitting on the sofa, and so was george. They looked tense. Matty was in the kitchen making himself a cup of tea. You sit down next to Hann, watching Ross make himself comfortable on the giant sofa chair. The air is thick, full of something you can't recognise.

“Matty, can you maybe sit down?” Adam says, his voice deep and tired. He obliges, sitting down on the edge of the sofa chair next to Ross. Mattys hand holds the mug of tea, tapping his fingers against the ceramic. George is fidgety next to you, rolling and unrolling his sleeves, letting out uncomfortable coughs every few seconds. You narrow your eyes, cocking your eyebrow at him. He shakes his head.

“We know you’ve been using,” Hann’s voice cuts through the silence. Mattys head perks up.

“Blow? Seriously?”

“What about it?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. Fuck. Matty clears his throat before speaking.

“What she said– what does it matter? It's just blow, nothing special. Everyones on it, y’know.” His voice comes out rough, deep.

“Its fucking horrible, how can you do that to yourselves?” The question comes from George. He told them

“You fucking told them? Are you taking the absolute piss?” you sound harsh, he looks at you with wide eyes. Matty laughs maniacally, setting down his mug on the coffee table. The tea sloshes onto the glass, dirtying it.

“Ohh- I get what this is-” he looks at you, shaking his head. “This, my love,” he gestures to the three men sitting around you “Is their pathetic attempt at an intervention.” You scoff, looking at Ross, who confirms his statement.

“We’re worried about you two, just– “ Matty walks over to you, cutting him off. You get up, nodding at him in silent agreement. You needed to get the fuck out of here. Now.

“Youre all a bunch of fucking tossers, what do you care what we do? It doesn't affect you!”

George speaks up: “Of course it affects us, you're our best mates, for fucks sake.” His voice trails off, seeing you ignore him made his heart hurt. What did they know? They shouldn't fucking talk about things they had no clue about.

“Fuck you guys, honestly,” Matty spat, his eyes full of hatred “C’mon love, they probably don’t want two dirty junkies in their living room, hm?” You're already at the door, pushing it open. Hann yells after you, but you ignore him. Absolute asshole, staging an intervention like you were lost addicts. Fuck him.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------

You're back at Matty's place. You don't talk about what happened in the flat, you just hold each other. He had switched both of your phones off on the walk back. Adam was calling both of you like a crazy ex, begging you to come back and talk. You ignore him.

The curtains are drawn closed, painting the room in darkness. The only light is coming from the TV neither of you is paying attention to.

“D’you fancy a line?” he asks, grinning down at you. You agree, getting off of him. He cuts two lines, letting you snort yours as he watches. It hits you like a truck, the feeling of pure euphoria. How can something that was ‘bad for you’ be this good? It made no sense. You mentally curse at Adam for trying to act like your parent. He had no fucking right.

Matty started deeply into your eyes as you climbed back on top of him, straddling his lap. Once again, there's purple glitter around his eyes, shimmering in the light of the TV. He smirks at you provocatively, locking your lips with his. He kisses you with passion, moving his lips in sync with yours. He pulls away.

“You,” he starts, punctuating the word with a kiss to the edge of your mouth “are a work of art.”

You smile at his words, threading your hand into his hair, tugging hard. He whimpers into your mouth, twitching beneath you.

“You're hard.” you state, pressing a kiss to his jaw, biting down. He moans again, arching his back.

“I–,” he starts, interrupted by your hand reaching down and squeezing him through his pants. He pulses in your hand, begging. Another pathetic whine, his hips buck into your hand.

An idea pops into your head, and you slowly get off of him. He protests, his eyes watching you stand up next to him. He looks so beautiful like this, breathing heavily and painfully hard.

“I want you to touch yourself for me, Matthew." You can see him twitch as the words leave your lips.

"Go on, give me a show.”

Chapter Text

“....what?” he sounds surprised, eyes looking up at you, brows furrowed.

“Go on, you heard perfectly well.”

He smirks, seeing right through you. The composure was all a façade, the pink blush on your cheeks giving you away.

His hand reaches down, lingering over his stomach. He winks at you knowingly.

Delicate fingertips ghost over the head of his cock, and he squeezes himself, letting out a high pitched moan as he did. He was giving you what you wanted. A show.

He continued his movements, stroking himself slowly, never once breaking eye contact. His breathing speeds up, his noises get louder. You can tell he’s getting close. Sitting down on the glass coffee table, you watch him intently.

“That feel good?” you ask, your voice shaking in pure desperation

“Mhhm– felt much better when it was your hand instead of mine,” he answers, slowing down.

He stops completely, sitting up. “Let me make you feel good,” his voice is low, seductive almost. “I promise I'm good,” he bites his lip at you. Good god, he was going to kill you.

He moves down, flipping over on his stomach, patting the space now infront of him. Your eyes widen at his insinuation, your lower belly doing all sorts on somersaults under your skin. The room feels much hotter now.

“Are you–?” “Yes, I am. Let me make you feel good, please,” Your breath hitches at his words, and you can feel yourself melt. Scrambling up, almost knocking over a glass, you sit down in front of him. You're wearing jeans, the material bunching up towards the bottom as you shuffle around on the leather.

The look he gives you is delicious, his eyes raking up and down your frame. You were still wearing clothes, but Matty was quick to take care of that. His hands moved to your belt, undoing it with fervour, slowly pulling them down your thighs. Discarding them in a corner, he turns to your underwear, a simple black number. A bow adorned the front, he moaned at the sight.

“Is this okay?” He asked, his fingers toying with the waistband of your panties. You could hear the desperation in his voice. You nod.

He presses a chaste kiss to your knee, his hands holding your legs spread. The anticipation is almost too much as he trails his kisses further up, nibbling at the skin of your thigh. Deep, purple marks littered the inside of them. A reminder.

He mouths at the material of your panties before slipping them down. He stuffs them into the pocket of his jeans, smirking at your reaction. Licking a thick stripe down your centre, you can't help but gasp at the sensation, losing a hand in his hair.

He speeds up, tongue toying with your clit. Losing yourself in the pleasure, you look down, a messy head of curls directly in your view. This was really happening.

His movements seem irregular, his tongue darting over your clit in patterns. You focus a bit, your eyes widening at the realisation. He was spelling something. His name.

You let out a pathetic moan, feeling him grin against your core.

M-A-T-T-Y.

Another moan, but this time, it didn't come from you. Matty was painfully hard beneath you, gripping your thighs for leverage. You watch him as he grinds into the sofa, groaning at the friction. He was getting off on this.

Both of your noises filled the air, and you grip his curls tighter, grinding down onto his face. He lets you use him for your pleasure, never once pulling back. You could feel the elastic band in your core tightening, getting ready to snap at any second.

“G-god Matty– fuck,” you try to warn him, clenching around nothing. He nods, not daring to pull away. His tongue never lets up, instead speeding up against you, bringing you to the edge. One particularly quick spell of his name pushed you over it.

Your legs shake in his grip, and you were sure there were going to be Matty shaped bruises on your thighs later. You moaned, the thought only intensifying your orgasm. You hear a whimper escape his lips, the vibrations of his mouth overstimulating you.

He doesnt stop until you push him off, whining at the loss of contact. He looks up at you from between your legs, his eyes glossy and chin covered in your slick. Before you could stop yourself, you reach over to your bag that was sitting on the floor next to the sofa.

Matty looks at you confused, raising his eyebrows. God, he looked beautiful like this, a thin layer of sweat sticking to his skin. Pulling out your camera, you snap two photos of him, catching him off guard. The flash shutters in his face, the light capturing his eyes perfectly.

He smiles at the camera for the second photo. He looked fucked out, raw.

“Good?” he asks, a sly grin replacing the innocent smile on his face.

“10 out of 10, would recommend to a friend” you answer cheekily, smiling down at him

“Now get up here so I can return the favour–” you try to scoot down, but he stops you. An embarrassed look spread across his face.

“You don't have to– I already, uhm…” he trails off, gesturing to the damp spot on the front of his jeans. Your eyes widen, snapping up to meet him. His face was flushed a deep shade of red, and he avoided your gaze. He had come in his pants, just from eating you out.

The realisation dawned on you, and you pulled him up on top to lay on you, pressing light kisses all over his face. He squirms under your touch, his expression still slightly ashamed.

“Is that weird? I'm sorry for–” you cut him off, planting a hot kiss directly onto his lips.

“Don't apologise, that was..” you kiss him again, moaning into his mouth. “insanely hot.”

A look of relief washed over his face, and he finally kisses you back. The two of you lay like that, in each other's arms, basking in the afterglow.

One question plagues your mind. The same question he had asked you.

“What are we?”

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

As you were nearing the end of the school year, attendance had become more of a suggestion rather than a must. Skipping numerous lessons, you had been spending your days wandering around the city, smoking, talking, listening to music.

Today was different. Matty himself had suggested that you go to your lessons. This took you by surprise. Matty? Going to school? Willingly? You scoff at first, thinking he was joking.

“Nah, seriously, we haven't been in a while. It’d be nice to see what Mr. Henderson has been up to.” you simply shrug, turning around to walk in the direction of the bus stop. The air was thick and humid, and you were sweating under the blazing sun. The bus had come slightly late, forcing you to sit down on the sticky, and quite hot, metal bench.

You and Matty shared a cig, passing it back and forth while staring off into the distance. The inside of the bus was even hotter, the heat starting to get to you. You were clad in a thin white tank top paired with a pair of Mattys basketball shorts.

“We really have to start wearing our own clothes.” you remark, gesturing at Matty, who was wearing one of your shirts over his iconic black skinny jeans. He shakes his head, offering a snide remark.

“We both know I wear your clothes much better than you do, darling,” His smirk was wiped off his face the moment you smacked him upside the head. You sigh contentedly, turning to face the glass of the window. The sun was blinding, reflecting off of every available surface right into your eyes.

The bus came to a screeching halt, and the two of you staggered off of it, Matty almost tripping over the gap between the exit and the floor. You laugh at him, being met with an annoyed glare. The inside of the school was much cooler, the school having invested a bit of money into an air conditioning system. It was more for the staff rather than the students, but you were thankful nonetheless.

Mr. Henderson had glared at the both of you when you walked in, saying something about you finally deciding to show up. You were in your graduating year, and most of your other grades had turned out fine, so you rolled your eyes, looking for a table to sit at.

You're met with George, who was sitting at your usual table. He smiled at you, motioning for you to come sit. Matty is hesitant at first, but reluctantly agrees to sit down. You haven't spoken to George, Adam, or Ross since that day, ignoring Hann’s incessant phone calls to come and talk.

“Hey guys, you well?” George asks, a smile plastered onto his face. Matty offers a murmur, while you answer him, saying you're both doing alright. You were aware Matty was acting like a grade A dickhead, but he did have a good reason.

There's about 20 minutes left in the lesson when George decides to speak again. His voice makes you sad, the pain in it evident. He missed you, and you missed him too.

“I know you're pissed off, but you have to answer Hann’s calls. He’s worried sick and won't stop pestering me about it.”

“He’s not our mother, neither are you. Tell him to go fuck himself, will you?” Matty says, not looking at him, instead eyeing a poster hung at the back of the room. You give him an apologetic look, telling him you’ll think about it. It was a shit move, ambushing the two of you like that. You still didn’t agree with them at all, but in the end, they were still your best mates.

The bell rings, and Matty jumps up, booking it to the door. You shoot George another look before following Matty out the classroom.

“I'm knackered, can we go back to my place?” you nod, hooking your arm in with his, letting yourself be led down the hallway. A teacher stops you, asking where you're going.

“We’re fucking off and going home, thanks for caring!” Matty yells before strolling past her. You giggle at his boldness. Matty was always like that towards figures of authority, mentally spitting in their face with every word that left his mouth.

You had gotten an invite to a house party later that day, showing it to Matty. He agreed, wanting to go as well. You knew Ruby would be there as well. The two of you had become close friends, even exchanging numbers at some point. She was sweet, always greeting you with a hug and a kiss. Her red hair had inspired you to put some peek-a-boos in yours, showing her with an air of pride.

You didn't know whose party it was, only that it was hosted by a girl from your form. The house was in a nicer neighbourhood, mostly inhabited by bankers or lawyers.

The two of you got ready for the party together, correlating your outfits. You’d been told the theme was ‘late 80s’.

Music was blaring in the background, some of Mattys' pretentious ambient stuff. You had hung up fairy lights in his room, which was now technically your room as well. You’d been spending so much time at his place, your stuff littered the floor and drawers.

He was begging you to do his makeup for him, stating he was too shit to do it properly. You reluctantly agree, dabbing light blue eyeshadow onto a brush, lightly applying it to the lids of his eyes. The theme was the 80s, after all.

You had chosen a green dress, thin layers falling over each other. It was slightly shorter in the front, and longer in the back. No sleeves, the plunge was deep enough that you had decided to skip the bra, knowing it would show. Your hair was teased and curled, styled into a classic eighties updo. Your makeup matched with Mattys once again, although the blue around your eyes lacked the intense amount of glitter Matty had put on his.

His outfit was a purple two-piece suit, which you were pretty sure was a halloween costume originally. The sequins stood out against his pale skin, seeing as he decided to forgo a shirt underneath it all. Classic Matty.

His nipple piercing was on display, the sight of it making memories of that night flash through your mind. The way he had hissed at the pain at first before the sound morphed into a high pitched moan. The other nipple was yet to be pierced. You felt like you owned him in a way, the jewellery symbolising that. You're snapped out of your trance when Matty pulls out his red cigarette case.

The two of you do a line before the party, deciding it would be enough to get you through the night. Locking the door behind you, you walked to the bus stop not far away, arriving far too early. He offers you a cigarette, which you gladly accept. You were smoking a lot more these days, your habit becoming rather expensive.

You breathe out the smoke into the warm summer night air. His arms wraps around you, squeezing your waist. You lean into him, breathing in the scent of his cologne. It was musky, inherently masculine. Crickets chirped in the background, the sound oddly comforting. The bus had come late, its doors opening with an ear piercing shriek.

The seats are fairly empty, given it was late at night. He leads you to the back, laying you onto his chest across the seats. The bus rumbles softly underneath you. You feel at peace

The music was loud, with you being able to hear almost a whole street away. The house was filled with people from surrounding schools, with kids hanging out on the terrace and in the garden, drinking out of various different glasses and mugs.

Inside was even worse, the place crawling with people. The music was shit, some generic club and pop beats. You didn't care, you were here to dance the night away with Matty, to forget the stupid fight with the boys.

The drink table was littered with dozens of bottles of liquor, most of them empty. You had gotten there quite late, it almost being 11pm. Matty strolled over to the cabinet, taking out two mugs from the middle shelf.

He pours you a mystery concoction consisting of rum, tequila and a random mixer he had found on the ground next to the kitchen counter. It tasted awful, but it did the trick. You wince when you take the first sip, seeing matty do the same.

“Fuckin hell this tastes like someone wrung out a pair of knickers, jesus Matty,” he just shrugs, downing the rest of his drink, disappearing into the crowd. You follow him, you hand finding his in the chaos.

Spotting a group of people you knew, Matty dragged you to them. Matty immediately takes over the conversation, talking about the time a bartender refused to serve him because he looked quote un-quote “too gay”. Laughter roars from the group, and you can tell he’s basking in the attention. Glancing around the room, you try to find Ruby. You hadn't seen her in a while, not having heard anything from her either.

You hear Matty announce his needing a bathroom break, not-so-politely excusing himself from the group. After he leaves, one of the guys offers to make you another drink, noting your cup was empty. You accept. The table had been cleared off by now, being replaced with more alcohol.

He starts pouring liquids from various bottles into your mug, making friendly conversation. You couldn't for the life of you remember his name, so you just nodded along to his unfunny jokes. God, where was matty when you needed him

This one tasted much better, a delicious blend of nice vodka and cranberry juice. You thank him, flashing him a smile. Both of you make your return to the group, but you don't see Matty. So you ask directions to the bathroom. You're informed that there are, in fact, three (3) bathrooms throughout the house. You groan, making your way to the one nearest to you.

Opening it, you see a couple passionately making love against the sink. Profusely apologise, you slam the door shut as quickly as possible, turning around to head to the stairs. You can feel a pit of unease settling itself into the pit of your stomach. Matty was never gone for this long, most of the time you could peel him from your side if you tried.

You walk up to the bathroom next to the stairs, shoving past a sea of drunk people casually sitting on the stairs, nursing their drinks. Cursing under your breath, you nearly trip over an abandoned beer bottle on the last step.

The chipped paint of the wooden door seems to blur as the world starts to move in slow motion. Your hand touches the door handle, pushing it open. You feel your heart drop as you lay your eyes on Matty.

He’d half-hazardly propped himself up against the wall, yet he's still slouching. The blinding light of the bathroom makes it hard to see. You focus on the colour of the carpet, an ugly brown, before your eyes snap back up to Matty. It's only then you see the needle sticking out of his arm.

The room starts to spin around you, your lungs not able to take in a deep breath. A needle. His jacket was discarded on the floor next to him, the purple sequins shimmering under the cold light. He mumbles something, his eyes finding yours.

You scramble to get to him, slamming the door shut behind you. No one else is allowed to see him like this. Carefully, you pull the needle out of his elbow, gently placing it on the ground next to you. You're terrified, so you shake him. He’s conscious, you gather.

You can't see properly, the world blurring around you. He says something unintelligible, too strung out to even speak properly.

“Fuck, what did you do?” your voice shakes as you pat him down instinctively, making sure he doesn't have anymore dope on him. He comes up clean, and you sigh in relief.

“You gotta try this shit…it's… mad” his voice is small, barely audible.

“Heroin? Matty– fuck you can’t pull shit like this..” the site of the injection is bleeding, the blood trailing down his arm. You reach for a towel hanging on a rack, pressing it to his arm.

His head lolls from one side to the other before he properly looks up at you.

“Man... I'm so fucking high- I think I might love you, honest.” he slurs, his other hand coming up to stroke your face. He smiles. Jesus. Your heart flips at the statement.

“Stop talking.. just stop” you can feel tears well up in your eyes. This is too much, everything is too much.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The morning light shines through the curtains, illuminating. You haven't slept all night. The walk home had been a hard one, Matty wasn't light. You had carried him home, flung over your shoulder, stopping to let him throw up multiple times.

He just walked into his room, closing the door. Like nothing happened. It was 2 in the morning when you finally sat down, letting it all out. Near-silent sobs echoed through the massive living room, bouncing off the walls. You haven't cried like this since that night three years ago. The night you met Matty.

Having chainsmoked a pack and a half of cigarettes, now it was your time to throw up in the sink. Wiping your mouth clean, you took a drink from the tap.

It was about 8 am when Matty finally walked out of his room, sitting down onto the sofa. The silence between the two of you is loud, like a ringing in your ears.

“You can't do that ever again Matty, you hear?” Your voice is strong, clear. You had been rehearsing what you were going to say to him all night, thinking up an entire monologue, quoting every drug prevention flyer you had ever laid eyes on. But that was all that came out. That was enough.

“I know,” he answers quietly, his eyes meeting yours.

You sit like that, for hours, holding each other like the world was crashing around you. It sure did feel like it was.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

// July 2008, two weeks later //

The two of you were once again walking down a dangerously busy highway, flipping off every car that dared to honk at you. The hot sun was beating down onto your skin, and you could feel yourself start to burn.

He’s holding your hand. Not hooking his arm into yours like he usually did, but properly holding your hand. You gush inwardly at the feeling of his palm against yours, your fingers intertwining with each other.

You decide to stop at an ice cream truck, a rarity around these parts of the city. The truck is white, the side being plastered with a wide variety of different ice cream choices. The two of you stand there for a good five minutes, deciding on what to buy.

“There’s so many choices, innit? Who even takes the time to dream up this many flavours!” His voice is loud, angelic laughter filling your ears. You respond with a hum and a squeeze of his hand.

He's covered in this giant black david bowie shirt, it almost reaching his knees. It's endearing, seeing him being swallowed up by the shirt. He eventually settles on a bubblegum flavoured popsicle, pointing at the picture like an excited child. You choose a generic two scoop vanilla ice cream cone, smiling at the vendor as he hands it to you.

You take your wallet out of your bag to pay, but his hand swats yours away.

“I have to regain some sort of status now, can't have you spoilin me too much.” he says with a wink, pulling out a wad of cash from his pocket, handing it to the vendor. The truck is elevated off the ground, so he has to lift himself onto his toes.

He stretches his arm out to give the man the money, causing his sleeve the ride up his arm. That's when you notice it. Track marks. Fresh ones.

“What the fuck Matty.” you grab his arm, causing him to drop both of your ice creams onto the ground. He winces at your touch, retching his arm out of your grasp. He’s too weak, and you pull him closer to get a better look. They were definitely fresh, recent.

A pang of betrayal spreads its way through your body. He had promised you. He had sworn to you he would never touch it again. He lied to you.

“I can explain-” he starts, sucking in a deep breath. “Ruby was just the-” “Ruby gave it to you? Our Ruby? Jesus, i didnt think she was also-” you cut yourself off, feeling tears roll down your cheek. God, could it get any worse.

You take a step back, giving Matty a once over. The look in your eyes was one of pure hatred, and he recognised it. He had lied to your face. He never lied, you never lied to each other, ever.

“Im so sorry- I just..” he trails off, hiding his arms behind his back. He was ashamed, you could tell. He felt small under your eye, shrinking even smaller. “You don't understand, you can't possibly-”

“Don't speak to me, Matthew.” you see his expression change. Sadness. Hurt. How could he look at you like that when he was the one who betrayed you? He broke your trust, not the other way around. You were properly crying now, hot tears staining your face. His eyes looked at you, begging, pleading with you.

You turn around, leaving him standing. Leaving him.

The lighter is heavy in your hands, you can feel the rhinestones under your fingertips, taunting you. It was the lighter he had gifted you, his initials scrawled on the side.

Lighting a cigarette, you don't look back.

Chapter Text

It hurts

Everything hurts. This impossible pain that was eating you alive from the inside out. You missed him, it was like a part of you had been ripped out of you. Since the day you met you hadn't spent more than two or three days apart, and even that was by force of either his parents or yours.

You kept replaying that day in your mind. The way he had looked at you, his eyes wide and teary, begging you to let him explain. Maybe you should have stayed, made him tell you exactly what had happened. What made it all worse was that Ruby was a part of all this. She had given it to him in the first place, the thought made your stomach churn.

The past few days had been spent laying in your bed, curled up in a ball under dirty covers. He had lied to you. The lights were dim, barely illuminating the numerous piles of plates that littered the surfaces in your room. Your mother had tried multiple times to get you out of bed, but you just ignored her, not being able to find the strength.

Hann had come over, meeting your mother in the process. She had directed him to your room, saying something about your boyfriend leaving you. Completely false, since you hadn't said anything to her. She liked to assume things, taking on whatever narrative helped her feel better.

The door creaked open, light flooding the otherwise dark room.

His hand brushed against your arm as he sat down at the foot of your bed, his eyes filled with worry. You didn't speak at first, refusing to make eye contact. It hurt too much.

“Darling, where is Matty?” The pet name made your heart wrench, reminding you of him. The pit in your stomach just dug itself deeper, and it felt like a thousand knives were stabbing into you always.

You shrug your shoulders, honestly not knowing where he was. Matty had called and called, texting you hundreds of times begging you to talk to him. By the second day, you had already switched off your phone, chucking into a corner, forgotten.

“No one knows where he is, George is having a proper meltdown.” he continues, his voice slightly shaky, the anxiety in it evident. He tells you how they had tried his house, and it turning up empty. Mattys parents were away, and nobody knew how to get ahold of them.

“Adam.” was all you could muster, not having spoken in days. The creak of the bed is deafening as you turn around to face him, looking up. “He..” your voice cracks, tears welling up in your eyes.

“...he did something. Heroin.” you manage to finish your sentence before breaking out into tears again, clutching his arm. “He promised he wouldnt do it again.” the sound of Mattys voice filled your mind, broken promises and lies.

“I believed him.” you force out, your eyes pleading with Hann to say something.

“Jesus Christ, are you serious?” The question is rhetorical. He knows.

The day is spent with Adam comforting you through crying fits and feelings of blame, even bringing you water and food.

You ask for a spliff, that being the only thing you knew would calm your nerves. Not having done anything else since your fight with Matty, you were starting to feel small symptoms of withdrawal. Cold sweat, dizziness, you had even thrown up once or twice into the bin next to your desk.

Hann, like the angel he is, pulls out a baggie of weed, rolling you a spliff. You ask him to open the window to let the smoke out, not quite in the mood for a hotbox. He obliges, and the warm air that is let into the room feels nice. The light helps too, letting you see the absolute state your room was in.

The haze of the weed calms you down, your crying down to only silent tears rolling down your face as Adam tries to speak to you. You don't listen, his voice sounds distorted and far away. At some point, he gets up to leave, telling you to switch on your phone. When you don't react, he searches for it, finding it underneath a pile of clothes. Turning it on, he sets it onto the nightstand, pressing a comforting kiss to your forehead as the door closes behind him.

You were alone.

With the spliff almost down to the filter, you chuck it into the rubbish, noticing Adam had cleared the vomit from it. It dwindles out, burning a small whole into the plastic of the fresh bin bag. Staring at the wall for what felt like an eternity, you hear your phone start to ring.

You think it's Adam calling, making sure you were eating the sandwich he had made you, so you pick up, not bothering to look at the ID. The receiver picks up only silence for the first few seconds of the call, then heavy breaths fill your ears. Matty.

Your heart jumps at the sound of him breathing on the other end of the line, dread filling you instantly. Something was wrong, you could feel it.

“I-'' he cuts himself off, a laboured groan leaving his lips. “I don't..”

Something starts in you, and you jump to your feet. Eyes darting around the room to locate your keys, you tug your shoes on while holding the phone between your ear and shoulder.

“Where are you?” you say, trying to remain calm. “Matty, where the fuck are you.” you repeat, your voice sounding more urgent.

His answer is barely audible, but you understand.

“I'm at Carolines..- please- I can't..” the line goes dead, the dial tone as loud as sirens in your head.

You push past your mother, ignoring her requests to know where you're going. This wasn't the time, you had to get to him, now.

You were never particularly athletic, always opting to cut P.E in favour of smoking a spliff behind the bushes with one George or Matty. Breathing heavily, you sprint down the street towards the old paper factory, dodging cars and people like it was an olympic sport.

Out of breath and sweaty, the last bolt up the flight of stairs leading to the terrace was difficult, your legs almost giving out on you multiple times. The door to the platform was already open when you finally made it to the top.

Your heart stops when you see curls peeking out from the side of the sofa, falling limply over the material of the armrest. A soft groan echoes through the air, pained and tired.

The sight of him will be burned into your mind until the day you die. Matty is half laying half sitting on the cushions, an old pillow holding him up, his skin deathly pale, even more so than usual. Tears run down his face, track marks littering the inside of his forearms.

“I’m- i’m s-so sorry, I didn't-” his words are weak, still coming from a very bad high. You start to take care of him, just like you did in that bathroom all those weeks ago. The needle is still in his arm, dirty and used, he winces when you pull it out, chucking it off of the balcony.

“We need to- you need help, Matty, I'm serious.” His eyes widen at your statement, his free hand reaching up to grab you. “P-please, don't call anyone.” he starts, visibly shaking. “I dont- i just want you.. no one else.” he’s scared. You've never seen him scared before, the fear visible on his face.

“Just hold still, let me-” You have no experience in cleaning wounds of any kind, but you try your best, finding a pack of tissues in your bag, wiping down his arm.

His hands are still shaking, and they feel cold to the touch. It breaks your heart to see him like this, scared and cold, not knowing what to do.

“Please don't tell anyone.'' He forces the words out of his mouth, making eye contact with you.

“I won't. But this is the last time.” you answer, stroking his upper arm comfortingly. He looks wrecked, dark circles under his eyes, hair obviously unwashed. He was wearing the same clothes he was when you last saw him

“Do you have anything else on you?” you ask, holding out your hand. You weren't letting him do this again. Never again.

He nods, taking a kit out of his pocket. Inside, another needle, a spoon, and a small baggie. Taking it out of his hands, you walk over to the edge of the terrace, shaking the sandy coloured substance out onto the street, letting it fly into the wind to disappear.

The needle was broken in two, also thrown over the edge of the terrace. Gone

Matty let out soft groans as he moved to properly lay down, asking you to sit with him. You do, lowering yourself onto the ground next to the sofa, your hand reaching up to stroke his face. His tears still stream down his face, and you wipe them away, smiling at him.

“I'm moving in with you.”

“I missed you.”

Both of you spoke at the same time, your voices overlapping. He raises his eyebrows at you, words forming in his mouth before dying.

“Okay.” he nods, accepting your decision.

“I’ve told Hann. We’re getting you clean, I don't care if you want to or not.”

“Okay.”

Silence

“I love you.” the words slip out of your mouth, hitting him just as hard as they did you. He squeezes your hand, leaning down for a kiss. He doesn't say it back. The two of you sit there, staring into each other's eyes. Mattys breathing becomes more regular, and so do his pupils.

“Don't do that ever again, please.” your voice is small, audibly shaking.

“I won't.” a wave of deja vu washes over you

He won't.

What are we?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Fuck you are! You're not going anywhere” your mothers shrill voice pierces your ears, and you shake your head. Packing your things, you walked around grabbing the remaining clothes out of your wardrobe, stuffing them into a suitcase.

Your mother had tried to stop you, but she couldn't. Having turned 18 a while ago, you were free to go wherever you pleased. Mattys house was already filled with a bunch of your stuff, and you had been sleeping over there more often than in your own bed. What was the difference?

“If you leave now, you're not my daughter anymore.” she said quietly, almost expectantly.

You roll your eyes.

“Never really was, was I?” that was all you needed to say. All you've been wanting to say for years. Her eyes widen, and you turn around as the hurt spreads onto her face.

The door shuts with a loud bang, the sound echoing through the neighbourhood.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The days dragged by as Matty became more and more restless, making it entirely your problem. No amount of weed could calm him down, jittery and shaking. The itch was there for you as well, albeit not as strong as Mattys, who was close to crying by the looks of it.

But he had promised you, and was intending to keep said promise even if it was extremely uncomfortable, the headache that was spread throughout his head wasn't helping either.

The two of you had spent the day in each other's arms, a blanket draped over you. The TV was quiet, the lights flickering over Mattys face softly as he pulled your lips into a firm kiss.

‘What are we?’

You push the thought out of your head, letting yourself be kissed. His hand drew small circles onto the side of your arm, ever so often stopping to lightly pinch at the skin, making you jump. You felt his smile against your lips, the feeling only comparable to some sort of divinity. It was soft moments like these that made you forget everything else. The fighting, the drugs, the others.

You had called Hann, letting him know that you and Matty needed space. Withholding most details, like the state you had found him in, you assure him of Mattys wellbeing, stating “He’s going through it, but I've got it under control. Denise doesn't know, and don't tell her when she comes back.” His mother was set to make a return sometime in the next couple months, you overheard her tell Matty on the phone.

The kiss deepens, with Matty attempting to slip his tongue into your mouth, and you let him. Since this started happening, it had always been you that had control of the situation, not letting him even get a taste of power before pushing him down, telling him to “Be good for me, yeah? I'll give you what you want, just…”

His hand threads itself in your hair, and you gasp at the slight tug he gives it. The look in his eye when you finally glance up makes your breath hitch. Pupils completely blown out, he looks at you with an expression that can only be described as pure lust.

He pulls away for a split second, his eyes asking you a silent question. You nod.

Immediately, his hands are occupied with pushing your shirt up, hands palming your tits, and you feel rough calluses against your skin, making you moan. It seems like all of the oxygen had been sucked out of the room when he pressed a searing hot kiss onto your ribs, slowly working his way to run his tongue across your peaked nipple, making your back arch back into him.

He lets out a low, almost animalistic groan as you grind against him, your hips rolling onto his steadily growing erection. A flicker of pride flashed through you at the thought of you being the reason he was worked up after a few kisses and a look. You smile, raking a hand through his hair as he kisses down your stomach, quickly stopping him before he could go and lower.

“Can we switch?” you ask, batting your eyelashes, a faux innocent expression. He nods vigorously, letting you climb on top of him.

The look he gave you when you started to grind down onto him is priceless, wide eyes and parted lips staring back at you. You kiss down his neck, leaving aggressive hickeys in your wake, marking him up. He adjusts underneath you, and you reach a hand up to his chest, raking your hand over the expanse of it. The nipple piercing catches your eye, the black metal almost shimmering in the light.

“O-oh my go- fuckk-” his moans fill the air when you tug on it, a sharp pain reverberating through his body, and you feel him twitch against your leg. Your teeth find the piercing, biting down and pulling again, drinking in the noises he makes in response. Hands find his sides, thumbing at his ribs, trying to distract from the pain coming from his chest.

“You want me?” you ask, smugly, seeing his expression rapidly change. He looks blissed out, and you haven't even properly touched him yet. The next words to come out of your mouth make his breath hitch and his hips buck upwards in desperation.

“Want me to suck you off? I promise I'm good.” you mock his words, grinning at him in the same manner he did. The sight of you perched on top of him and your question almost made him cum in his pants, again.

“P-please, i promise i won't touch- just.. please” his voice cracks as he says the last word, morphing into a drawn out moan, the sound going straight to your core.

“But- i want you to get off first.” he never ceases to surprise you, his statement making you perk up, raising an eyebrow at him. “You can, you know..” he vaguely gestures at his thigh, eyes avoiding yours. A laugh escapes you when you realise what he meant, an extremely unsexy snort leaving your lips.

“You want me to.. Seriously? Grind on your thigh?” he cringes at the way you say it, flexing his legs under you. “Well, yeah, you're pretty and I like to.. watch you?” he sounds unsure, like you're about to laugh at him again. The compliment takes you by surprise, butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You don't speak anymore, instead sitting up straight, towering over him. Mattys breathing becomes even more irregular than it already was, his chest rising and falling up and down rapidly.
“Okay, i'll do it.'' Your voice is breathless and small, but his reaction is thankful, hands finding your hips comfortingly. Your fingers toy with the hem of Mattys shirt, which was now pulled back down. He nods, giving you permission to take it off of him, softly moaning as it brushes against his nipple, still sensitive and raw from your previous attack on his chest.

Your lack of pants in the first place helped you settle onto his thigh comfortably, the shirt you had on covering most of you. You could feel his gaze on you, watching your every move. An experimental grind onto his jean-clad thigh made a spark of pleasure lick up your spine, a soft moan leaving your lips as you make eye contact with Matty. He urges you on, hands creeping up to cup your tits again, softer this time.

You grind down harder this time, feeling a dull pleasure spread throughout your body. Matty lets out a quiet groan at the sight of you using him to get off, getting even harder than he thought possible. Speeding up, you settle into a distinct rhythm, your hips ever so slightly guided by Mattys hands resting on them.

“You look so pretty like this.” He sounds genuine, his eyes raking over your body with a look of adoration. You smile, letting out a moan as he tensed his thigh slightly, upping the pressure against your clit. Lowering down to catch his lips in a desperate kiss, you can feel yourself get closer to the edge, Mattys tongue licking into your mouth only spurring you on.

“Fuck- Matty.” you look down, seeing Mattys eyes still on you makes something ignite within you, the rubber band in your core tightening even more. His hands play with your nipples, thumbing at the skin, leaving light kisses on the back of your hand. His expression is sickly sweet, almost cocky. You cup his face, kissing him roughly as you feel yourself throttling towards your orgasm.

A hand finds his cock, firmly palming him through his jeans, making him groan into your mouth. You can feel a wet patch forming on the front of his pants, soaking them with precum. A particularly pathetic moan and skilled twist of your nipple from Matty makes you fall apart on his thigh, legs shaking as you grind your way through your climax.

Your breathing is heavy as you finally come down from your high, Matty jumpy and twitchy underneath you, watching you collect yourself. There's a wet patch on the front of his jeans where you had just been, perfectly matching the one he had caused all by himself.

“Is this all f’me?” you ask, your hand stroking him through the material of his pants, watching him clench his fists at his side. You bat your eyelashes at him again, and he lets out a short string of please’s and begging. The sight in front of you is absolutely delicious, Matty panting and squirming, his curls sticking to his forehead.

“Relax for me baby, let me take care of you.” you coo, watching his reactions closely. He throws his head back, hitting the pillows as he lets out another loud groan. Your hand moves to the zipper of his jeans, slowly unbuttoning them. The tent in his boxers is obvious, his cock straining against the thin material.

Your nails graze against his thigh, digging into the skin. You knew he liked a bit of pain to his pleasure, and you were going to give him just that.

His hand finds your hair as you pull down his boxers, letting his erection spring out. Precum dribbled down the side, coating his cock in a layer of shine. Your hand wraps around him, giving him a light squeeze. The moan he lets out is heavenly, and you stroke up and down the length of him, thumbing his slit. He shudders, his hand tightening in your hair.

“Please- do something.” you listen to him, reaching down to drag your tongue up the underside of his cock. Sputtering and moaning, he mutters out “T-thank you, fuck thats so good.”

You do the same again, taking him into your mouth. He feels heavy on your tongue, precum spilling out of the tip.

“I’m not gonna last- i’m sorry I-” you cut him off with a graze of your teeth along the inside of his thigh. His thighs tense as your hand grasps the base of his cock, stroking what your mouth can't take. You bob your head, groans of pleasure leaving his lips as he bucks up into your mouth. He tries to apologise, and you tell him you’ll stop if he does that again.

Nodding, he watches as your hand tugs at him, your bright nails a stark contrast to the leaking head of his cock. The sight is erotic, the way your red-rimmed mouth moves up and down his length, taking him deeper each time.

“I can’t- i’m going to-” he tries to pull you off of him, but you resist, instead speeding up your movements, desperately trying to bring him to the edge. Your eyes are watering and you can feel spit dripping down the side of your chin, but that didn't matter to you. You needed to feel Matty come undone in your mouth, and you were so close.

He whined, bucking up into your mouth, biting back yet another apology.

“F-fuck-” is your only warning before he spills into yor mouth, hot ropes of cum painting the back of your throat. His hand never left your hair, gripping onto it for dear life as you worked him through his orgasm.

Sticking out your tongue to show off what he had done, Matty screws his eyes shut at the sight, a groan leaving his parted lips. You swallow.

“That was.. So fucking good.” you giggle at the praise, crawling up to kiss him deeply. He can taste himself on your tongue, moaning softly into the kiss. You reach down to play with the piercing on his chest. The sounds he made were too heavenly to make you stop.

The hickeys you had sucked into the skin of his neck and chest made you gawk at him, admiring your work.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” he smirks at you, cocky. You take out the camera you kept in your bag, which was conveniently sitting on the glass table adjacent to the sofa. Angling the camera so you could capture everything, the flash goes off three separate times. It blinds him the first time, making his eyes shut at the light.

The second picture is better, with Matty looking at you instead of the camera, a provocative grin spread onto his face. He was always a sucker for attention, absolutely relishing in it. The picture perfectly caught the deep purple of the marks you had left on him, contrasting his pale skin perfectly.

The third picture though, was your favourite. Your hand had made its way to his nipple, pulling at the piercing right before snapping the photo. His face contorted in a mix of pain and pleasure, mouth slightly open with his eyes almost fully closed. He sure was a sight for sore eyes, the expression igniting a fire in you.

Leaning down to kiss him, you chuck the camera somewhere behind you, hearing it hit cushions on the other end of the sofa. The moment was soft, tender, like a fond memory.

One thing ruined it all. A nagging feeling at the back of your mind you just could calm.

What are we?

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------

It had taken days of convincing to get Matty to go with you. Ross and Adam had invited you to dinner, and George was also going to be there. He was reluctant to go, not wanting to face any of them. After hours of pleading and a makeout session, you stood by the door and watched as he put his shoes on.

You both walked hand in hand down the street, taking a shortcut through an old junkyard. Hann was probably just as nervous as Matty was to see him again, and you told him as much. Matty just shrugged, eyes glued to the ground in front of him.

The ring of the doorbell as you pressed it made him finally look up. Ross answered, eyes softening and he saw you both. He pulled you in for a hug, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. Matty was twitchy and frankly, scared, to see everyone again. The way he had acted made him cringe inwardly.

“Hey Matty.” Ross spoke as he pulled him in for one of his big man hugs. Matty hugged him back, finally smiling. It was okay, everything was going to be okay.

The conversation had been hard at first, with Hann going on his ‘drugs are bad for you’ rant again. Matty sat and listened, and so did you, squeezing his hand under the table as Adam finally finished, getting up to put on the kettle.

George was sitting on the couch, eyeing you as you went to plop next to him. Everything seemed normal, except for Hann’s incessant rambling and checking if everything was alright, which was pretty regular now that you really thought about it.

The night was spent laughing and watching Pulp Fiction on the telly. It felt like old times, before everything had gone to shit. You smile fondly at the memories of Matty and Ross almost killing each other over trivial games of FIFA, clawing at each other until Hann finally pulled them apart.

You watch the others, absolutely engrossed in the movie, with soft munching coming from the direction of Ross and his bag of prawn cocktail crisps. He had an obsession with the flavour, reluctant to try anything else. George had even offered him a tenner to swap with him his cheese flavoured ones, and he flat out refused.

The night was calm, with you leaning against Mattys chest for the majority of the movie. You felt his breathing and heartbeat in his chest, it calmed you. Everything felt alright, and you could feel your eyes droop closed. The last thing you remember was Mattys hand stroking your hip lightly as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, breathing in the scent of his cologne.

Chapter Text

The light breeze made wrappers fly through the air, George chasing after them, ever the eco conscious one. Matty laughed, rolling his eyes before biting into his burger, sauce covering his face. The five of you had ended up where you always did: The McDonalds parking lot. It was almost sad, with Caroline's having too many horrible memories connected to it, the only place that felt nice was a parking lot next to the highway.

Sometimes, you’d go to your respective houses, but with Mattys place being far too posh for Ross’ taste, and Hann and Ross’ flat feeling quite cramped when you all piled in, the great outdoors was your only option.

George had somehow found another shopping cart on the side of the road, and was now sitting in it with you, your legs draped over each other as you shared a spliff over burgers and ice cream. Matty, not being able to ask for the spliff like a normal person, started making grabby hands at you, his mouth filled with bits of food. You roll your eyes, handing it to him reluctantly.

Hann was going on about his girlfriend (well, now ex-girlfriend) and how much he missed her. She had broken up with him a few days prior, stating he “acted like a single mother to his friends”, calling him weird for not answering her calls the day Matty had finally come back from his ‘bender’.

Matty was making his weird food-eating sex noises again, and Ross groaned, closing his hands around his ears, trying to muffle the sound. You giggled at his reaction, Matty turned to you, giving you a subtle wink.

“You look nice today, have you done something with your hair?'' The question came from George, his eyes trying to figure out what you did. “I straightened it properly, you like?” he nods, turning back to the floor of the shopping cart you were both in, picking up his milkshake and taking a sip.

“Oh for fucks sake Matty, you got your fucking hair in my food.” Hann holds up a blonde strand, clearly belonging to Matty, the curl pattern giving him away. Matty just shrugs, blowing Adam kiss before turning to you. His eyes pierce yours, and you can feel your heartbeat speed up.

“Cunt.” Adam mutters to himself before trying to throw the hair onto Matty, failing miserably.

“Let's go to the lake, I fancy a swim.” Ross pipes up. You immediately agree, the weather was warm enough and a night swim sounded fantastic right about now. George whined about how unsanitary the lake was, but everyone knew he would be the first one in it the moment you got there.

The walk there was calm, Ross and George leading the way, with you and Matty right behind them. Adam was trudging along beside you, loopy and tired and hungover. You take a stab at him for acting like an old man, and he shoots you a glare that shuts you up, holding your hands up defensively as he turns back to stare at the ground in front of him.

The field was slightly damp, the grass wetting your back as you laid down on it. The sounds of crickets and trees rustling filled your ears, and you see Matty walking towards you. He had taken his shirt off, nipple piercing on display.

“Jesus, is that a nip ring?” you hear Ross comment, hiding his laugh behind his hand.

“Yeah, this one is an aspiring piercer.” he gestured to you, and you nod at Ross, confirming that you had done it for him. It was almost healed at this point, and you were begging him to switch it to something pink and girly. He tried to fend you off, but eventually agreed to let you swap out the black ring for a pink one.

“It would look so good on you, I promise.” you assured him, your hand grazing over his chest. As long as you kept doing that he'd let you do whatever you wanted to him.

Peeling off your shirt, you lay back down onto the grass, patting the space next to you while looking at Matty. He grins, spinning around and letting himself flop onto the ground, his head immediately resting on your chest. The soft curls of Mattys hair brushed against your face, tickling slightly.

“Get in the water and stop lying there like a bunch of pricks posing for a summer edition of Vogue!” The yell comes from Ross, who was already knee deep in swampy lake water, waving his hands over his head as he flung insults at the both of you. Like second nature, two aggressive middle fingers fly up, telling him to promptly go fuck himself.

The sun had set, stars littering the sky, lighting it up. Your legs had started to go numb from the weight of Mattys body on yours, so you had decided to switch places. Arms draped over each other, he held you close as you watched the stars sparkle.

“I want you.” The words sound nonchalant, almost disguising their meaning as they leave Mattys lips. A laugh escapes you, and you trail a hand up his chest, tracing the indents of his ribs.

“Alright, i'm going to the shop for some booze,” you announce, getting up from Matty. From the water, George shouts at you to get a bottle Tequila, with Adam not far behind, asking you to buy him a pack of his fags. You commit the requests to memory, kicking Matty lightly, motioning for him to get up. He quickly does, his hand intertwining with yours as you walk to the road that was maybe a few hundred meters from the edge of the water.

Once you were out of their earshot, Ross pipes up:

“D’you reckon they're shagging?” his question sounds more casual than it actually is. George shrugs his shoulders, going back to fixing his shorts.

“I’d bet money on it. Have you seen the way she looks at him, or the way he looks at her? He's whipped.”

The knowledge hangs thick in the air, not as uncomfortable as they thought it would be. It was fine, they concluded, even if a bit weird.

Meanwhile, Matty had you pressed up against the wall of the alley next to the corner shop, his hands clawing at your tits with such an intensity, you’d have thought he’d been celibate up until this moment.

Not caring if anyone saw, you run your hands up his chest, looping your finger through the piercing on his chest, playing with it. He never failed you, eliciting just the reaction you were hoping for. A pathetic moan, and his hands tweaking your nipple in retaliation.

He taps your shoulder three distinct times, a provocative grin spreading onto his face. A desperate hand grabs his wrist, and you lead him into the shop, quickly rushing past the cash register in favor of the one stall bathroom you knew was in the back. The fluorescent lighting made your eyes burn for a second as you locked the door behind you, turning back to face Matty.

If heaven could be cultivated into one image, it would be the one standing right infront of you. Messy hair, wide eyes and a naked, sweaty chest graced your line of sight, wasting no time to press him against the sink, the ceramic digging into the small of his back. The kiss is all teeth and tongue, with him licking into your mouth in a way that makes you slightly dizzy, your knees buckling beneath you.

A wave of pure adoration washed over you as he pulled back, his eyes darting over your face, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Such a sweet expression on the face of someone who was currently grinding onto you like his life depended on it. You could feel him growing harder the more you kissed him, sharp nails raking down his back, leaving raised scratch marks that reflected off of the mirror behind him.

“You want me, yeah?” you quote his words back to him, his eyes screwing shut in pure ecstasy as you reach a hand down his loose basketball shorts, ghosting over his underwear. His hips buck forward, a moan leaving his lips as the pressure increased. A wet patch formed on the front of his boxers, his cock leaking into your hand.

An idea pops into your head, and your hand leaves his pants, opting to grab his waist. He whines at the loss of contact, burying his head into your shoulder. A yelp of surprise sounds from him when you flip him around, pressing his front to the edge of the sink, making eye contact in the mirror.

Your hands move over the expanse of his chest, watching his face closely as he hangs his head, trying to catch his breath.

“Look at yourself,” you tell him “If you don't, I'll stop.” your voice is firm, and his eyes snap up to meet yours before landing on his own reflection.

A sigh leaves his parted lips as your hand finally travels lower, the tent in his pants now painfully obvious. The cool air of the bathroom made his nipples hard against your fingers as you ran your other hand over them.

“Please- i've done everything you wanted.. please.”  his voice cracks slightly as you squeeze him through his underwear, his cock pulsing in your hand. Your movements are slow as you take him out of his boxers, collecting beads of precum at the tip before smearing it back down.

You hold your hand out, Matty looking slightly confused when you do. A raised eyebrow makes it clear what you want him to do, and he spits into the palm of your hand, making eye contact with you as he did. Matty knows what he does to you, no matter how badly you try to hide it. A grin makes its way onto his face, quickly transforming into a blissed out expression as you speed up, thumbing his slit as he lets out a low moan.

He listened, never letting his eyes leave his reflection, though occasionally they flick over to you, your pupils completely blown out, watching every little move he made. He looks absolutely beautiful, like putty in your hands, you mold him with your words.

It was moments like these that made your heart swell up at the sight of him, fucked out and begging for even the smallest touch. One of his hands slam against the glass of the mirror, holding him steady. The faster you move, the more he reacts, filling the small bathroom with groans and pleas, the sounds reverberating off of the walls.

The mirror has not been a coincidence, no matter what you led him to believe. Reaching into the back pocket of your shorts, you feel around for a certain familiar object. The camera. You didn't know what it was, but whenever he was like this, twitching under even the slightest brush of your fingers against his cock, you felt the urge to immortalize the moment.

His eyes widen when he spots the lens in the mirror, reflecting the light of the lightbulb above you. His mind was fuzzy, and honestly, so was yours. Your fingers fumbled a bit, missing the shutter the first time. Even if he played dumb in the moment, he knew you kept the photos of him close to you, so he always made sure to give you what you wanted.

A sly grin, half closed eyes, maybe even parted lips with a hint of tongue between them. Sweat needed on his forehead, dripping down his face and onto his chest, and he could feel him throttling towards his orgasm.

A flash.

A particularly harsh tug of his cock makes his mouth fall open just as the picture is taken, the expression on his face one of pure ecstasy. Your core flutters at sight in the mirror, even letting out a small moan as his eyes meet yours.

Flash

This time, he’s ready, his head tilting back, showing off the numerous hickeys you had left days before, slightly faded but still visible. His hair is thrown to the side, tangled and unruly, blonde, grown out highlights peeking through the mess of curls. He parts his lips, on purpose this time, letting out an exaggerated moan.

Your hand had now left his cock, a groan of protest coming from Matty as you shush him, your hand tracing up his chest and settling around his throat. Squeezing experimentally, Matty whimpers at the sensation, nodding vigorously to get you to do it again. You do, tightening your grip.

Flash.

This picture is your absolute favorite. Your hand is small around his neck, yet still overpowering him. The way he looks at you in the reflection convinces you an actual angel has been plucked out of heaven and handed to you in the form of Matty. His hands clutch the edge of the sink, head thrown back once again.

Deciding you had given him enough, you reach back down, squeezing his cock just like you did his neck not three seconds earlier.

“I didn't think you’d be kinky like that, hm?” He tries to seem cocky, but his voice betrays him. He can't control the shakiness of it, the way his breath catches in his throat whenever you change up your rhythm, throwing him off.

“Didn't take you for such an attention whore either, did I? I guess we’re both full of surprises.” you retaliate, and you know he’s almost there, the way his thighs tense and his cock twitches in your hand a telltale sign.

“I’m so close- fuck.” He’s asking for permission, you know he is. His eyes find yours in the mirror, and you nod.

“Go on, Matthew, you know you want to.” you urge him, hand speeding up as his legs buckle underneath him, the only thing keeping him upright being the ceramic of the sink his hands are holding on to.

He comes with a cry of your name, shuddering in your grasp, ropes of cum painting the white of the sink. Small, short gasps leave his mouth as you work him through his orgasm, only letting up when his hand goes to grab yours.

Matty turns around, planting a kiss onto your wet lips, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling flush against him.

“You got to show me those pictures sometime.” he gestures to the forgotten camera hanging off your wrist, along with the polaroid tucked into the band of your pants.

“No fuckin way-” you giggle “knowing you, you’d probably add them to your personal wank bank.” His eyes widen in offense, slapping the side of your arm in protest.

“I know you think I'm just some egomaniacal tosser, but look at me!” He points his index finger to his chest. “How could you not?” Another laugh escapes you as you roll your eyes at his proclamation.

The walk to the counter post bathroom sex was nothing but awkward, with the cashier eyeing you as you walked up to the front to pay. Matty takes out a wad of cash, slamming down a twenty and grabbing the stuff off the counter, quickly spinning around to leave.

The other three questioned why you were gone so long, but really, they knew why. That conversation was one for another day.

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------

It had started to rain shortly before you got home, your clothes being completely soaked through as you stepped through the front door. Matty groaned as he took his shorts off, laying onto the couch in exhaustion. The two of you had booked it down the street the last few hundred meters, neither of you fit enough to get out of that sprint alive.

The heat was cranked up, warm blankets covering you as you snuggled up to each other, Amy Winehouse played softly in the background, the vocals calming you as you talked softly. Matty held you close to his chest, his breathing regular as he stroked your hair, running his fingers through it over and over.

You wanted to freeze this moment in time and relive it forever until you died. The gentleness of his hands paired with the hoarse but small sound of his voice made your insides melt. Looking back, this was truly a long time coming.

But what was ‘this’?

The two of you hadn't talked yet, blatantly ignoring the elephant in the room. Your feelings for each other were undeniable, but what then? What did that mean to you, but more importantly, what did it mean to Matty?

The next few moments feel like a dream. His hands wrap around the base of your neck, pulling you up. He kisses you, sweet and innocent, almost chaste as his lips move with yours. He pulls away quickly, eyes darting over your face before settling on your. A small sound escapes his lips, and you can see him hesitate.

A deep breath.

“I love you.”

The words hit you like a freight train. His eyes search yours for a reaction, wincing when you remain expressionless. That is, until you speak.

“Fucking idiot.” it sounds harsh, and you can see him deflate.

“I love you too.” his fucking angelic smile graces his face, and you pull him in for another kiss. The feel of his hands on yours makes your heart flutter, your heart swelling up with love.

“Does this mean-” he cuts himself off before starting his sentence again. “Can I be your boyfriend?” His voice is small, and you can tell he feels slightly insecure.

“Only if you promise not to wank to those pictures.” you burst out into delirious laughter as he pulls you back in, he grasps your face, mushing it against the palms of his hands.

“Only if you promise to stop taking my fucking clothes, jesus christ” he tugs at the shirt youre wearing. His stupid blue Barcelona shirt.

Kisses litter your face, and the blanket starts to feel warmer, like you were trapping heaven itself under the covers. It sure felt like it, with Matty looking at you with an expression so filled with love and adoration you thought it might spill out of his ears.

In a way, you knew it would end like this.

You and Matty

Matty and you

“What are we?” you ask, repeating his question from so many nights ago.

“I'm yours, forever.” he answers, his hair falling into his face as he looks down at you.

You and Matty, forever.

// THE END //