Somewhere Between Things

Maddy is sprawled out on a towel in the sun when Georgie gets back to the hotel pool with more drinks. She'd been wearing a little bit more when Georgie left, but now all she has on is a little red bikini that's closer to the idea of wearing something than it is actually wearing something and big dark sunglasses, her little swimsuit coverup discarded next to her. She looks like something out of a magazine or a wet dream and Georgie's breath catches for a moment before she forces herself to move rather than stare. As she gets closer, she realizes that Maddy has tucked things into the string of her bikini bottoms--a pack of Marlboros, the same color as her bikini, a lighter, and her lip gloss--and she stretches when she notices Georgie, just to be a little bit provocative. Her jewelry glitters as she moves, engagement ring, the new wedding ring, the little ring she bought from an artisan in Barbados, just before she came home from rehab, the stack of bracelets she usually wears, and Georgie realizes that she can see the outline of the jewelry in her nipple piercings through the thin material of her bikini top.

"Before you say anything," Maddy starts as Georgie sits on the towel next to her, "I'm wearing so much sunscreen and I drank water."

Before she can think better of it, Georgie responds with, "Good girl."

Maddy grins. "Only for you, babe."

"I know," Georgie says. "You're awful."

Maddy raises her brown behind her sunglasses and turns her head to look at Georgie. "That's not what you said last night. Actually, if I recall, you said I'm a miracle and that you adore me."

Georgie huffs a laugh. "You're over here lookin' like this for everybody to look at. That's awful."

"And here I thought you liked showing me off."

"I do like showing you off," Georgie agrees. "You're over here showing yourself off."

Maddy props herself up on an elbow to take her drink, saying "For you. I'm showing off for you," before taking a sip. Her drink is pink and fruity and sweet and it'll probably give her a raging hangover, but she looks so herself that Georgie feels a little like she's falling in love all over again.

"I love you," Georgie says.

Matty smiles, self-satisfied, and pulls the pack of Marlboros from under her bikini string, then her lighter, offering them to Georgie first.

Georgie, though, feels a little bit like she's like to be as close to Maddy as physically possible, so she counters with, "Share one?"

Maddy's smile turns softer and more genuine, fond, and she nods, saying, "Yeah, we can share," and sits up, crossing her legs and facing Georgie, so it's a little bit easier to light a cigarette.

Georgie watches while Maddy deftly pulls a cigarette from the box and lights it, taking a long drag before passing it over. She sets the box on the ground next to her towel rather than tuck it back into the string of her bikini bottoms. Georgie can't help but be a little bit disappointed about that, but she tries not to think about it as she takes a drag from the cigarette. The filter is sticky with Maddy's lip gloss.

"Doin' ok?" Maddy asks after a moment.

Georgie nods. "I'm happy," she says. "Like, really happy, and you're gorgeous and I adore you and I wish you were a little bit closer."

"Closer I can do," Maddy agrees, moving so she's sitting a few inches closer, just on the edge of her towel, the bare skin of her crossed legs against the hot concrete of the pool deck. She takes the cigarette back and takes a drag and Georgie wants to stare forever, wants to trace the line of her jaw, wants to catalog every lock of dark hair spilling over her shoulders and down her back, wants to dig fingers into the softness of her hips.

"You're staring," Maddy says quietly.

"You're stunning."

Maddy reaches out to cradle Georgie's jaw, running a thumb just below her lower lip where her lip liner is just a bit smudged, then combs fingers through her hair to have grip the hair at the back of her head and urges her to lean forward for a kiss that's all cigarette smoke and lip gloss and too-sweet cocktails.

"Closer," Georgie murmurs when they separate.

Maddy grins. "Any more and we're getting thrown out. Back to the room?"

"How ya doin', sweetheart?" George asks, coming up behind Matty and squeezing his shoulder.

The touch pulls Matty out of his haze and he jumps a bit when George's hand first lands on his shoulder, then he looks up and mumbles, "'m fine."

“Are you just sayin’ that?” 

Matty shakes his head. 

“I thought we agreed you were going to be honest about how you felt.” 

“I’m fine for me,” Matty amends. “Fine is relative.” 

“I don’t think that was our agreement.” 

Matty shrugs and accepts the cup of tea George offers. 

“Matty,” George starts, gentle and careful. “We had a deal. If you can’t tell me, then we-“ 

“I’m fine!” Matty interrupts. “I’m fine! I’m not going to go take all my pills or cut my wrists or jump off a bridge or, or something. I’m fine for me.” 

George frowns. “That’s not my point, love.” 

“Then what is?”

“You promised that when it got like this, when it got bad, you’d honestly tell me how you’re doin’ without brushing things off or just saying fine or whatever else.”

Matty huffs and takes a drink of his tea before asking, “You really wanna know?” 

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.” 

Matty sets his mug on the coffee table and sits up a little bit straighter to say, “Ok, then. I feel awful. I’m exhausted but I’m wide awake and nothing stops and everything feels heavy and blurry and I can’t focus on anything, not that I want to, and I’m sick and fucking tired of feeling this way and I’d like to make it all stop, but with my fucking luck, I wouldn’t do it properly, so I’m not going to do anything, even if I want to. I’m just going to sit here and be a burden and hate myself for that, too.” 

George sits and lets Matty stretch his legs out over his lap before starting, "Matty, sweetheart-"

Matty pulls his legs back and pulls his knees to his chest saying, "Stop it. Stop being so nice and understanding. You don't understand. It's not like it is for me for you. Stop pretending like it is. You don't get it. Stop trying."

"Then help me understand," George says, still just as kind and understanding as he has been. "Help me get it."

"I just told you! You won't get it!"

"Matty."

"I want you to know," Matty offers, a little desperate and lost. "I mean, I do and I don't and I know how it is for you, it's heavy and slow and, and tired, but it's not like that for me, not when it's like this and I can't make you understand. So just, get that you won't get it or the door is there."

George looks hurt, struck.

Matty slumps. "I'm sorry. That's not fair. You don't deserve that."

"It's not," George agrees. "And I don't. I know this is hard and miserable and shit and I'm not pretending that I know how you feel, but you can't take it out on me."

Matty gets himself a little bit smaller, pulls his knees a little bit closer, his arms a little bit tighter around his shins, and nods. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm just miserable."

"I know and I'm sorry you're miserable. If I could fix it, I would. I'd do it a heartbeat."

"I know," Matty repeats. He pauses, considering getting closer and leaning into George's side for some comfort, then thinks better of it. It's easier if he keeps himself like this. Contained. A single unit. Confined to himself. "I don't want you to be miserable," he continues, "but I want you to know what it feels like. But that feels cruel, because I don't want anyone else to ever, ever feel like this, but I want you to know. Does that make me an asshole? Does that even make sense? I, this would be easier, I think. I wouldn't make you quite so miserable when I get this if you knew."

"You're not making me miserable," George tries. "And that's not cruel. That's," a pause, "human, I think, to want someone to understand." When Matty doesn't say anything, George adds, "And you are human, try as you might to seem like something else."

Matty gives a shrug, mostly because it's all he can think to do. If he opens his mouth, he's going to start crying for the third time today.

"C'mere," George says, moving so Matty can sit in his lap and opening his arms.

Matty hesitates for a moment, then goes. As soon as he's settled into George's lap with George's arms around him, he wonders why he hesitated. He still feels a lot like crying, but George is warm and solid and he makes Matty feel a little bit less like he's falling apart. He's not less miserable--that will take time and maybe a change to his medication--but he does feel a little bit more grounded.

"You're not an asshole," George continues. "You're not cruel. You're not well, that's all. And you're gonna get better, it's just gonna take a minute, but I'm right here, as long as it takes, ok?"

"I'm tired of being miserable," Matty mumbles, cuddling a little bit closer. "I just want it to stop."

George presses a kiss to Matty's temple and murmurs, "I know, sweetheart. It'll get better, we've just gotta ride it out."

"We?"

"Yeah, we," George promises. "It's about you, I know, but you're not in it alone."

"I like we," Matty admits.

Matty pauses, then adds, "I feel a bit dizzy when he's not there." It's true, entirely true and honest and real but as soon as he says it, Matty wonders if it's too true and too honest and too real, so he quickly continues, "That's not in a camp kind of way, it's just that we live together and we spend so much time together."

The interviewer says something in response and Matty keeps answering questions, kind of on autopilot, which is a dangerous thing with the way he tends to run his mouth, but no one yells at him when the interview is over and he gets back to the hotel with little intervention. George isn't there when Matty gets back to their hotel room, so he changes into comfy clothes and sprawls out on the bed. Well, actually, there are two beds, but only one has been slept in. The other has open suitcases and stuff piled on it. It's not anything weird, Matty thinks, it's just that it's easier to have some space to spread out and dig through things and Matty doesn't always do well with new beds every couple nights, but he sleeps a little bit better with George next to him. That's not weird. That's just closeness. Friendship. Care. And sure, it's specifically George that Matty sleeps better next to and Matty does feel unbalanced and off kilter without George around and Matty wants George around all the time, but it's not weird. None of it is something that means anything.

None of it means anything, Matty thinks, except for the part where it all means everything. It all means everything because Matty wants George around all the time and he can see a life where it's just him and George in a cozy flat or a house for the rest of their lives, no girlfriends or partners, just them together and Matty loves the way George's hands feel against his body, warm against his hip or his lower back and of course they've done things that Matty hasn't done with other friends and he's liked that, wanted it, sought it out, but it's not weird. It's just them.

Matty is still staring at the ceiling and thinking when the door opens again and he hears George's voice. He must know that Matty is there because he starts talking like they're going to have a conversation, but there's no other voice answering. A moment later, there's a warm hand against Matty's knee and then he looks up to see Geroge.

"Hi," Matty offers, not moving. "Where ya been?"

"Out and about," is George's answer, easy and friendly.

Matty hums. "Doin' what?"

"Got weed and snacks," George admits. "Thought you might appreciate a quiet evening, just us."

Matty is struck by a wave of emotion and he sits up to nod and repsond, "Yeah, that, that would be nice. Thank you."

George offers a soft smile and sits next to Matt on the foot of the bed, saying, "And I heard you were talkin' about me earlier."

Not weird, Matty reminds himself as he nods and tries for nonchalance in answering, "I'm always talkin' about you. Told 'em you're a blanket hog and you get stoned and eat all the ice cream."

Matty thinks it's the most brilliant thing when George laughs and knocks their shoulders together, countering, "Sounds like you're projecting or something."

Matty shrugs and puts on his best innocent expression.

"Well, I heard you were saying very nice things," George continues when Matty doesn't speak.

"More like codependent," Matty says before he can stop himself.

George chuckles a bit, but it's fond, not mean. "And I'm not?"

Matty turns to look at George, a little shocked and confused. "You're not what?"

"I'm always lookin' for you where you're not there. You must know that by now?"

Matty shrugs.

George turns, too, so he can face Matty, and takes Matty's hands saying, "Hey, you know I love you, right?"

Matty gives a small nod, but he doesn't make eye contact.

"Matty." "George."

"What're ya thinkin' about?"

Matty shrugs again. "Think I was too honest."

George offers a skeptical look. "Too honest?"

Matty nods.

"And that's a bad thing?"

Matty gives yet another shrug.

"What did you say?"

"Don't you know?"

George just makes an expectant face.

Matty sighs and looks away, looks anywhere but George, then mumbles, "Said I feel a little dizzy when you're not around. 's not weird, I don't think, but I just," he pauses, "I want you around all the time. Feels wrong when you aren't around." Matty looks back to George to ask, "Is that weird? Am I crossing some boundary I don't know about? Or maybe one I've ignored?"

"You're worried about boundaries?" George asks slowly.

Matty shrugs. "'s not boundaries, not specifically. I just," he pauses, "am I looking at things wrong? Am I expecting too much from you? Am I too attached to you, to reliant on you?"

"I don't think so," George offers. "'s just you and me, like we always have been."

Matty shakes his head. "But you don't know," he protests. "Maybe I'm attached in the wrong way."

George laughs a bit again, fond, and tries, "What's the difference?"

"Dunno," Matty admits. "I just," a pause, "I wanna be around you all the time."

George moves a little bit closer and pulls Matty into a tight hug. "Ross asked if we wanted to go out tonight," he starts. "I told him no 'cause I knew you wouldn't want to and I'd rather stay here with you than be anywhere with anyone else."

"You really mean that?" Matty asks, voice a little muffled by the way he's pressed against George's chest.

"Yeah," George promises, "I really do."

"So we're ok?"