livin' in a daydream.

The past few hours had gone by in an agonizingly slow blur. 

Your boyfriend — or rather, your ex-boyfriend — had called you in tears. Your heart had dropped as you listened to him gasp for breath into the phone, struggling to even speak to you. Instantly, every nerve of your body had told you that something was horribly, horribly wrong. 

You’d known that he was on a weekend trip with friends — he’d told you about it weeks ago. That was completely fine. You knew the friends. You really liked most of them. You trusted them and him. So when he called you, you expected him to say that one of his friends had been in an accident, or they had gotten too wasted and gotten into a fight and ended up in the hospital or in jail. Or, even worse, that it was your boyfriend who had ended up in the hospital or in jail.

What you weren’t expecting was for him to tell you that he had cheated on you the night before with some girl he had met at the bar, and now he was calling to confess his sins and plead for your forgiveness. 

And he had tried. He begged you to forgive him, gave you every excuse in the book, told you he had been drunk and stupid and made a mistake, and that he didn’t even want it; she’s the one who initiated it, and he just went along with it. He told you it meant nothing. He told you he loved you.

With every word that he said, you could feel the pit in your stomach grow deeper and deeper until you wished for the ground beneath you to open up and swallow you whole. 

“Please, baby,” he cried into the receiver. “I’m sorry. It didn’t mean anything. It won’t happen again. I love you, you know that, right? I love you fucking much, and I feel terrible about what happened. I don’t know what I’m gonna do without you. I can’t be with anyone else. I need you in my life. I love you.”

You’d stayed silent as he poured his heart out to you over the phone, listening to him beg and cry and promise. But nothing that he said could change the fact that you had given two years of your life to this man, and he threw it away in the course of five minutes over a pretty face and a couple of pints.

“Don’t call me again” was all you had to say as you hung up the phone.

And that was that.

His words reverberated through your head like a drum. You’d packed up all of the shit he’d left in your flat in a frenzy, haphazardly throwing his belongings into a cardboard box. The anger had kept you going long enough to shove it into the back of your closet, where you couldn’t see it, as though that would help with the grief you were feeling. But once you had shut the door, the finality of the situation had sunk in, as had the anguish that you had been trying so hard to fight off.

You’d spent the past few hours alternating between sobbing violently and drinking yourself numb. The floor around your couch gradually became littered with used Kleenex as you lay on it, clutching a nearly-empty wine bottle like it was your lifeline. It was ironic — you’d actually gotten the wine for a date night with your ex that he’d cancelled at the last second, saying that he was feeling under the weather. Now, you were beginning to question if that had actually been the truth. 

You were beginning to question everything. 

You’d thought he loved you, but someone who loves someone doesn’t treat them like that. Though, in all honesty, he hadn’t exactly treated you the best for most of your relationship. You’d put up with it because the good moments were really good, but that didn’t make up for all of the nights you had spent crying yourself to sleep because you had gotten into yet another fight over something stupid. He had always made it feel like it was your fault, like you were the one who wasn’t good enough, wasn’t doing enough. And now, lying here in your wine-induced haze, you were beginning to wonder if he had been right. Maybe if you had tried harder, he wouldn’t have sought out comfort in another girl’s bed.

Maybe you weren’t enough after all.

A knock on your door made you jump, abruptly pulling you out of your self-loathing spiral. Your first thought is of your ex, who may have come by to apologize and ask for forgiveness. The thought fills your mouth with a bitter taste that is only amplified by the aftertaste of the wine, and you want to hurl. You freeze in place, suddenly unable to move, unable to do anything except fight down the feeling of bile rising in your gut. 

But then, a voice that’s familiar in a different sort of way speaks through your door, saying your name in a soft tone.

“Shit,” you say loudly as a completely different panic overtakes you, and for the second time that night, you wish the floor would open up, and you would fall through.

You had made plans to hang out with Matty last week, and you had completely forgotten about them until now. You’re sure you had written down a reminder somewhere, but clearly, you hadn’t put it somewhere prominent enough. You had been looking forward to this, too — it had been a few weeks since you’d seen your best friend. The band had been taking up most of his spare time, and your then-boyfriend had been especially time-consuming as of late, so you needed to pick a night where he was out of town, and Matty wasn’t locking himself away in a recording studio all weekend. So you had decided on tonight, and what was supposed to be a calm, casual evening of catching up, eating some mediocre takeout food, and getting stoned together was quickly turning into your worst nightmare.

He knocks again, which only serves to amplify your frantic state. You take in the space around you, the mess, the way you haven’t changed out of the clothes you slept in, the fact that you probably look like shit. 

You could always tell Matty you’re sick. That would make him go away… maybe. But knowing your friend, he’d probably insist you let him in anyway so he can make sure you’re okay.

You’re busy racking your brain for an excuse when your phone starts vibrating in your pocket. You pull it out and, unsurprisingly, it’s Matty. Your heart thumps violently against your ribcage, like it’s trying to escape. Panic overtakes you, and before you know what you’re doing, you’ve accepted the call, and you instantly regret it. 

“Hey, I’m outside your place,” you hear him say over the phone. You can hear the smile in his tone — he’s clearly excited to see you. But he’s the last person you want to see right now. “You gonna let me in or do I have to keep standing out here like a complete moron?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

Instead of replying to him, you throw a pillow over your face and let out a frustrated scream. Obviously, it isn’t as muffled as you like, because a couple of seconds later, Matty’s voice is back in your ear.

“You good?” he asks in an unreadable tone, as though he wasn’t sure if he should actually be concerned or not. 

You don’t reply. You can’t face this right now. You can’t face anyone right now, and certainly not Matty. You know how he’s going to react — he’s going to look at you with those fucking puppy dog eyes and tell you everything is going to be okay and make sure you don’t drink yourself to death. He’s going to treat you like you’re something to be treasured, something to be taken care of. 

He’s always been good at that — too good — better than all of your exes combined. But you don’t feel like you deserve that, and he shouldn’t have to fill that role. Not tonight. Not when he was expecting a fun night with you.

A few seconds must have passed, because Matty says your name into the phone gently, like he’s afraid of scaring you off. He knocks on the door again, more urgently this time.

“Look, I know something’s up,” he says, his voice laced with that characteristic concern and tenderness that is exactly the kind of thing you cannot deal with tonight. “Just... let me in, yeah? You can tell me all about it. Don’t care how long it takes.”

It suddenly becomes clear to you that Matty has no plans of leaving until he’s sure you’re alright. Unfortunately for you and your ego, you are categorically not alright, and too exhausted from crying and drinking to make up a convincing lie. You know you can’t bullshit him — he can tell. Matty can always tell.

You remove the pillow from your face and let out a low sigh. You rise to your feet, unsteady but still sober enough to walk.

(Too sober, in your opinion. After all, you can still feel. You don’t want to feel. Not right now. Maybe not ever again.)

The short trek to your front door feels like a marathon, and with each step you take, you can feel a lump growing in your throat. What are you even going to say? My boyfriend cheated on me because I wasn’t enough for him? That’s fucking embarrassing. The last thing you want is for Matty to pity you, to look at you like you’re some wounded little creature who got her heart broken again by some dickhead.

You steel yourself the best you can and open the door slowly. Matty’s eyes meet yours immediately, and only then does he hang up his phone, hastily shoving it into the pocket of the leather jacket he always wears. In one hand, he’s holding a plastic shopping bag with a big yellow smiley face printed on the side and the words THANK YOU plastered on it in big, bold lettering. The smell of cheap takeout food hits your nose, but instead of making your mouth water, you feel your stomach flip.

“You look like shit,” he says.

You know it’s supposed to be playful, an innocent jab to lighten the mood. Under any other circumstances, you’d laugh, tell him to fuck off, and invite him in. But instead, the words cut deep, and you can feel your chest tighten as you try and fail to stifle a sob. You watch as Matty’s face contorts from an expression of confusion to panic as you begin crying all over again, sobs suddenly racking your body. In an instant, he’s crossed the threshold into your home, dropped the bag on your floor, and wrapped both his arms around you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

You bury his face in his shirt, clutching at his jacket and digging your fingers into the leather with a grip that is so tight it almost hurts. He reeks of stale cooking oil, cigarettes, and the cologne he put on to try to cover up the other two smells, but most importantly, he smells familiar. He smells like a friend. And God knows, you really need one of those right now.

You feel him press his lips to the top of your head as you dampen his shirt with your tears, before he presses his face into your hair. You feel a pang of embarrassment, knowing that your hair was probably due for a wash, but he doesn’t seem to care. Not with the way he’s rubbing your back and speaking comforting words like it’s a mantra.

“Oh love — it’s alright. You’re alright, yeah? I’m here. You’re alright. You’re okay. Shh… I’ve got you. Just breathe, sweetheart. Just breathe.”

You lose track of time, standing there in the doorway. Matty doesn’t rush you, doesn’t try to encourage you to go sit down on the couch, or let go of him, or stop ruining one of his precious band tees. He just holds you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters. He holds you until you’re pretty sure your tear ducts have dried up, and you are physically incapable of crying anymore. And he holds you as you melt into him, too exhausted by your own sadness to do anything else.

You’re the first to break the silence.

“We broke up.” Your voice is muffled by his shirt, but you can’t bring yourself to look at him, not yet, not right now. Still, Matty hears you loud and clear. You can feel his grip on you tighten ever so slightly.

“Oh, love — I’m sorry.” 

You spit out the next words before you can stop yourself.

“He cheated on me.”

You’re practically choking on the severity of your words, and Matty seems to be having a similar reaction because he doesn’t say anything, not for a long while.

You expected him to cuss your ex-boyfriend out, to threaten him, to insult him. What you didn’t expect was this silence. Matty’s usually all fire and impulse, so why is he choosing this moment to suddenly be quiet? You begrudgingly pull your head away from his chest and look up at him. You assumed you’d see the gears turning behind his eyes, the muscle ticking in his jaw as he considered what to say. But for once, Matty looks genuinely shocked, like he doesn’t even know where to begin, as though the concept of someone cheating on you is so far-fetched he can’t even bring himself to believe it. His breath hitches almost violently as he stares at you, his eyes softening. When he finally speaks, his voice is barely more than a whisper.

“What do you need?” he asks. “Whatever you need, you’ve got it. Don’t care if it takes all night.” 

He reaches for your hands, pressing his thumbs into the palms of your hands as he rubs small circles into the skin. He’s not really holding them, not quite — but that doesn’t stop electricity from surging up your arms like you’ve just touched a live wire instead of a man. You can feel your heart skip a beat. If he notices the change in your demeanor, he doesn’t say. He just repeats himself, his voice a little firmer than before. 

“Tell me what you need.”

“I just… I need it to stop hurting.”

“Okay.”

That’s how the two of you end on your balcony, sitting cross-legged against the door, knees nearly touching as you pass a joint back and forth. While the alcohol had just served to make you more miserable, the weed was actually having the intended effect — it was evening you out. All of the events from the day were starting to feel far away, and you felt like you could look at them with clarity for the first time. Best of all, talking about it didn’t make you want to jump off your roof anymore.

Matty had been hesitant to suggest smoking, mumbling something about how you were probably already dehydrated and in desperate need of some electrolytes more than anything else, but once you forced yourself to drink a full glass of water in front of him, he seemed to soften. 

The joint seemed to have loosened Matty’s lips, too, because now, he’s not holding back. He lets you talk as much as you need to, vent, rant, but he’s also sure to get in his own insults here and there.

“You were always too good for him, anyway,” he says at the end of one of your particularly heated rants, joint hanging carelessly between his index and middle finger. “He was a piece of shit. Never liked him.”

This information doesn’t exactly come as a surprise. Your ex didn’t really care for Matty, either. It was a mutual distaste that only intensified the longer the relationship went on. Hell, Matty had been the source of a fair amount of your arguments in recent months, but you’d never told him that. You hadn’t wanted him to know how possessive and jealous your ex could get because you didn’t want him to worry. But now, you didn’t really have anything to lose. It’s not like you need to try to maintain your ex’s reputation anymore — he ruined it himself.

You laugh. Even though it’s bitter, you can see a smile tug at the corner of Matty’s lips at the sound.

“Yeah, well, the feeling was mutual,” you say, extending your hand towards him. He passes you the joint wordlessly.

“Why?” Matty asks after a few seconds of silence, waiting for you to take a drag and exhale the smoke into the night air before speaking. 

You shrug in response. 

“He thought you were a pretentious asshole,” you say, a small grin forming on your lips. “Which — he was right about, for the record.”

Matty turns his head and smiles at you, all teeth and boyish charm, and suddenly, you’re fifteen again and sitting across from him for the first time in that God awful math class. You barely passed — your parents had been furious and blamed him for your bad grades rather than your shitty teacher. But Matty had been the only part of that class that you actually enjoyed, and if it hadn’t been for him, you’re pretty sure you would have dropped it altogether. In a weird roundabout way, Matty is the only reason you actually got through the class… even if you two had spent more time talking about music and poetry than actually taking notes.

The memory makes something warm rise in your chest, and you quickly suppress it by taking another drag of the joint before passing it back to him.

“Everyone knows I’m a pretentious asshole. Matty’s fingers brush against yours as he takes the joint off your hands. “Including — last time I checked — people who like me.” He tilts his head at you with a coy grin.

You laugh. “And?”

“And…” Matty leaves you in suspense as he breathes in the smoke, holding it in his lungs for a couple of seconds before tilting his head up and blowing it out. Your eyes linger on his throat for a second too long, noting how his Adam’s apple bobs as he exhales. “You don’t hate me. So your ex must’ve not liked me for a different reason.”

He’s right, of course. There’s more to the story. But you’re not sure how much you want to tell Matty, not right now, not like this. 

“Yeah, I guess so,” you reply. It’s a weak response. You know it is. Matty’s face lights up at the sound of it, suddenly inquisitive. Too inquisitive.

“Yeah?” he asks conspiratorially, like he’s just stumbled upon classified information that he isn’t supposed to have access to. “You wanna share with the class?”

His wording makes you roll your eyes and scoff, but that only seems to encourage him more. Matty turns his entire body towards you, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees. The joint’s still suspended between his lips.

“Come on,” he whines. “I could list off a million reasons why I hated the scumbag. Number one —“

“Oh my God,” you reply with a laugh, but Matty’s already committed. He begins listing off your ex’s undesirable traits, counting them on his fingers as he does so.

It’s ridiculous.

It’s adorable. 

“Number one,” he resumes, “he never took you out. Ever. You deserve to do shit, like… proper, fun shit. Not just sit in your flat every time he comes over.” He pauses. “No offense to your flat.”

“None taken.”

“Two — I never saw him hold your hand.”

That observation causes you to raise an eyebrow. You hadn’t actually considered that — but now that you’re thinking about it, yeah, Matty’s right. Your ex barely ever held your hand, at least not in public.

How did Matty realize that, but not you?

“I dunno,” you reply. “He wasn’t big into PDA.”

“Riiiiiight,” he says sarcastically. “Like that’s an excuse. Bullshit.”

You frown. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Matty clicks his lighter, reigniting the end of the joint with a hiss. “I just don’t get how someone could date you and not want to show you off.”  He says it dismissively, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and he takes another hit. “That dickhead should’ve been so fucking flattered that you even wanted to be with him.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Thankfully, Matty speaks before you have to.

“Three — his favorite band was fucking Imagine Dragons.”

The unexpected vitriol in his voice makes you laugh, and before you can stop yourself, you’re reaching out to snatch the joint away from him. Matty frowns playfully at your actions but doesn’t protest, parting his lips slightly to make it easier for you.

“What’s wrong with Imagine Dragons?”

“What isn’t wrong with Imagine Dragons?” Matty exclaims, throwing his hands up. “They just say words.”

“You just say words,” you counter. Matty’s eyes narrow.

“Yeah, but my words fuck,” he says smugly. (Of course, he’d say some shit like that.) “They mean something. Dan Reynolds just repeats himself and thinks he’s saying something important.”

“Radioactive is a catchy song,” you say, taking a hit.

“Yeah, if you’ve never heard music before,” he counters, and the intensity with which he says it makes you laugh hard and — oh shit. 

You quickly lower the joint as you feel the smoke begin to irritate your throat. You blow out as much as you can before you start coughing, and you can hear Matty chuckling next to you. You shove him in the shoulder, hard, but that only makes him laugh more.

“Sorry,” he says in a tone that makes you very confident that he is actually not sorry at all. But despite that, he wordlessly hands you a water bottle, and you quickly take a few sips from it, trying to soothe your burning throat. Once you stop coughing, you turn back to him, noting the amused expression on his face.

“Dick.”

“Lightweight,” Matty replies, but there’s no bite to his words. Instead, that same boyish smile is plastered across his features. You tell yourself it’s probably tied to whatever strain you happen to be smoking at the time, but for some reason, it makes your chest ache.

You sit like that for a little while, soaking in the soft sounds of the city after dark. It’s getting late, but you can still hear the distant rush of cars and the occasional blare of a siren. It’s a bit windy out tonight, and you can hear the soft rustle of the trees planted on the street down below. And if you really focus, you can hear the sound of Matty’s breathing, low and grounding. 

(You could get lost in that sound if you’re not careful.)

Predictably, Matty is the first one to shatter the serenity of the moment.

“Alright. I showed you mine, now show me yours.”

“What?”

“I gave you three very good reasons why I didn’t like the guy,” Matty says. “Now I want you to give me three equally good reasons.”

That feels like faulty reasoning, but you have no intention of backing out now, and you’re sure Matty knows that too. You think back to some of the unpleasant conversations you’d had with your ex. It doesn’t take long to come up with the first thing.

“He didn’t like that you smoked,” you say. Matty reacts about as well as you were expecting — he scoffs and rolls his eyes, stealing the joint back just to prove a point.

“What a fucking loser.”

“He was asthmatic.”

Matty takes a hit and tilts his head to the side, unimpressed. “Just because he was asthmatic doesn’t mean he wasn’t a loser.”

You can’t exactly argue with that.

“He called you an attention whore.”

“Was that before or after he called me a ‘pretentious asshole?’”

“Hm,” you say with a smirk. “Depended on the day.”

Of course, you’re joking — you never let your ex get away with insulting Matty to your face. You’d always push back against it, always defend him, remind your piece of shit ex that you’d known Matty for way longer than you’d known him and that if he wanted to date you, that meant respecting your friends, including Matty. 

Unfortunately, your defense of him had a tendency to start more arguments. You don’t know what set him off — you never did. Maybe he had seen you and Matty lean in a little too close, laugh at each other’s jokes a little too hard. Whatever the reason, your ex had seemingly woken up one morning and decided that Matty was public enemy number one. 

That was really the beginning of the end of the relationship, if you were being honest. The cheating was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Okay, that’s two,” Matty said, suddenly sounding impatient. “C’mon, tell me something I don’t already know. Something deep.”

Jesus. You forgot how annoying Matty could be when he wanted something.

“You gave me fucking Imagine Dragons as your third reason.” 

“That was deep, thank you very much,” Matty replies, offended.

“Whatever.”

You expect him to bite back a reply, but Matty falls silent, and with that silence comes a tight feeling in your chest. He wants deep? You can get deep. You can address what you’ve been avoiding talking about for the entire night, tell him the real reason your ex despised him so much. Open up about the devastating, dangerous truth that neither you nor Matty would ever speak out loud because that isn’t how your friendship works, and it will never be how your friendship works.

The two of you thrive in the gray. You always have. The space between the said and the unsaid is where you and Matty do what you do best. It’s why you don’t call him out for holding your hand when he gets drunk, and he doesn’t ask you why you let him.

The gray is safe. It’s easy. It’s noncommittal. It’s a silent pact the pair of you have spent years carefully crafting into something that is mutually beneficial and still entirely undefinable if anyone else asks you about it. And God knows, your ex asked a lot about it.

‘Are you in love with him?’ he’d asked you angrily one night a few months ago. You were already in the middle of an argument, and he’d brought Matty into it, like he always did. And you’d made the mistake of defending him, like you always did.

‘What are you talking about?’ you’d responded, trying to stay calm even though you could hear the blood pounding in your ears. 

‘Are you in love with the asshole?’

‘What? No.’

(A part of you had known it was a lie then. You know it was definitely a lie now.) 

‘Yeah, well, he’s in love with you. I know you think everyone’s too dumb to see it, but I’m not.’

And then he’d left your flat in a fit of rage, slamming the door shut with so much force it made the walls shake.

The memory fills your veins with ice, and you begin to fidget with the sleeve of your shirt, trying to distract yourself from the emotional discomfort through some physical, tangible means.

Fuck it.

Fuck him.

“He didn’t like how close we were.” Your words don’t sound like your own — they slip from your lips before you can stop them. 

Matty doesn’t respond — he just passes you the joint, as though he can tell you’re gonna need it for this.

You take your time lifting it to your lips and taking a drag. It’s beginning to taste bitter — nearly burned out entirely. Might as well make the most of it. You exhale without looking at Matty. 

“Uh… he was worried I was gonna leave him for you,” you say, head foggy enough from the weed to not feel like you’re going to die if you keep talking about this. “We had a lot of fights about it, actually. I guess he saw you as a threat.” You shrug, rubbing at your eyes with your free hand. God, when did it get so late? “And I think he was afraid that I was gonna wake up one day and realize what a shitty boyfriend he was and run to you. I don’t know. It — it was stupid. Plus, he ended up cheating on me, so I guess I should’ve been the one worrying about him.”

You take another drag, breathing in the smoke slowly, trying to focus on the feeling of it settling in your lungs instead of anything else. You hold it there until your chest feels tight, and only then do you exhale shakily. Then, you stub the joint out on the balcony railing, heart racing.

“He thought you were in love with me.”

You regret it the second you say it. You can hear Matty’s breath hitch, and you suddenly wish you hadn’t just finished the joint so you’d have something, anything else to focus on but him.

When you finally bring yourself to look back over at him, the expression on Matty’s face makes your heart stutter in your chest. At some point during your monologue, some of his curls had fallen into his face, partially obscuring one of his eyes. Even in the dim glow of the distant streetlights, you can see the way his hands are nothing more than white knuckles, digging into his thighs. You notice the tension in his jaw, the way his nostrils flare as he seems to be going out of his way to take deep, even breaths.

And then there’s the way he’s looking at you. There’s nothing soft about it —it’s piercing, strained, as if he can barely fucking stand to even hold your gaze. You’ve seen Matty look at you in just about every way possible during the years you’ve known him — with kindness, with concern, with laughter in his eyes. (And, of course, that one night early on in your friendship where you guys got a little too drunk and a little too close to crossing a line you couldn’t come back from. That night, he had stared at you like he wanted to eat you alive.)

But you’ve never seen him look at you like this.

You’ve never seen him look at anyone like this.

When Matty finally speaks, his tone is calm and measured in a way that doesn’t match his physical demeanor. 

“Would you have?”

His question confuses you. “Have what?”

“Left him for me.”

His question hangs in the air between the two of you, thicker than any smoke. You can practically taste his words; the hope, the fear, the unspoken tension contained in them. How are you supposed to answer a question like that? How can Matty even expect you to answer?

“Matty.” Your tone is pleading, practically begging. For what, though, you’re not sure. 

Don’t make me answer this? 

Don’t make me tell you the truth? 

Don’t force me to put my feelings for you into words?

Your own gaze drops to your hands and the awkward, uncomfortable way they’re folded in your lap.

“If something was gonna happen, it would have by now,” you say matter-of-factly, as though that’s the end of the conversation… as though Matty would ever allow it to be.

But despite how rational you’re trying to sound, you know the situation between the two of you is anything but. Because, if you were actually being honest, then you’d remind yourself how you’ve had feelings for Matty on and off for the entirety of your friendship, feelings that you did your best to switch off whenever he was dating a new girl, or you were dating some loser. The alternative stung too much, especially when Matty seemed to go out of his way to remind you that the feelings weren’t reciprocated. You’d walked in on him making out with a random girl enough times for you know that he wasn’t the least bit interested in you in that way, and you’d made peace with that. 

Really. You had.

(Except for those nights where you would find yourself alone in your bed and your mind would inevitably begin to wander, conjuring up visions of pure, unfiltered desire. You’d think about Matty’s hands, the way you’ve seen his fingers masterfully move along the fretboard of his guitar in a way that has always felt almost sensual to you. You’d wonder what they’d feel like — wrapped around your throat as he kisses you, digging into your thighs as he pushes you apart for him, pressing inside of you as he fingerfucks you and makes stars explode behind your eyes.

You’d imagine what he’d feel like pushing inside of you, taking his time, stretching you out ever-so-carefully as he kissed you and swallowed your moans. You’d picture him on top of you, underneath you, holding your hips tightly as he makes you come on his cock again and again and again.

And you’d hear his voice as clear as day as you made yourself come with your own fingers in a way that never felt like enough, telling you how beautiful you were, telling you how good you took him, telling you he loved you.

And then you’d lie there in your shame and disgust and force yourself to go to sleep.)

“Did you hear what I just said?”

Matty’s voice startles you and you jolt, head turning back to look at him. His expression is just as intense as you remembered and your stomach flips.

“What?” you ask, mouth suddenly feeling dry, and not just from the weed. His brow furrows.

“Are you feeling alright?” 

Fuck.

“Yeah,” you reply, shaking you head. “I’m fine.” Matty begins to open his mouth like he’s going to challenge you on if you’re actually alright, which you can’t deal with right now, not when you just had a waking wet dream about your best friend, so you cut him off before he can. “What were you saying?”

The corner of his mouth twitches and he shakes his head. “Forget it.”

“No, I want to know,” you insist. You desperately need a distraction. “Sorry. I’ll listen this time. I promise.”

Matty pauses, worrying his lip between his teeth as though he’s fighting some sort of internal battle you don’t know about. But eventually, your answer seems to convince him.

“Alright.” He lets out a low sigh. “You’ve gotta stop doing this to yourself.”

“Doing what?”

“Dating guys who treat you like shit.” 

And suddenly, you wish you hadn’t asked him to repeat himself.

Matty says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, but it’s not. It’s not like you seek out these men. All of your relationships always begin well… it’s just the endings that are shitty. Now that you think about it, you don’t think you’ve ever had an amicable breakup. Maybe that’s your fault for not getting out of bad relationships sooner, but for some reason, you hate the way Matty says it, like he thinks you’re stupid, like you’re some kind of masochist who enjoys having your heart broken over and over again.

Something ugly twists in your chest, and your fingers tighten, nails biting into your palms.

“Like you have a better track record,” you snap. You sound more hurt than you intended, and Matty’s eyes widen ever so slightly at the harsh tone of your voice. His lips part, like he wants to say something, but you cut him off before he can. “Don’t act like you haven’t dated any shitty people. I’ve seen plenty of your relationships crash and burn too, Matty.”

One secret that you’ve picked up on in your years of knowing him is that Matty has never had a good poker face, especially when you call him on his shit. This time is no different. You can tell he’s fighting the urge to apologize, but his ego — always his fucking ego — won’t let him. You watch as the muscle in his jaw twitches, frustrated.

“Like who?”

The question makes you want to laugh. Jesus. There are so many to choose from. 

“Like that cute blonde girl you were dating.”

“Which one?” he asks pointedly. You genuinely can’t tell if he’s trying to tease you or if he truly cannot remember. Either way, you’re not in the mood.

“The one with the cat that hated you,” you reply, and recognition suddenly floods Matty’s expression.

“Oh. Her?” He sounds more confused than you were expecting, seeing as they were together for nearly a year. (You would know. You’re the one who drove him to pick up his shit from her place after they got into the relationship-ending fight that you’d always known was coming.) “She just wanted to date a guy in a band,” Matty says, waving his hand dismissively. 

“And you wanted a hot girl you could show off at gigs.” Your voice has an edge that you weren’t expecting. Matty’s body jerks back ever so slightly, lightly thudding against the balcony railing. He’s behaving like your words physically pained him.

“I was nineteen,” he replies, his tone betraying the fact that you’ve hit a nerve. You feel an ounce of regret. “I didn’t know what I wanted.”

“And now you do?” You mean to sound sarcastic, maybe even a little bitter, but the comeback falls flat. At anything, it sounds almost hopeful.

What the fuck is wrong with you?

Matty doesn’t dignify you with a response. Typical. He looks too sober to be having this conversation. You feel too sober to be having it. The cool night air suddenly feels stifling as you become aware of just how close the two of you are, how you’ve been unconsciously leaning in this whole time, even when he moved back. You see the way his chest rises and falls with every breath he takes, how his hands twitch against his sides, and how his mind appears to be racing a thousand miles a minute.

You’d love to know what’s going on in that head of his, but it seems like for once in his life, Matty’s chosen this moment to shut up, and that makes you angry.

“Oh my God,” you finally say, letting out a frustrated groan. “What do you want me to say, Matty? That you’re right? That I keep dating dickheads because, what, because I don’t know how to do anything else?”

You can feel your throat tightening the longer you go on, but you can’t stop yourself. It’s like you’ve just ripped the bandaid off of a wound that has been festering for a very, very long time, and it needs to breathe.

“Jesus Christ. I’m sorry I’m so… so pathetic, and I have such a shitty taste in men, okay?” you spit. “I’m sorry I need you to come save me every time something goes wrong. I’m sorry I’m such a lost cause that I’m stuck taking dating advice from… from…” You trail off, letting out a frustrated sigh. “Fuck, Matty. Why can’t you just…”

Fuck off?

Leave me alone?

Tell me you love me?

“Fuck.”

You fall silent and bring your hands up to your face, hiding behind them. Your head hurts. Everything hurts. You close your eyes and feel like crying again, but you fight off the urge because you can practically feel Matty’s eyes burning a hole through you. He always has a way of making you feel seen, even at your worst moments. (Especially at your worst moments.)

When he speaks, his voice is louder than you expected.

“I’ve never thought you were pathetic.”

You crack open your eyes and realize with a start that he’s moved closer to you. He’s kneeling now, leaning towards you, and you watch as he hesitantly extends a hand, bringing it to rest ever so carefully against your ankle. His touch is featherlight, as though he’s afraid that if he touches you any more than that, you’ll push him away. You can feel his thumb run along the tendon at the back of your ankle, caressing the bare skin where your pajama pants have ridden up from the way you’re sitting. 

You can’t tell if he’s trying to ground you or himself.

“I’m not –” Matty’s voice cracks, and you can tell he’s struggling so hard to stay calm, to pick his words carefully so nothing that he says can be misunderstood and get him into trouble. “I’m not here cos I have some hero complex. You – you do know that, right? I need to know you know that.” The desperation in his voice breaks your heart all over again. “I’m here because I care about you. Cos I… I…”

He cuts himself off before he can finish that sentence, eyes dropping down to where his hand is resting against your skin.

“I always thought you were gonna find someone better,” he says softly. “Someone more stable, I guess? I dunno. Fuck.” He runs a hand through his hair, pushing the messy curls out of his face as though they’re suddenly an annoyance. “Someone who could actually give you what you deserve. But every time I’ve seen you cry cos some dickhead has broken your heart because he doesn’t realize how fucking lucky he is, I’ve always thought – or known, I guess? – yeah, I’ve known.”

Matty’s eyes meet your own again, but he stares at you with an uncomfortable stiffness that suggests even looking at you right now is a behemoth task for him. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him look this frightened. You don’t like it.

“Matty –” you start, trying to talk him down, but he cuts you off.

“Let me finish. Or else I’m never gonna get this out, okay? Please.”

You shut your mouth.

“I hated seeing you wasting your time with those assholes,” he continues. “I knew you were unhappy, and I tried – God, I tried so fucking hard to be there. Be a shoulder to cry on. Be a good… be a good friend. And the whole time, the only thing I could think about was how… how that should’ve been me. How I wanted to be them. How I always wanted to be them.”

Matty’s words slice through your like a dagger. You can feel your heartbeat pounding, frenzied and strong. The sounds of the night have faded into the background, replaced by the sound of Matty’s voice and of blood pumping in your ears. A part of you expects your alarm clock to go off at any minute and for you to be woken up from this dream with a jolt. But the nervous pit in your stomach reminds you that this is painfully real.

Matty is real, and the feelings that he is telling you about, feelings that have been years in the making? Those are real, too.

They’ve always been real.

But before you can even attempt to formulate a response, to tell him you feel the same way, Matty’s abruptly pulling away from you, shaking his head, running his hand through his hair. The sudden lack of contact fills you with a sense of intense loss, and your heart protests painfully in your chest.

“Shit,” he says, sounding panicked. “Shit, I’m sorry. Uh, I – forget I said anything, yeah. Fuck, just fucked everything up, didn’t–”

“Stop talking.”

Your hand closes around his arm before he can move any further, and he freezes in his tracks, eyes darting down to where your fingers have wrapped around the cool leather of his jacket. Your grip is firm but not painful – he can get out of it if he wants to. Hell, he could get up right now and leave your flat without a word and never talk about this again, never speak to you ever again. 

You’re terrified that he will.

But he doesn’t. 

Matty stays anchored to the spot, lets out a shaky little breath, and whispers your name like it’s a prayer. 

Something in you snaps.

You close the distance between the two of you in an instant, pressing your lips into his with a kiss that has been nearly a decade in the making. Your mind fizzles as your lips slot against his, and you immediately know that this isn’t a dream, because this feels better than kissing Matty ever did in your dreams. 

You’re not sure anything in your entire life has ever felt this good. 

He tastes exactly how you expected – like weed and cigarettes. His lips are slightly chapped from the cold air, but you can’t bring yourself to mind because it’s Matty and you love him and you always have.

You feel a pair of strong arms instantly wrapping around your back, pressing you forward. You feel Matty shift, stretch out his legs, and then you’re scrambling to be as near to him as possible, crawling into his lap like you can’t bear any sort of distance between the two of you. Not anymore.

One of his hands moves up to your cheek, tilting your head back ever so slightly as he deepens the kiss with a sweet desperation that makes your head spin.

You kiss him until you physically can’t anymore, and when you pull away, both of you are panting. He looks like he just had his entire world turned on its head as he stares at you, pupils blown wide and lips still parted. Some of his curls have fallen back into his face, and without thinking, you reach up to push them back, and you can feel Matty’s breath hitch when your fingertips brush against his skin. 

“Should’ve done that a long time ago,” he says breathlessly, and lets out a nervous little laugh.

You think it’s the sweetest noise you’ve ever heard.

You go back in for another kiss and Matty responds by hooking his arm around the base of your spine and kissing you like a starving man. When his tongue swipes across your lower lip, you let out a soft keen at the dizzying sensation, and you can feel Matty practically shudder underneath you. Your hips press flush into his, and when the seam of his jeans catches against your core just right, the noise that escapes your lips is borderline debaucherous.

You’re suddenly possessed by a desire to touch him, to feel more of his skin, and your hands scramble to get his jacket off. You get about halfway through pushing the sleeves down his arms before he pulls away, bringing one of his hands up to cover your own.

Your heart drops and you immediately withdraw your touch.

Oh fuck.

You’ve just ruined it, haven’t you? Either that, or he’s come to his senses. You’ve seen him practically shove his tongue down a stranger’s throat more times than you can count. You’ve never seen him turn down sex. So… what’s wrong with you? 

“You don’t want to…?” Your own voice sounds small. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. No wonder he doesn’t want you.

Maybe it was just the weed that was making him say all those things. 

Maybe he doesn’t actually give a fuck. 

Maybe you just threw your friendship away over nothing.

But when Matty smiles at you and looks at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in his entire life, your racing mind calms itself, and you realize you don’t have anything to worry about. His hands close around yours, pressing his thumbs into the top of your palms just like he had earlier on in the evening. God, that felt like forever ago. 

“Oh, I want to,” Matty groans. “Fuck, I’ve wanted to for so long. Thought about it more times than I can count.”

 He swallows hard and you feel your cheeks heat up at the implication behind his words. You can’t help but wonder how many nights he’s stayed awake doing the exact thing you were so ashamed of, wishing you were there, only to finish in his hand with a stifled groan and a deep sense of self-loathing.

Matty’s releases one of your hands and brings it up to cradle your cheek. His thumb strokes against your skin, tracing your jawbone as he stares at you with a softness that makes your heart skip a beat. 

“But I wanna be sober,” he says. “And I want you to be sober, too, love. Want you to remember every second of it. Want it to mean something.” 

This is a new side of Matty, one that you’ve never seen before. His sentimentality surprises you. It’s not behavior that you’re used to seeing on men. You don’t think any of your boyfriends have ever cared about making your first time with them particularly meaningful – you’re suddenly reminded of the months or even years it took to coach them to actually care about someone else’s pleasure besides their own. And here’s Matty – who, if you’re being honest, is notorious in your friend group for being a little bit of a whore – being the only man whose ever actually treated you like this before. He’s not looking at you like he’s expecting anything more out of this, out of you. He’s just staring at you like you’re the most precious thing in the entire world.

You love him for it.

“Stay with me,” you whisper, squeezing his hands. “We don’t have to do anything, I just…” You trail off. The thought of sleeping in an empty bed tonight makes your heart sink. “I just want you to stay. Please.” 

Before you even finish your request, you know his answer, but that doesn’t mean your heart doesn’t stutter in your chest when he agrees.

“Of course I’ll stay.”

It’s that same hand that wraps around your waist a few minutes later as the pair of you settle beneath the blankets of your unmade bed. Matty’s fingers splay against your stomach as he pulls you tight against him, holding you close. You can feel his breath tickle the back of your neck as he tucks his nose into your hair, breathing you in. 

You think about how badly you need to take a shower. 

He doesn’t seem to mind. 

(You’re still going to take one as soon as you wake up in the morning.)

As you lay there wordlessly, you can feel his fingers tracing indiscernible patterns onto your skin. You consider asking him what he’s doing, what it means, but you decide against it as your eyes flutter shut. The question almost feels almost too personal. Still, you press your hand against his wrist, ensuring that he continues etching his secrets into the thin fabric of your shirt.

Matty’s body is lithe and warm against yours. The faint smell of tobacco invades your senses, just enough to remind you of his presence as you feel sleep slowly begin to overtake you. You want nothing more than to turn to him, to tell you that you’ve loved him for as long as you’ve known him, but you’re painfully aware that you can’t even say those words when you’re sober, so how exactly are you supposed to get them out when you’re stoned?

“You’re thinking.”

Matty’s voice cuts through the dark of your bedroom like a blade. It’s deeper than usual – rough from exhaustion, you assume. The night has taken just as much out of him as it has taken out of you. 

You smile, not that he can see it.

“Yeah.”

“Wanna share?” 

When you speak next, it’s a mumbled whisper, muffled by your pillow. “Not right now.”

You almost add, ‘it’s not important,’ but that would be a flat-out lie, and you know he’d see right through it. 

You feel Matty shift ever so slightly against you. You can picture the small frown on his face that he gets when he’s not fully satisfied with something. But if he has something to say, he keeps it to himself, and you feel him relax once more against your back.

You’re not sure when sleep finally claims you, but the last thing you feel is his arms tightening around you ever so slightly, like he’s afraid you’ll slip out of his arms if he’s not careful.

April 2007

You pulled the front of the white tank top you were wearing down, allowing the frilly cups of your red bra to peek out the top. Your top tucked into a short black mini skirt, paired with a big chunky belt and hoop earrings and some wedged sandals on your feet. You actually felt good about yourself for once! You, Sarah and Rebecca ready to get drunk and dance your asses off with all of your friends as you celebrated Matty’s birthday.

Matty’s 18th birthday party was being held at his house. A classic Healy house party yet you still wondered how Denise and Tim were somehow trusting him enough for the night to not burn the house down so he could celebrate his birthday with his friends without parental supervision.

You of course had yet to turn eighteen, as had your brother who was only eleven months older than you. So you turned to your lord and saviour Adam Hann who went to the local off license and bought you a pack of Bacardi Breezers for the party.

When the three of you arrived; you immediately got swept away by your other school friends, giggling at the thought of getting drunk with all your friends and making out with boys your brother would definitely disapprove of was the motivation you needed to open your first drink of the evening.

It was after a few drinks, definitely too many shots of whatever George had proclaimed Matty’s Dad’s had left for the birthday boy. You were starting to feel the effects of the alcohol you had drunk that evening when you spotted Max. Tall, brunette, curly hair and a killer watt smile that made you weak at the knees, talking to George.

Silent motivation from Phoebe as she ruffled her hands through your hair and pushing your tits into a good position as Sarah dabbed on some more lip gloss before pushing you in the direction of the boys, slapping your ass with a quick “Go get him tiger!”

Shooting her a grin over your shoulder, you strutted on over to where George and Max stood clutching their beer bottles as they conversed about god knows what. Hoping to catch his attention, you threw on your best smile as you stopped in front of the two of them. 

“Hello boys!” You beamed a the two of them, eyes lingering on Max a little longer. “Having a good night?”  You asked, twiddling the straw around your drink as you waited for their answer.

“Even better now you’re here gorgeous!” 

Your heart fluttered for a moment. Max was flirting back.

“Your tits are looking mega tonight babe!” 

George broke your eye contact with the tall brunette as your eyes flitted towards him. The blush flushing across your cheeks at George’s compliment, “Ohhh thanks G!”  You laughed awkwardly, catching his eyes fall to your tits once more just as Ross walked past the three of you.

“Dude! That’s my sister!” He punched him in the arm; a scowl on his face and immediately pulling you away with him and far away from the boys and into the crowd of people dancing in Denise and Tim’s living room.

“You’re no fun!”  You huffed.

“You can do a lot better than Max sis. Believe me! I’m just looking out for you.” 

He smiled softly at you and you sighed, knowing you couldn’t ever stay mad at him. He knew you better than anyone else and always looked out for you no matter what. “Thanks bro.  I know. I’m just going to get some fresh air, it’s a bit stuffy in here.” 

You sent him a smile, squeezing past him and all the other sweaty bodies to head out the sliding doors at the back of Matty’s kitchen. Letting out the breath you hadn’t realised you had been holding as the cool spring air brushed over your skin. Taking in the serenity of the night air, you didn’t realise anyone else was out there until you heard a cough causing you to snap your head towards the noise.

Matty was leaning up against the back wall, cigarette hanging from his lips.

“Alright birthday boy! What you doing out here by yourself?” You laughed lightly as you approached; leaning next to him as you took in the slightly solemn look on his face.

“Bit overwhelming in there. Thought I’d like the attention but there’s too many people. Half of them are just here to get drunk, they don’t care about me.” He laughed bitterly; blowing smoke into the air. “Anyway. What are you doing out here?”

“Just needed some air. It was a bit stuffy in there. Too many people.”

“Ahhh so we’re alike in our thinking.” Matty laughed. “Wish it was just you and the boys to be honest.” He mumbled, shuffling his feet.

“Hey. You know if you want we can have a do over. Come over to mine and Ross’ tomorrow. We’ll order pizza and watch True Romance. I’d hate for you to not look back fondly at your 18th.”  You smiled softly as you spoke.

“You’re brilliant.” Matty’s eyes bright as he looked at you. “I’d really like that. Thanks sweetheart.”  Matty shot you a genuine smile for the first time since you stepped outside.

A brief moment of silence settled across the two of you before Matty spoke again.

“You look incredible tonight.”

“Ohhh.” You looked down at your feet, unsure of how to take the compliment.

“Hey.” Matty lifted your chin up. “What’s all that about? You’re the most beautiful girl in the room.” He said earnestly; swiping at the apples of your cheeks and holding your jaw in his hands.

“Just didn’t think anyone could look past the fact I’m Ross’ sister. Nobody ever calls me beautiful.”

“Not even Josh? Didn’t you date him for nearly a year?”  Matty asked as you shook your head.

“Then he’s an idiot. You’re always the most beautiful girl in the room darling.”

“Matty.” 

It came out a whisper as you both stared into each other’s brown eyes. Matty’s eyes dancing across your features, settling on your lips before looking back up and catching your gaze already on him. Matty leaned in, his face getting closer to your own as your mind started racing. 

Did you want to kiss Matty? Kinda, yeah! 

Should you kiss Matty? No, definitely not. Ross would kill the both of you. 

Did you kiss Matty? Yes.

“We shouldn’t.”  You whispered, lips mere inches away from his own.

“But a birthday kiss is all I want this year.” 

His words came out of a whisper, you didn’t say anything else just pushed your lips against his and allowed him to pull you closer as his mouth moved against the softness of your glossed lips. His hands moving from your face, dancing down the sides of your body and landing on your waist before he reluctantly pulled away, forehead resting against your own.

“You’re good at that.” He pecked your lips once more.

“Mmmm.”  You hummed; opening your eyes as Matty held you close. You quickly opened your mouth to say something and promptly shut it again when you caught the way Matty looked at you. “Fuck it!” You mumbled and slammed your lips back against his own.

The birthday boy now pushing you up against the wall, hands impossibly tight on your waist as he pulled you as physically close as possible. Your hands uprooting themselves in the hair at the back of his neck and tugging as you snogged him like your life depended on it. Like you weren’t pushed against the back of his kitchen wall in his garden, where any of your school friends could come out and catch you. Or worse; your brother but you didn’t care because the way Matty was kissing you made your whole body tingle.

Tugging his hair again as his tongue moved against your own. Matty groaned loudly; finally pulling away. “Fuck settle down! You know I can’t be found with you and if you keep doing that, someone is going hear us.” He groaned as he continued to pepper kisses up the side of your jaw.

“Hmmm, don’t feel like being murdered by my brother right now.”  You sighed; leaning back against the wall to take him in. Lips swollen and eyes bright as he watched you.

“I don’t want to be murdered by your brother either. Worst birthday ever!” He chuckled; hands dancing across your waist. “But that was my favourite birthday gift! Thanks sweetheart!” Matty grinned; watching you push yourself off the wall and smooth yourself down before heading back towards the house.

You paused for a moment; your foot on the last step, your hand lingering on the handle to the back door for a millisecond as you looked over your shoulder one last time at Matty who was just watching you. You sent him a soft smile, your hair falling in front of your face as you laughed before leaving him the dark as you rejoined the party.

A kiss with Matty who was your big brother’s (and your) annoying friend, someone you had an innocent schoolgirl crush on once he started becoming a tiny bit cool as the lead singer in their band. Something you didn’t think was an overly big deal, after all people kiss people they shouldn’t when they’re drunk all the time. Turns out it was the starting point of the trajectory of how your’s and Matty’s story begun.

March 2013

In the midst of releasing a series of EPs and gigging around the country and building up their hardcore fanbase. You had managed to get the boys all to just relax for a moment and celebrate the release of their Music for Cars EP and the fact that it was George’s 23rd birthday this weekend. And how did you celebrate? The only way you lot knew how, a dirty ole’ house party just like the good old days.

You had managed to squeeze God knows how many people in little flat you shared with George and Matty. As far as flatmate’s go, they weren’t all that bad. You had moved in with them straight after university so you had definitely had worse.

You had just downed what you believe was your fifth vodka shot of the evening and decided you needed to pace yourself a bit more if you weren’t going to stumble into your room and pass out any time soon. So upon spotting Ross, you wondered over to your brother who was sat talking to Hann; wiggling your way in between the two of them with a giggle. Ross automatically lifting his arm for you to slip under as you nursed the rest of your wine at a slower pace until your glass was empty.

After your head stopped spinning a sufficient amount, you found yourself milling about the flat and smuggling yourself into Matty’s embrace as he poured you another glass.

“Enjoying yourself sweetheart?” 

“Mmm. Have you see the birthday boy?” You felt Matty’s lips pressed to the top of your head as you asked.

“You leaving me already?”  He chuckled. “Think he popped out the back for a cig.” 

He motioned towards the back door. You immediately unravelled yourself from him, a kiss smacked against his cheek, catching the corner of his mouth. Not that you noticed in your flurry but Matty did. The longing for the feeling of the two of you had shared in his back garden prickling at his chest as his eyes locked onto your retreating figure as you rushed through the throng of remaining people in the kitchen and exiting the flat.

Matty was right. You found George smoking out the back in your little tiny back garden under the dying glimmer of your shit security light that was attached to your back wall. Turning in your direction at the sound of the back door shutting, George automatically opened his arms for you to slot into his side, arm hung loosely over your shoulder as he let out the smoke he had just inhaled. Wordlessly placing the cig in your mouth to let you take a drag yourself, you passed it back and forth between the two of you in silence.

Stubbing the end into the brick, George dropped it into the bucket of dirty filters before breaking the silence. “God what time is it?”  He asked as you watched him push the balls of his hand into his eyes.

“Nearly 2am! Why you need to go to bed Grandad?!”

“Fucking maybe?! How many people are left?” The now blonde motioned towards the house.

“Only a few. Heard Sally talk about some of them heading into town on the way out and Luke and Helen have to be up early so they left nearly a hour ago. Just the band and about three other now. You ready to head in birthday boy?” You asked; holding out your hand for him to take with a smirk.

With a silent nod George didn’t hesitate to grab onto your hand as you tried not to trip over the many plant pots that were littered across your garden path. “You given me my birthday present yet? I can’t remember?” You turned to look at the drummer. An amused look on your face because he had given you the brightest smile when he had opened the personalised drumsticks you had gotten him earlier. “Or are you my present? Wait is this an ambush?” George gasped. “Please be an ambush!” He grinned at you.

“You should be so lucky!”  You scoffed; before shooting him a smirk as you opened the the kitchen door.

“Your tits look mega in that dress by the way!” His tone smug as he closed the kitchen door behind him. Your only response being the cackle that left your mouth as you left George to watch you walk away as you joined the rest of the band in the living room.

Lucky indeed because once the remaining guests left about twenty minutes later. You had snuck into George’s room to say good night and wish him a happy birthday and it’s how you found yourself currently with aching arms. As they were locked either side of George’s knees, his hands tight on your waist as you bounced on his cock.

You weren’t sure how long you had been in this position. You do know he had already made you cum twice though. Once on his tongue and once with his fingers but my God were you spiralling towards your third. The thick drag of his cock between your legs as he stretched you out was delicious but you needed to cum quick because you weren’t sure how long you could stay in this position for.

“Jesus Christ! So fucking good George!” You wailed; as George’s thumb swiped through the slick between your legs and rubbing at your clit.

“Feel good baby?”

“Yes. Shit! So good!” You panted. “Arms hurt though, fuck.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve got you.” He said; pulling you forward.

You fell forward at full speed; having to catch yourself on either side of his face to stop yourself from head butting him as his large hands moved from your hips to grab on to the globes of your ass before plowing up into your cunt so fast you saw stars dance under your eyelids. All you could do was shake and babble out a string of, “So good. So good. So good.” As George made you cum again.

Pulling out quickly. You had no time to recover as George flipped you over; face already in his pillows as he pushed back into you as he chased his own orgasm. The drag of his cock made you feel delirious at the speed in which he was fucking you back into the mattress.

“Fucking hell. You’re so good G! Yes! Yes! Yes!”  You screamed into the mattress, really not caring that your mutual best friend was on the other side of the wall.

His name fell from your lips like a chant. You hadn’t been fucked this good in forever, if at all and the fact it was your Georgie made your head spin.

“Come on baby. One more and I’ll give it to you.” He whispered in your ear, kissing the back of your shoulder before pulling you back on to his cock at rapid speed and sending you hurtling towards your fourth orgasm of the night (well morning) and George to fill you up with a satisfied groan.

Pulling out; your gentle giant rolled over, the pair of you catching your breath after fucking for a good hour. Rolling your head to the side to take him in, you pressed a kiss to the top of his shoulder with a chuckle. “Happy Birthday G!” 

The now blonde let out a loud laugh as the pair of you snuggled into each other’s arms, like you would normally do under any other circumstances as George pressed a kiss to the side of your face. The temporary bliss shielding you both from the circumstances you’d have to face in the morning.

When you did manage to wake up the next morning, George was still fast asleep but his alarm clock read 10:12 and you knew you’d have to get up to tidy the flat because Matty certainly wouldn’t. As you looked around George’s room, you scrambled to find anything to hide your dignity as you moved around to clean up. As you pulled the shirt George was wearing the night before over your bare body, you didn’t have chance to register the other voices on the other side of the bedroom door.

“Where is she? She’s not answering her phone? She’s not in her room either.”

Matty didn’t answer Ross’s question, just grumbled into his arms before flinging himself down onto the dining room table dramatically.

“What’s the matter with you? You look like shit Healy!” Hann shoved his shoulder with a laugh as he threw himself on the sofa.

“Well you’d look like shit if you didn’t get any sleep cause you could hear George fucking at all hours of the night too.” Matty snapped at the two of them.

“Who was he shagging? I thought he wasn’t seeing that blonde anymore?”

Unfortunately for you, this was when you decided to make your grand appearance. Walking out of George’s room in nothing but his shirt and your knickers from the night before. The three of them silent as they took in your appearance.

Adam’s jaw slack as he looked on in shock as everything clicked into place before his very eyes.

Matty looked pained as he ran a hand through his curls before pushing himself up off the dining room table and shuffling into the kitchen, silently flicking the kettle on.

Ross looked angry. You could see it simmering in his eyes. The vein on his neck pulsing as he starred you down.

“I’ve been trying to ring you. Why were you in George’s room? ”

“I’ve been asleep. I’m here now aren’t I? Everything alright?” You brushed past him, trying to avoid talking about the inevitable. You hated when Ross was angry.

“Why do you have George’s shirt on?”

The two of you competed in a stare off. The both of you silent. Neither of you making the next move. If there was one thing you MacDonald siblings were, it was stubborn. Adam was watching on in anticipation. The only noise to be heard was Matty shuffling around the kitchen in the background. Your brother asked you again. Why was he asking you questions he didn’t want to know the answers to.

“Don’t make me say it bro.”  You sighed; annoyance flashing across his features.

“You slept with my best friend?”  Ross immediately started raising his voice. He already knew the answer, he didn’t need your confirmation. Not that he waited for it because he was already storming towards George’s room and right on queue, the door swung open to George just in his boxers.

“Ross. Stop!”  Your voice loud and going ignored.

“YOU SLEPT WITH MY SISTER?!”  

Ross was seething. Hann was immediately by your side ready to intervene. Matty still off and away from the drama (which was very unlike him) that was about to unfold. He was unlawfully quiet but you couldn’t think about that when Ross was squaring off with George in the doorway to your rooms. The shouting sounded like you were under water as you zoned it out. This was a disaster. It was only when Hann touching your arm, whispering if they should intervene or not that brought you back to reality and had you storming right in between the two giants.

Pushing your way in between them. You stood with your back against George’s chest, a hand on your brothers and looking up at him with pleading eyes. “Ross. Please. Fighting George isn’t going to solve anything.”

“You slept. With my sister. What about fucking bro code?! Not cool dude!”

“It was me.” You shouted over the top of his booming voice, all four of them turning to look at you as you very rarely raised your voice. “It was me. I initiated it. So if you’re going to be mad at someone, shout at me because it’s my fault.”

“Babe you don’t have to defend me.” George touched your shoulder gently. “I know, we shouldn’t have done it.”

“Don’t touch her!” Ross zoned in on George’s hands upon your shoulders. He quickly lifted them up in surrender.

“George, we’re both consenting adults.” You addressed him before turning back to your brother. “I’m sorry but if you’re going to sulk about it, blame me because I started it. Ross you know I love you more than anything in this world but you can’t hate everyone that goes near me.”  You reached for his hand to give it a squeeze. “It was literally a one night stand. Promise it won’t happen again.”

Ross tried to pull his hand out of yours at your words, the vein in his neck twitching at the fucked up thought of his little sister casually sleeping around. “I’m not fucking happy about it. Fucking bro code dude.” He threw his hands up dramatically before turning towards the door. “I’m going for some fresh air.” 

Ross quickly yanked open the front door, Hann hot on his tail, muttering something about checking on him which left you with Matty and George. The three of you standing in silence for a moment before George popped a kiss on top of your head and mumbling about a cig and heading out the back.

Matty disappeared again into the kitchen as you plonked yourself down at the dining room table with a groan. The ticking of the clock the only thing to be heard as the two of you were now the only ones left in your tiny flat. Sitting down next to you, Matty didn’t say anything. Just pushed a mug of coffee towards you and sipping his own.

“You don’t hate me do you? You haven’t said anything all morning.”

Matty took a sip of his coffee, a look of contemplation on his face as his eyes flitted towards you. The silence deafening and the thought of him being upset with you made your heart ache.

“You never offered me that on my birthday.”

You blinked rapidly as you stared at him. That was it. That’s what he chose to say.

Matty tried to say it with a joking lilt to his words. A smirk hiding behind his mug of coffee as you took in his words. But he knew deep down that there was a seriousness to it. It was true, you’ve never done anything with him other than when you kissed at his 18th, on his birthday or otherwise. Apart from one drunken weekend about two weeks later. He wasn’t sure why the thought made his heart pang. But it did. You opened your mouth to respond, quickly shutting it again as a flush rushed to your cheeks as you remembered the night in his garden five birthdays ago.

You let out a shaky laugh, not knowing what to say, shoving his shoulder playfully as you settled back into your chair, steaming coffee ready to be drunk.

“I don’t, you know.” 

You turned you head to curly haired man beside you confused at what he was saying. 

“I could never hate you.”

2014

You weren’t exactly sure where you were. What state you were in. What time it was or how much you and the band had to drink or what drugs Matty had taken tonight but you were fucking exhausted. You had been following your brother and your best friends around the world for the best part of just over a year, ‘acting’ like their personal assistant. 

You were essentially a glorified baby sitter for these four man children. You wouldn’t change it for the world though, you got to travel the world with your best friends and take cool photography in the cool cities you visited but it was all catching up to you. All whilst they were busy being rockstars, some more than others but that was a different story.

You wanted nothing more than to be in the dingy little flat you shared with Matty and George in Manchester, catching up on washing, going down to your local Sainsbury’s and doing the weekly shop. Anything that didn’t require going to bed post 3am.

But you were currently in a club in Atlanta or was it Nashville? You didn’t know but what you did know was that you were bloody tired and the thought of travelling on the tour bus to the next state with a hangover was genuinely about to send you into a downward spiral if you didn’t get yourself back to the hotel asap.

Tucked neatly underneath Hann’s arm, his arm loosely hanging over your shoulder as you rested your head upon his shoulder, you prayed for your brother to round up the other two quicker than he was because you were actually asleep standing up at this point. You didn’t think it was possible to be asleep with your eyes open but you were positive at this precise moment in time it was currently happening.

Ross finally reappeared with George in tow but there was no Matty trailing behind the two of them. You groaned loudly as you clapped eyes on the two of them. Ross looked defeated, tiredness set his eyes too. George smirked when he heard your groans.

“Not the usual type of groans you make when you see me baby.”

“I’ll punch you so hard before Ross even gets the chance to if you don’t shut the fuck up Daniel's. Where’s Healy?”  You huffed, scowling at the boy in front of you.

“Mumbled something incoherent before refusing to leave.” Your brother grumbled.

“Give me two minutes.” You sent Hann a soft smile, before removing yourself from the bubble the two of you’d created at the end of the bar before pushing your way through all the sweaty bodies until you found him trying to chat up some blonde model type near the DJ booth.

Gently placing your hand around his bicep to get his attention, his curls whipped in your direction to see who was touching him. The first thing you noticed apart from the bright grin he was now sporting were his dilated pupils. So he had taken coke again, brilliant. 

The sigh that left you so deeply rooted, you’re surprised he didn’t pick up on it. You hated the way it made him feel after the high was over.

“Hi darling! Hasn’t tonight been amazing? Wait where are the others? Can you believe your brother tried to make me to go back to the hotel? How sick was the gig tonight? Do you want to dance? Hey let me introduce you to…” He spoke at a hundred miles a hour as he spewed out utter nonsense, turning to realise the blonde he was chatting up was long gone.

You watched Matty’s shoulders sag, sad eyes now back on your own. “You fancy coming back with me? I’m dead on my feet and don’t really fancy nursing this inevitable hangover whilst being stuck on the tour bus for over six hours with you lot without at least four hours of decent sleep.”

“But I don’t want to go home yet.” He pouted.

“You come with me now, I’ll let you stay in my bunk tomorrow and I won’t complain about how clingy you are. Promise!”

“Like a sleepover?!”  Matty’s face lit up again.

“If you like, yeah!” You laughed at his childlike enthusiasm.

“Come on then, let’s go right now!” He started to drag you through the crowds. “I’m sharing with Ross tonight. I think he’d rather kill himself than watch you throw yourself at me!” 

“I don’t throw myself at you.” You laughed at the frown he was pulling at you.

“It’s been known to happen Healy! I don’t mind though. My bunk tomorrow. Pinky promise.”

“Tomorrow.”  Matty sent you a soft smile; his pinky looping around your own before you started to tug him back towards the boys. “I just want to clarify, I don’t throw myself at you I just like lying on your tits is all!” He said, pulling a laugh out of you as you approached the rest of the band. Your brother already leading the troops out the club as he saw your approach, eager to get out of there and into bed.

You had currently been on the road from Atlanta to Raleigh, North Carolina for the past two hours and the hangover was showing no signs of disappearing. You had already watched half a season of The Office with Hann and had taken a half arsed nap with Ross but it was hard trying to sleep in the lounge, when your head was knocking off his shoulder every time the bus hit a pot hole.

Not to mention; if Matty made one more fucking sound, you were absolutely positive one of you was going to throw him out the window. It was a toss up between you and Hann, whoever got to him first I suppose. But he was getting on your last nerve. He was annoying at the best of times but there was something about his come down today that was irritating you to no fucking end. He so much as breathed too loudly and it was sending you spiralling into deep pit of annoyance.

You and the band were up back in the lounge area, some Adam Sandler movie playing quietly in the back ground that you were pretty sure none of them were even paying attention to. When Matty threw his phone across the bus, swearing something incoherent under his breath and it was the last straw.

Standing up abruptly, you managed to startle both Ross and Hann at the speed in which you moved. Pulling down George’s hoodie that you had stolen, so it covered more of your ass over the pair of gym shorts you had on. You turned back towards your brother and Adam, irritation etched across your features, scowling at Matty as you eyed him out of your peripheral, as he moped about next to George. 

Just the image of him, made you want to roll your eyes.

“I’m going to my bunk before I fucking throttle him!”  

You sent them both a sarcastic smile before storming off to your bunk. You can’t have been there ten minutes before your peace was interrupted by Matty who was peering around the curtain and asking if he can join you. You let out a big sigh before silently nodding your head as he lumbered on into the small space.

Immediately wrapping his arms around your waist; his head found home upon your chest just like it always did when he wanted a cuddle. Your hand that was wrapped around him made its way up to his head, where it settled in his curls, finger tips running across his scalp. The sound of his soft sighs automatically calming down the irritation that had been bubbling inside you since he had awoken this morning.

You weren’t entirely sure how long you had been lying there in silence. You only broke the silence when the coldness of Matty’s fingertips slipped underneath your hoodie to touch the warmth of your skin. His thumb rubbing circles across the softness of your hips as he snuggled further into your tits as one of his legs started pushing its way in between your own as he got comfy.

“Matty?” Your voice gentle as you tried to get his attention.

“You said you wouldn’t complain.” His voice muffled as he spoke into your covered breasts.

“Your fingers are fucking freezing that’s all.” Your chest vibrated with laughter.

“Sorry sweetheart” Matty moved the slightest bit, to kiss the underside of your chin before snuggling back into the warmth of your hoodie.

“I don’t mean to, you know?”  He whispered softly.

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t mean to make you angry.” 

His voice was barely above a whisper, that you nearly missed it.

“I’m not angry. Why would you think I’m angry at you?”

“You looked like you’d rather die than be anywhere near me before.” The hand that was weaving through his curls stopped. “I hated it. Hated that you looked at me like that. Made me feel even more shit than I already do.”

“Healy look at me.” Matty didn’t move a muscle, head still tucked underneath your chin, no effort in moving at all at your words.

“Babe. Look at me.” Your voice more stern, wiggling away from his grip so you could look down at him properly. “I could never hate you. Ever.” Your eyes flitted across his features, hardened by the late nights on tour and the hardcore partying. “I hate what that stuff does to you. I would never stop you from having fun but when you do that stuff, I hate how it makes you hate yourself the next day. I don’t want you doing something you’re going to regret because believe it or not Healy. I’m quite fond of you and I don’t think my heart could take it if something happened to you. Neither would my brother’s or Hann’s or George’s. We love you a stupid amount you know.”

Matty blinked at you as he took in your words, his brown eyes glossing over before shoving his face into you neck, the grip around your waist becoming impossibly tighter. Your body shaking as his vibrated against yours, soft sobs leaving him as he chanted; “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” Over and over again.

All you could do was hold him closer and reassure him, that he had nothing to be sorry for and you were just looking out for him because anything else, you were afraid it might break you and you’d cry too. As your best friend was breaking his heart and wetting the hoodie you were wearing.

“Don’t apologise for having fun. I just want you to be careful. All I ever want is for you to be okay and sometimes what you do with all those people you don’t know isn’t good for you sweetheart.”

You squeezed him tighter, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. As he mumbled how “I’ll be better, I promise” into your neck, pressing multiple kisses in quick succession to just under the right side of your jaw before settling back into silence where the two of stay for some time.

The soft regular movement of Matty’s thumb rubbing circles on your hip stopped, his hand significantly less colder than they were before he had them up your hoodie, moved across the expanse of your lower back and rolling you over so you were now draped over him instead and tucked into his side. 

“You know sometimes I feel the only time I might get better is when we are together. You ever feel like that?”

It was now your turn to nod silently, a soft hum leaving your mouth as you pressed a quick kiss into his skin as you settled into a slumber.

2017

You had been pottering about your flat most of the morning, doing a deep clean of the place before you were supposed to be heading to meet the boys for Sunday dinner. Your boyfriend of nearly a year Michael, once again opting out of spending time with you and your family, claiming he had better things to be doing that sitting about and listening to the boys talk about what they had been getting up to in the studio again.

Personally you think it was because George let slip last time Michael could actually be bothered to join you all for a drink, that he had slept with you in a drunken ramble, much to the dismay of your boyfriend, your brother and yourself. And Michael didn’t take too fondly to the fact you were still close with George after the confession.

You were in the middle of folding the last bit of the washing that you had dumped on your bed when your phone pinged with a text from Hann.

‘Did you get a letter in the post this week? x’

‘I get a lot of stuff in the post Ads! Off who? x’

‘Matty x’

The moment you saw his name, your heart got stuck in your throat. None of you had heard from him since he he had left, something to do with his recovery. So the thought of contact from him had you dropping your phone on the bed and rushing from your room, shouting at Michael about the post you had received this week. Only receiving a mumble from him about the fire place; had you dashing to the living room, where you rifled through the post sat on top of the mantelpiece. 

There slotted in between this months Rolling Stone subscription and a local take away menu was a white envelope addressed to you. 

A Barbados post mark sitting in the top right corner.

Dropping the rest of the mail on the coffee table, you rushed back to your bedroom, locking the door immediately before sitting at the edge of your bed and taking in Matty’s scrawl of a penmanship. Running your fingers over the ink; your mind flashed back to that day. 

The day you realised he wasn’t okay. 

How completely out of it he was as you watched him at their last festival gig of the iliwys tour cycle. How utterly miserable he looked as he threw himself about the stage, looking just the shadow of the man you knew and loved.

You knew something wasn’t right as you watched from the side of stage with their manager Jamie. George ever the professional, had even broke his concentration bubble to catch your eye several times during their festival set, worry set in his features. 

The way your gentle giant walked straight up to you, stopped in front of you and just by the look in your eyes. Your face never one to hide your emotions. George wrapped his arm around you and without a single word, the pair of you knew you had to speak to the other boys about it. You needed to talk to him.

The night of the intervention. The way he screamed and shouted at you all. He admitted to using but he didn’t do it quietly. The way Ross stepped in front of you in defence when he swore at you. Hann’s hand wrapped tightly around your own, George’s hand squeezing your shoulder in support as your brown eyes glossed over as you took in the man in front of you. He wasn’t your Matty and you hated looking at him like this. 

You didn’t want to look at him at all and it broke your heart.

Slipping your finger into the envelope you finally tore it open, slipping out several pages of paper. You weren’t sure how long you were holding them before you actually unfolded them but it felt like a lifetime of contemplating before you managed to finally take a deep breath and compose yourself enough to read his words.

‘Darling,

As part of my recovery, I’ve been tasked to write a letter to everyone I’ve hurt and yours is the last one I’ve got to write. Not because you mean the least to me. Quite the opposite. Yours has been the hardest to write. Harder than Gabby. My Mam, Dad & Louis & the boys because you mean the absolute world to me. 

This is actually the third time I’ve attempted to write this. Admitting that I’ve hurt you is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. You know what I’m like, I’m a stubborn twat at the best of times but I needed to do this because you deserve this apology probably the most.

You’ve never once judged me and the fucked up things I do when I’m on one. Since we were kids you’ve stuck by my side, defended me when I really didn’t deserve it and loved me endlessly from the sidelines and I’ve definitely not deserved your love but you gave me it anyway.

Do you remember that time we were on tour in 2014 and I was fucked up on coke for god knows how many days in a row and you couldn’t even be in the same room as me that day on the bus when I was on that god awful come down on the way to North Carolina?

Yet you still didn’t say no when I selfishly came crawling to your bunk to interrupt your peace and quiet with my tail between my legs, asking to come lie with you. You could have told me to piss off but you didn’t, you let me squish myself into your bunk and your arms and let me sleep off my hangover in your arms without complaining once. I would have complained but you didn’t, you let me and my cold hands snake their way into your personal space like I hadn’t gotten on your last nerve just ten minutes prior. 

I’m quite a selfish person. You my darling are the most selfless person I know and I don’t deserve the good grace you’ve given me time and time again. Especially seeing as I dragged you along for the ride and then you’ve had to babysit me because I can’t control myself when it comes to drugs and showing off because I want everyone to like me.

You could have taken the tough love route, told me I’m a big fuck up and judged me for my drug use and tried to get me to stop (which probably would have have had the opposite effect out of defiance) but you didn’t. You silently kept an eye on me and made sure I didn’t end up killing myself. Until I took it too far.

I’ve seen you look at me with distaste over the years. Yet nothing compares to the way you looked at me that day you guys staged your intervention. I didn’t think you guys had noticed. I thought me and Miss H had this great big secret going on and I didn’t want to let any of you guys in on it because it would ruin what we had.

Yet you know me better than anyone. You and George both just knew that day. Of course you did. You’re my best friends. But you don’t know how happy I am the four of you staged that intervention and told me I needed to get my shit together.

When I think about the way I lashed out at you. The way your big brown eyes that usually sparkle with mischief when we’re with each other, glossed over as you just stood and took it and didn’t even raise your voice at me once. I can feel the lump in my throat tighten as I write this.

I deserved it you know. I deserved whatever fury was bubbling inside you because I was a class A cunt that day! I’m truly surprised Ross didn’t knock my head off and I wouldn’t have blamed him either if he had done!

I’m just so glad you did something because the thought of losing every single one of you shatters my soul so much, I would cease to exist without you.

I could sit here and write down the list of all things I’m sorry for but physically we don’t have the time or enough paper! But you should know that I am.

I’m sorry. 

For everything.

I’m doing okay. The best I’ve been in a long time. The only way being here might get better is if you were here too.

I don’t deserve your forgiveness. But I’m begging for it because the thought of you hating me and not being able to trust me anymore kills me.

You really an angel on this earth.

I don’t deserve you.

I love you.

Yours Matthew x

p.s I cannot wait to be reunited with your tits! I’ve missed them!

You let out a chortled laugh as you read through the last line of the letter. Your hands quickly making their way to your face as you wiped the tears that were streaming from your face. The cuffs of your hoodie wet from where you’ve tried to stop the flow of tears. Pressing the letter to your chest, you took a few deep breaths to try compose yourself before you left the confinements of your bedroom.

Hurriedly shoving the letter into your handbag, so there was no chance Michael could stumble across your letter. He didn’t like Matty as it was, you didn’t want to give him ammunition to say anything. You grabbed your car keys and rushed out of the house without a word to your boyfriend and heading straight to Hann’s.

2020

You had broken up with Michael.

The red flags should have been there from the start really. He always had less than nice words to say about you and your relationships with the boys. He didn’t have a lot of nice things to say in general but you were blinded by love and the man he was when you first met that you didn’t see the red flags being waved right in front of your face until your heart (and self confidence) were already broken.

Your brother didn’t like Michael, he thought there was something off about him from the off but you put it down to Ross doing his job as your big brother but his opinion didn’t waver once in the four years you were together. George never liked how possessive he was and the fact he became even more so and tried to stop you from speaking to him after he found out about your night together. Which just fyi happened three years prior to meeting him, so he (everyone) was flabbergasted as to why he was so bothered! Hann. Your sweet angel of a bestie had even voiced how he didn’t like him and he was never one to be rude which should have also been a clue you were dating a dickhead.

Then there was Matty. Matty hated him. The feelings were mutual. Michael had told you plenty of times over your four years together that he hated your best friend but he would never tell you why. Matty told you it was because ‘he was a twat who didn’t deserve you’. You were obliged to agree because that mother fucker cheated on you!

Multiple women across the last two years of your relationship. 

To say you were stunned was an understatement yet it somehow made sense and fell into place so easily when you thought about it all. Yet that didn’t make it hurt any less. But a friend of yours sending you the evidence whilst you were on the last night of the UK tour was the final nail in the coffin that was your shitty relationship with him.

You weren’t sure who wanted to kill him more. Your brother? Matty? Or George? The three of them were raging amongst one another at their after party which should have been a celebration whilst Hann sat with his arms wrapped around you as you cried to him and Carly. You didn’t think anything would make you feel better apart from getting obliterated with your favourite people and forgetting about Michael and the impending doom that was about to be bestowed upon the entire world.

Matty was your saving grace.

Asked you to move in, without even hesitating. Naturally you said yes, sitting in your flat all by yourself whilst you cried over your douchebag of an ex during lockdown did not sound appealing to you. It was giving ‘Emma Pilssbury crying to Celine Dion in her car from Glee’ and you weren’t quite ready to hit that stage of your breakup depression just yet.

Two weeks turned into two months and then four months of lockdown but quite frankly you had never been happier. Living with Matty again, surprisingly was just as good the second time round if not easier. Except this time you weren’t poor, your kitchen roof wasn’t leaking and there was a 95% less drug taking which made your life a whole lot less stressful.

It was just easy with him. At some point whilst the world stood still, Matty and Tahliah broke up and then it really just was you two; doing your washing, fighting over who’s turn it was to use their club card during the weekly shop at Tesco and raising his (both of your’s) new dog, Mayhem.

The two of you had been getting ready to move into a studio tomorrow with George after four months of just the two of you playing house, the pair of them just itching to get back to work. You were aware that Matty had been writing already but you knew it would be full steam now Notes had been released and you wanted to make use of the time you had left just the two of you.

Only because you knew as soon as you got your hands on George. That was it! Not a chance Matty was getting any attention. You had missed your big friendly giant more than anything and you knew from your FaceTime with him last night whilst you couldn’t sleep that he was more than excited to see you too.

All three of you were sunbathing in the garden. Mayhem by your side as the two of you soaked up some much needed sun. The heatwave the UK was currently in the middle of was doing wonders for your skin. You had been lying in silence for the past thirty minutes, a book covering your face to block out the sun as you tried to read. Matty’s head in your lap as you presumed he was napping when you suddenly felt him turn over in your lap, now on his side and looking up at you.

Lifting the book ever so slightly, so you could peek underneath at him, you cocked an eyebrow as he watched you with a gentle gaze. “Yes?” Your tone rich with sarcasm as you stared back at him. “Anything actually going through that pretty head of yours Healy? What you thinking about?”

“Us.”

“Us?” You laughed. “What about us?”

“You remember my eighteenth birthday?”  He asked; peering up at you with a soft smile.

“The party?” Matty nodded. “I remember Ross stopping me from getting with Max! Remember him? I was gutted!”  You laughed. “Why?”

“You know that’s not what I meant?” Matty frowned slightly as he pouted at you.

“Of course I do.” You put your book down, your hands automatically reaching for what was left of his curls,“What about it?”

“You ever think about it?”

“Sometimes. Think we’ve done a fantastic job at keeping it from my brother! Especially with your big gob!”  You smiled down at him as you ran your hand through his curls gently.

“Funny!”  He sent a glare your way, causing you to laugh loudly at his attempt to be intimidating. 

“What’s got you thinking about that kiss from a million years ago anyway?”

“Wanking material.” He somehow managed to say without cracking smile.

It was your turn to shoot him a glare at his crudeness. It wasn’t long though until he was grinning up at you from his place in your lap. You pushed his head away from you in fake annoyance. God you couldn’t stand him sometimes!

“Ohh come on darling. I hear you sometimes! We all do it, you’ve got to think of something!” Matty tried to lighten the mood.

“Yeah I think about G’s 23rd birthday.” You smirked. Your vibrator was good but it wasn’t George. You couldn’t remember the last time you had a good orgasm and thinking it might have been before Michael makes you want to cry. Your confession/kind of a joke caused the grin to fall from his face and you almost felt bad, knowing he doesn’t want to hear about the incredible night you had with George because if anyone asked him, he absolutely did not want to relive it.

“I’m joking!” Your hand reached for his curls again. “Seriously though, what’s got you reminiscing about it. It’s been a long time.”

“Just thinking about how much I love you is all.” His confession made you stop. “What would have happened if we’d said fuck it and we ended up together.”

“I don’t think Ross would have been too happy. You saw how mad he got about G!”  You laughed nervously as you thought about stopping your brother from knocking his band mate out.

“He’d have gotten over it.” Matty was now leaning up on his arms, leaning forward to press a light kiss to your bikini clad torso before pressing several kisses in quick succession up your stomach until he was hovering over your chest and looking down at your face. “If we were happy, he’d have been happy. You know he would have been.”

His actions made you hold your breath. It being strangely intimate and probably the most intimate you’d been since you were teenagers. You wondered if he was actually going to kiss you again but he just looked down at you fondly.

“You know I’d do anything for you right?”  You nodded. “You’re one of the only people who makes me truly happy.  I’d literally go too far just you have you near. I’d go blind just to see you!”

You rolled your eyes at the dramatics of his statement but the sweet sentiment made you smile, you reached up to hold the side of his face in your hands. Your thumb sweeping over the apple of his left cheek. The pair of you just basking in the warmth of the sun and each other. Unsure how long you hadn’t said anything, Matty broke the silence in the most Matty way.

“Literally anything you need. I’ve got you for life sweetheart. A cuppa? A joint? An orgasm? I’m your man!” 

A chortle left your mouth as he cheekily beamed down at you, waiting for what he knew would be a somewhat sarcastic response. He didn’t realise he’d really set himself up for what you were about to say.

“Don’t worry I’m good. I’m seeing G tomorrow!”

The way his eyes narrowed at you made you cackle even louder as he finally jumped up off you, to walk back inside without another word. “I’m sorry!”  You laughed. “I promise not to shag George when I see him. I’m good with my vibrator I promise!”  You manage to sputter out through your laughter. “Stick the kettle on whilst you’re in there love.”  You shouted after him.

Matty threw you the middle finger over his shoulder which made you laugh even more as he went though the back door, Mayhem hot on his heels; knowing fine well he was going to put the kettle on and make you a brew just how you liked it because for as long as he can remember he’s never been able to say no to you and he didn’t think he’d ever will.

2023

The 1975 in Show and Concert was possibly your favourite tour that you’d been apart of with the boys. There was an accumulative of factors; the fact you weren’t the only girl on tour this time round, Carly had joined Adam with their son and Charli had come to as many shows as her own schedule permitted. You also had a little part to play at Matthew’s request (obviously!) donned in a white lab coat, you brought Matty a hot honey and lemon on stage every night and pottered about with the rest of the crew, making sure your brother and the rest of the band were all good before slipping off to watch the rest of the show from backstage.

Or it could have been that you and Matty were closer than ever. Ever since lockdown and the pair of you had been living together, everything seemed so simple that since restrictions were lifted, you just carried on living together. I think when George removed the last box of things from your old flat to take to Matty’s did it for him, that he just shook his head with a laugh. 

“You guys really are an old married couple!” He chuckled; slamming the boot close and jumping in the car before you could get a word in edgeways.

He wasn’t wrong, you guys did essentially everything together apart from have sex. Not that you hadn’t thought about it. Somewhere between moving into the studio with him and George and then your brother and Hann joining them to start recording their fifth studio album. You hadn’t shagged anyone in over a year and there was only so many times you could use your vibrator before you got bored and there wasn’t a cat’s chance in hell you were ordering a new toy to the studio because Matty didn’t have boundaries and absolutely would have opened it before you could even get the chance to get your hands on it.

You had also promised after day one; after one too many jokes and essentially mounting George at any given moment just to have him near you that you wouldn’t sleep with him. Even though a repeat of his birthday from seven years prior was literally so so temping to you! So what the hell were you going to do? The thought of dating apps made you want to vomit and hanging about bars really didn’t seem that appealing.

But Matty being Matty; was being overly affectionate one night after one too many glasses of red after a show, had the two of you giggling like teenagers and wondering if the two of you had gotten better at kissing since Matty’s 18th. Curiosity getting the better of the both of you, had you surging towards one another in a flurry of horniness after the kiss, was how you found yourself straddling his lap and snogging him like your life depended on it! Until you physically had to pull away to get your breath back and a rush of sense flashed through your brain. The two of you went to bed separately.

Neither of you spoke about it again.

Nor did you ever think about how the two of you were always drawn to each other no matter what shit storm was going on around you until now. You were just tying up the end of the UK leg of the tour, you and the band were in Ireland and Jamie had just told you that *The Scum* were running a horrendous article about Matty. This had in turn resulted in an argument after their penultimate show between the boys. 

You knew he did things in the heat of the moment whilst he’s on stage or says shit without thinking and it comes to bite him in the arse almost every time but he’d never do what they’re accusing him of on purpose.

But seeing your brother hurt by Matty’s stupid actions; the repercussions for not just himself but for the rest of the band, your brother, yourself just by association. It was enough for you to step in, in defence of your brother. He came before everyone else, every single time.

This you didn’t realise; had as big of an effect until you were stood frozen on stage in front of your brother, Matty in between you and Ross. Apologising to him, crying in front of thousands of people. How Ross hadn’t broke the facade and took him in his arms was beyond you because your brother’s face was currently blurry to you and he was stood a foot in front of you. Tears filled your brown eyes and were threatening to spill as Matty let his vulnerable side show in front of everyone. Something he never does.

You had done so well until he apologised once more; removing his hand from Ross’s arm and reaching behind him blindly to grab on to you. The tears automatically fell; the action enough to make Ross twitch in an ache to comfort you. Something he couldn’t do until the band had come off stage at the end of consumption.

After the final song of tour; the boys usually head on out for the after party. Tonight you had Matty back at the hotel in your room on his knees and begging for you. 

Begging for you to not leave him. Begging for you not to move out. Begging for you to stay by his side. Begging for you to still love him.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked down at the man in front of you; on his knees as his hands grasped at your legs, pulling you close as he hugged you as physically close as possible as he sobbed against your legs. Instinctively you reached for his curls, running your fingers through them softly.

“Baby. Look at me.” The softness of his curls tickled your thighs as he stayed pressed against you. “Matthew. Darling look at me.” 

You managed to loosen his grip enough to slide down on to your knees in front of him, taking a hold of his face in your hands as you eyes flitted across his face, smiling softly at him as he tried to calm himself down.

“I can’t lose you. I can’t lose any of you.” He shook his head, curls flying in front of his face. “But I can’t lose you darling. I can’t.”

“Matthew. Look at me. Why do you think you’re going to lose me? You’re never going to lose me. You’re kinda stuck with me!” You laughed. “And even if I decided to fuck off, my brother being your bassist kind of means I’m stuck with you anyway.” The grip on his face got tighter as his hands reached up to hold on to your wrists.

“But last night…”

“Ross and I just want you to use your brain sometimes before you do stupid shit! You’ve not lost either of us. I promise.”

“Promise?”

Your heart jumped into your throat at the swell of tears in his eyes and his lip quiver.

“Life. That’s how long you’ve got me for Healy. Promise.” As soon as you stopped speaking; Matty threw himself at you, arms around your neck and squeezing you so tightly you nearly stopped breathing. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you” Being repeated in your ear over and over as you squeezed him back, pressing your lips to the side of his face in consecutive kisses until he abruptly pulled away. Eyes red and looking at you so softly you thought he was going to cry again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. You know I do.” You smiled at him warmly.

“No. It’s always been you.” He said as he reached for your hands and it felt like you had been hit in the chest. The sting of tears trickling up your face and threatening to fill your eyes as you silently took him in. You went to open your mouth but nothing came out.

“I know I always talk too much but just listen to me. I love you. Since we were kids I reckon, I was just too chicken to ever do anything.  When you kissed me on my 18th birthday. When you saw I needed help,  you saved my life sending me to rehab. Every day, I thought about getting home to you.  It’s what got me through every day. You make me a better man darling. When you take my shit when I don’t deserve it. When you make me a brew in the morning just how I like it. When you roll me a joint when you realise I’m too tense and in my head without me even having to ask. When you tell me to shut the fuck up before a situation escalates. When we go to big Tesco and walk the dog or do all the washing together. I fucking live for that shit because it’s with you. Fuck I’ve been writing songs about you for the past decade! You are intertwined with every era of this band sweetheart. I mean 60% of the last album is about you! ” He chuckled softly.

“What?” Managed to escape you in a gasp.

“Come on sweetheart. Some of this music has literally been out for ten years!”

“I - Just never - Why have you never said anything before now?” Your voice horse with frustration.

“I love your brother too much. But thinking I’d lost the two of you, just made me think fuck it. You deserve to know. You need to know.” Matty shrugged casually.

“That’s stupid.” Your deadpan tone, stunning him silent.

“Sorry?”

“Wasn’t it you that said to me that if Ross knew I was happy. That we were happy he wouldn’t care. He’d have gotten over it? And you’ve just subliminally been telling me you love me through music this entire time?”

“Yes?” 

You cocked an eyebrow at his hesitation, the questioning tone as your eyes flit across his handsome features. Cheeks tinged with pink due to his tears, his chest falling up and down rapidly at his confession as he awaited you answer. You still didn’t say anything, thinking about how to respond until you found the perfect response.

Surging forward you pushed your lips against Matty’s. Hands reaching for the curls you loved so much. Waiting for him to reciprocate felt like a life time but your Matthew was well equipped in the art of kissing you back so realistically it was 0.2 seconds after he had gotten over the shock.

You kissed him over and over again, not wanting to stop the feeling of how your lips moved against his, how his tongue felt against yours. You felt like you were on fire, he was intoxicating. He always was but fuck was he more than ever. Finally finding the strength to untangle yourself from him, chests heaving as you both got oxygen back in your lungs you said the words, the way he’d been wishing to hear for the past sixteen years.

“I love you too.”

When he was finally seen in public two days later on the eve of their Gorilla gig in Manchester. The fans noticed Matty was in higher spirits than he had been two days prior when his breakdown was caught on camera. You had been nervous to tell your brother but Ross claimed he already knew Matty was in love with you, he was just waiting to see if he’d actually grow some balls or not! Then he hugged you so tightly and whispered he was happy for the both of you, which in turn had you and Matty crying backstage in their green room as you found yourself in a 1975 sandwich! 

You don’t think you had seen Matty look so happy on stage in a long time. He loved touring but it was gruelling but seeing him on stage in this tiny venue with his best friends and his girl watching and waiting for him side stage. He couldn’t stop beaming. The fans noticed, the comments already flying in online about him. They increased tenfold when he jumped offstage, not waiting the ten second walk backstage before kissing you like his life depended on it.

The blurry picture of Matty holding your jaw in his hands as he kissed you in the shadows of the stage was on a 1975 update account within minutes.

Captioned: If you know you know. Finally 🖤

Waiting for Matty to come backstage has never been this torturous. You pulled out your phone at least 30 times in the last 5 minutes, to admire the glint of the silver stud against your tongue.

You’re very sure that Matty’s gonna love your little surprise, but it’s going to be hard to hide it, before you’re on your knees.

The backstage buzzes with excitement as the muffled sounds of fans echoe through the walls. You shift nervously, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt as you wait for Matty to finish his set. The anticipation is almost unbearable, your heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and excitement.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door swings open, and Matty saunters in, sweat glistening on his skin and a smile lighting up his face. His eyes meet yours as he takes in your appearance. Sitting on the couch, clinging to your phone.

“There you are, love.” He says, walking towards you, his white shirt open, showing his tattoos and his black trousers which are tight around his thighs.

Honestly, you don’t have a plan. You just down want him to notice your piercing when you’re kissing, you just have to prevent a french kiss.

“How was the show?” You ask, as he settles next to, intertwining your hands, giving each knuckle of yours a kiss before he moves to kiss your cheek.

“Outrageous, the crowd was mental,” his face is glowing, glistening even and the smile on his face doesn’t seem to fade. Making music is everything for Matty and it just turns you on so much.

“It’s cause of you,” you say, starting to kiss his neck, “fans love you Matty.” Matty hums as you throw his shirt from his body.

“Flattering me much, love?” You feel his hand at your neck, trying to attach his lips to yours and you let him. The second you feel his tongue against your lips you pull away.

“You deserve it,” you whisper, dropping to your knees, running a hand over his crotch, squeezing his bulge. “Let me suck your dick?” Matty groans above you, nodding his head.

“Fucking go for it yeah,” Unwilling to waste another second you tug down his boxers, he lifts his hips just enough for you to drag them below his ass and free his swollen cock.

Matty exhales in relief as the cool air tickles his searing skin. You take a moment to truly admire him, your mouth watering as your gaze fixated on the girth of him, his weeping tip flushed dark pink with a prominent vein running along the underside of his shaft. Wrapping your fist securely around the stiff and hot base, you place a single peck to the head.

You drag your tongue up his cock, tracing the cold piercing with. Matty’s head shoots up at the coldness, his thighs trembling. His dick becomes insanely hard.

“Jesus fucking christ, you fucking didn’t,” he says, pulling you from him by grabbing your hair. “Fuck, let me see.”

He groans out, leaning forward then gripping your cheeks as he grabs your tongue and pulls the pink muscle out of your mouth. The shiny ball in the middle glistens in the dim lights. He huffs out a scoff, as his tongue digs into his cheek when you start to jerk his cock, hand squeezing slightly around the base.

“You like it?” You ask innocently and his back hits the couch again, watching you. “Got it for you Matty.”

He actually moans, thrusting his hip up into your hand. “You have no idea how fucking hot you are.”

“Fuuuck,” he groans, drawing out the vowel as a heavy breath. His fingers drag through your hair roughly, gripping the back of your head. You push yourself forward, taking more of him in until he is pressing into your throat, and you swallow tightly around him. “Christ, feels so fuckin’ good.”

As his hips buck upward again, you gag around him, tears springing into your eyes. He moans lowly, cursing under his breath at the feeling of your throat contracting around him. “Don’t deserve you.”

You work your tongue over his weeping slit, enjoying the way his grip on your hair tightens as you pay close attention to the most sensitive part of him.

“Fucking hell,” he groans, his eyes closing at the feeling of your piercing stroking him. “Can’t-“ he mumbles, thrusting up faster.

You know he’s close, the new feeling on his dick completely overwhelming him. One hand of his tugging at his own curls, trying not to cum so fast, and the other on your hair, not letting you get off him.

“I can’t- fuck-,” He tightens his grip on your hair, his hips instinctively thrusting into your mouth as he surrenders to the overwhelming sensation. His release finally washes over him in waves, his body trembling with the force of it as he empties himself into your waiting mouth, and you swallow the hot spurts down your throat eagerly, savoring the taste of him.

"Holy shit," you choke, voice raw, when you pull off of him. You use the back your hand to wipe over your face, stains on the sleeve of your hoodie.

You get up from your knees, settling down on Matty’s lap, “wanna know how it tastes?” You ask and his eyes widen, a grin spreading across his face.

His lips find yours and he wastes no time slipping his tongue through your lips, eagerly wanting to feel your piercing on his tongue and when he does he groans into you. “Turns you on huh?” You tease, sticking out your tongue at him.

“Minx,” he chuckles, slapping your ass, making you yelp. “I love you so fucking much.” You crash your lips on his again, your hands all over his face, trying to hold on to this moment.

“My favorite girl,” he says as your back finds the couch and he settles on top of you but only for a second. “Dinner first and then you’ll get your reward?” He asks and you nod.

“Can’t wait,” you wink and watch him put on his pants again. He laughs, shakes his head and pulls you up. “C’mon love.”

your boyfriend laughs. “i love you.”

you sigh. “if you really did, you'd help me pick out an outfit.”

“baby, it's just an album signing, it's not fashion week. but alright,” matty stands behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, scrutinising the contents of the two weekend bags you've emptied onto his bed. “i like that skirt there,” he points at a long satin black and white swirly thing. “you could wear it with one of my t-shirts, if you wanted?”

his voice sounds so tender you can't help but smile, leaning round to kiss his cheek. “would you want me to wear one of your t-shirts with it, darling?”

“yeah,” matty nuzzles his face into your neck. “maybe that my bloody valentine top you've secretly had your eye on for years.”

“i have not!”

“liar,” he pinches your bare hip, kissing your neck when you yelp before letting go of you to rifle through his wardrobe. “here,” he returns with the t-shirt. “arms up, sweetheart.”

“m’not a baby, you know,” you grumble, as matty puts the top on for you.

“yeah, you are,” he beams when your face reappears from the fabric, taking it in his hands and kissing all over it. “my baby, my baby.”

“betting on losing dogs, are we?”

“hmm? wait, don’t tell me, i know this one, i do,” your boyfriend closes his eyes, reopening them and squinting in anticipation. “... mitski?”

you cheer, kissing him. “yes!”

he grins. “i listened to that album. liked it.”

“it's a good one,” you pull your skirt on and slip into your shoes; matty automatically kneels to help you lace them. “i think - oh, thanks, babe - yeah, i think i might see if i can buy it on vinyl today, actually.”

“dunno if you'll be able to, darling,” matty kisses your thigh through your skirt. “the amount of fans who've asked me if you're coming today? i reckon you'll be bombarded the whole time.”

“really?”

“yeah. people love you!” your boyfriend stands, kissing you deeply. “but not as much as i do. obv.”

“love you,” you kiss him again. “even when you're being delusional about how popular i am amongst your fanbase.”

“i'm right.”

“whatever you say, baby.”

as much as it pains you to admit it, when you begin to near the record shop in the car, it's clear that he really is. while you're in the middle of a conversation (interrogation, really) with ross about the mutual acquaintance of yours he’s started seeing - a travel photographer you know from condé nast meetings - matty elbows you in the ribs. “sorry, darling, i didn't mean to do that so hard. just got excited,” he grins, gesturing with his head to something on the street outside the window. “look at that girl's tote bag.”

grumbling, rubbing your sore chest, you squint to see what he means; when you do, your jaw drops. “fuck off. is that me?”

“yeah! as one of those saint candles!” matty laughs. “wonder where she got it. i want one. i'm gonna ask,” when the car stops, traffic gridlocked, he opens the window and leans out, while you facepalm and ross winces. “yo! love the tote bag! where'd you get it?”

“i made it!” a voice calls back, barely audible amidst the shrieks of the people around it. “i can make you one, too, matty!”

“would you? oh, thank you, darling. you're coming to the signing, yeah?”

“yeah!”

“alright. we'll talk then. see you!”

“tell your girlfriend i love her!”

matty laughs. “she's right here, she heard!”

the shrieks get even louder. your jaw drops, and ross laughs. “maybe you should wave to them, mate.”

“this is fucking insane,” you mutter in disbelief, undoing your seatbelt and shuffling to sit on matty's lap; his hands make their way around your waist on instinct, and you lean out the window somewhat nervously. “um. hi, guys?”

the scream you get in response is almost deafening - the six girls, none of whom look older than nineteen, look totally ecstatic to see you, squealing your name and waving so excitedly you can't quite comprehend it. you grin, and laugh when the one with the tote bag brandishes it towards you with a cry. “my patron saint!”

“oh, bless you,” you wink, and matty kisses your shoulder (out of sight of the audience) as they all laugh. “how are you guys, anyway? excited?”

the chatter restarts, but the smallest girl piques your attention first. “yeah! this is my first 75 album signing. i'm hyped!”

“is it?” matty pokes his head out, at the exact same time you say “mine too”. he kisses your cheek. “aww, that's cute. i mean, i've been going to your book signings for years, but,” he exaggeratedly rolls his eyes, and ross laughs from the other side of the car. “whatever.”

you sigh, turning to the girls. “what my darling boyfriend failed to mention is that i'd send him a signed copy - with a personal message, mind you - of everything i published, as pr, and he'd still show up and buy another one and make me sign it,” you ruffle his hair. “matty healy tree murderer confirmed.”

“but that's so sweet,” one of the girls sighs.

matty points at her. “exactly! and,” he looks at you adoringly. “i just like hearing you talk. that's why i came to all the events.”

this isn't news to you, but it melts your heart nonetheless. still, you can't resist - “simp”.

“says the woman who spent three hours watching tiktok edits of me yesterday.”

the girls cackle, collapsing into each other giggling in the unique way only young women do. “real,” one of them shouts, laughing even harder when you salute to her. “oh my god, i love you!”

matty turns to you, smug. “see?” he turns back to the window. “she didn't believe me earlier, when i told her you guys were hoping she'd come with me today. underestimated how much you love her.”

“yeah, yeah,” you rest your head against his. “he’s right, though - this is surprising to me. but very lovely, you guys are sweet.”

“and you guys are perfect,” tote bag girl grins. “seriously. it's so good to see you both so happy. please don't break up, ever, it would be worse for me than my actual parents’ divorce.”

you gasp out an “oh my god”, while matty giggles. “nah, no need to worry,” he looks at you with such tenderness you could cry. “she's it for me, the love of my life; if she leaves me, i'm going with her.”

“as if i'd ever leave you. love you too much to do that,” you scoff, tugging him into you for a hug. a retching noise from the other side of the car breaks your little reverie, and you giggle. “sorry for making you sit through the sappiness, ross.”

just like he did with the cigarette earlier, matty breathes slowly into your mouth, hands sliding down to rest on your ass. this time, his exhale is shaky with obvious lust, rather than cigarette smoke; still, you feel a rush of something chemical, and tense every muscle in your body in war against the urge to squeal in ecstatic shock about the effect you have on him. his eyes blink open slowly, that beautiful brown almost hidden completely by his dilated pupils. "i've never wanted anything more in my life," he murmurs against your lips. he pulls his head back slightly, and the tenderness in his gaze almost makes you cry. suddenly, though, in a way that's just so matty, the tenderness changes to glee as he cheekily slaps your asscheek. "let's get a move on, then!"

you roll your eyes, but hold out your hand for him to take; after kissing it quickly, matty leads the two of you back into the bar. although the placement of his hand in yours is by no means new - you've lost count of the times you've desperately grasped each other at shows and festivals and on nights out, your joined hands keeping you from getting lost in seas of strangers - you've never noticed just how right it feels, his calloused hand on your ink stained one. the closest analogy you can think of is likening it to a favourite sweater. a perfect fit. warm. relaxing. something you don't ever want to take off.

matty continues to hold your hand when you re-enter the bar, too, only dropping it to help you with your coat; even then, he takes it back in his grasp immediately as soon as you turn to face him, and smiles excitedly at you. "ready to go, sweetheart?"

he's so beautiful in this moment, all sharp jaw and grey strands of hair and big brown eyes illuminated by the dim but warm lighting in the bar. you tell him that, and watch his cheeks tint pink as he shakes his head, smiling in spite of himself. moving closer to you, matty kisses your temple and leans to murmur something in your ear. "you need to stop saying stuff like that, babe, or i won't make it home."

your heart flutters against your sternum - whether from desire or sheer shock at just how much matty wants you, you aren't sure. maybe both. "let's go, then."

a final kiss to your lips, and matty pulls you towards the door in a french exit. as you pass the dancefloor, though, you make eye contact with the birthday girl, now jumping around with her fiancé to a talking heads song. her eyes widen as she clocks you and matty's linked hands and half-out-the-door state; when they snap up to meet yours, you quirk your brows and wink, to which she responds with a cheer of "FUCKING FINALLY!". some of your other friends start to turn around at the noise, but you and matty are outside before they notice you.

the familiar walk to matty's house is short, although the burning desire practically radiating off the pair of you makes it seem far longer. that, and the fact that matty insists on stopping at every red-lit pedestrian crossing, despite the uncharacteristic lack of london traffic; as you wait for the red men to vacate and the green to appear, he kisses you as deeply as he can within the limited timeframe.

after you've made it past the busier area and turned onto his street, you tease him about the frequent liplocking. "you really like smooching me, don't you?"

"yeah, i do," matty replies, in that cocky-yet-charming manner of his. "and you'd better get used to it, babe, because i've got to make up for all the years i wanted to kiss you and didn't, haven't i?"

christ.

your cheeks begin to burn, and you tuck your face into matty's side in an attempt to cool them down. "oh my god."

matty only giggles, throwing his arm gently around your head and kissing your temple. "i'm serious! the worst time was when we were all at mine and you got the call about your first novel getting picked for publication-"

"oh no."

"-and i walked into the kitchen and you were just sittin' on my countertop cry-laughin' in that green dress - my favourite, by the way - and you just looked at me and said 'they're publishing it' with total joy in your eyes," matty continues, ignoring your protests. "i just wanted to plant one on you so badly in that moment. i was so proud of you - still am, every day."

his confession liquifies your insides into a puddle. you stop, now outside his front door, and lean up on tiptoe to kiss him - gently at first, then with unabashed desire, until you're forced to pull away to breathe. "et toi, angel. now, get us inside and you can make up for all those years properly, yeah?"

spurred on by your request, matty presses your back against the door, kissing you sloppily as he tries to find his keys in his pocket. once he does, he breaks from your lips and fumbles with the lock, shaking hands not helped by your pressing kisses into his neck. "god, you're gonna be the death of me" he groans, as he finally gets the door open and walks you inside. "but fuck, i'll die a happy man."

you begin to giggle, the sound quickly cut off by matty's lips returning to yours. he slides your bag and coat off your shoulders, leaving them in a heap on the floor and pressing you against the wall. one hand tenderly cradles the back of your head, stopping it from smashing off the concrete, while the other grips your ass, pushing the front of your body against his, lithe and hard and hot. at the contact, heat pulses through your body and settles between your legs. "matty," you whimper into his open mouth. "need you."

"ok, sweetheart, you'll have me" matty breathes, kissing down your neck as he toes off his shoes. he begins to trail kisses down your body, crouching to unfasten the ankle straps of your heels. as he reaches eye-level with your thighs, he removes his lips from you, hands ghosting over the hem of your dress as you kick your shoes off - however, your involuntary hiss as your bare feet meet freezing concrete causes matty to pause his movement, clearly rethinking any notions he had of having his way with you in the hallway. before you can apologise for the noise, he's back standing, hands under your ass and wrapping your legs around his waist. "bedroom."

you continue to kiss as matty carries you - with surprising speed - through the twisting corridors of his house, only breaking it to giggle at him bashing his foot against the bedroom door as he kicks it open. the pain causes matty to drop you quite unceremoniously on his bed, and he mutters an apology before sliding off his suit jacket and crawling over you to return his lips to yours. this is the most passionate kiss of the night thus far, sloppy, hungry, as if you're both trying to consume the other.

suddenly lightheaded - but unsure if it's from lack of oxygen or want for matty overwhelming your very being - you break the kiss, instead focusing on sitting up and unbuttoning matty's shirt with trembling hands. he sits up on his knees and brings his hands to his chest to guide yours, pressing little kisses over your face. "hey, hey, darlin', it's alright," he coos. "know you want me, but i need you to calm down a bit, ok? relax. we have all the time in the world."

you exhale slowly, shakily, pushing matty's now unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. no matter how many times you see matty shirtless, whether he's sunbathing at a barbecue or dancing wildly onstage, his tattoos and defined muscles always make your knees threaten to give way; here, now, seeing them so close while on his bed, the effect of the sight goes straight to your core. and yet, despite the desire pulsing through your veins and beginning to pool in your panties, you don't feel compelled to immediately begin leaving hickeys or raking your nails all over matty's exposed skin. instead, you lean forward and place a chaste kiss over his chest tattoo, over his sternum, over his heart; that's what you feel compelled to do, probably by the same supernatural force that encouraged you to join matty in the smoking area and end up here.

it's matty's turn to exhale now, hand coming up to lightly stroke your messy hair as you rest your forehead against his heart, arms wrapping around him. you stay like that for a minute, enjoying the calmness of the sweet moment, until matty breaks the silence with a bombshell of a sigh. "fuck, i'm so in love with you."

you detach from him like you've been shocked, tilting your gaze to meet his. a beat passes, then matty begins to ramble, apologies and "its true but i shouldn't have said it"s and "let's just forget i said it"s and more apologies falling from his lips like a modern-day Joyce protagonist. before he talks himself unconscious, you shut him up the simplest way you know how: pressing your lips to his in a gentle kiss. when matty seems to have calmed down a bit, you pull away and bring your hands to his jaw, just as he did to you earlier. "i'm in love with you too."

his eyes widen. "you mean it?"

you nod. because you do mean it - you are in love with him. you have been for a while. you miss him when you aren't with him. you get butterflies in your stomach when you are. on more than one occasion, you've thought about what it would be like to grow old with him, the two of you still writing together at a farmhouse kitchen table while your grandkids play in the garden and multiple dogs lie at your feet. you like yourself better when you're around him. you like others better when you're around him. you want to cry at the mere thought of him with somebody else. you would do anything he wanted you to, and you know he would do anything for you. yeah. you're in love with matty, alright.

"oh, sweetheart," matty smiles, his eyes glassy as he pulls you into him and crashes his lips to yours. while there's an undercurrent of desire, this kiss is softer, sweeter, calmer; it feels like coming home. after it ends, matty rests his forehead against yours. the two of you bask in the tender glow of the moment - that is, until matty says something suggestive, as is his wont. "will you let me go down on you to show you how much i love you?"

in spite of the recent revelations, and the subsequent softness in the air, matty's question sends a burst of heat to your core so strong that you struggle to speak. nodding frantically, you croak out a "yes", and close your eyes as matty begins to kiss your neck and lift the hem of your dress, only reopening them once the black velvet is lifted over your head and matty lets out a quiet curse in exclamation. his pupils are almost fully dilated, eyes raking up and down your lingerie-clad body, mouth agape, hands clenching and unclenching.

to egg him on, you quickly reach around to unclasp your bra, letting the straps fall down your shoulders and discarding it somewhere on matty's floor. it has the desired effect; he blinks slowly once, then all but pounces on you, covering your boobs with grabs and caresses and kisses and sucks and bites. you relish matty's worship for a few glorious minutes, before he pulls himself up to your lips to kiss them again. "you're so beautiful," he mutters against your lips. "can i get you naked now, sweetheart?"

fuck. you whimper an affirmative, and you feel him smile against you before he gently pushes you down into the mattress. "lie down for me, baby, that's it," matty coos as he settles himself on his stomach, head resting on your thigh. eyes locked on yours, he slides a single finger up the middle of your clothed core, pressing it gently on your clit and making you gasp. "fuck, you're so responsive. good girl."

with that devastating phrase, matty hooks his fingers in the waistband of your panties and pulls them down, pushing your legs up to slide the black lace fully off and throw them away. he winks at you, grinning, then wraps his arms around your thighs and buries his face between your legs.

a cry of his name escapes your throat before you can stop it, which only seems to encourage him. you knew matty had a mouth on him, but this far exceeds any wet dream you've ever had; he's everywhere, sucking your clit into his mouth and flicking his tongue against it, then licking into you and lapping up your wetness like it's caramel, making you writhe on his mattress. somewhere in your addled brain, you thank everything holy for soundproofing concrete so well - had this dalliance taken place in your flat, the noises matty is coaxing out of you would warrant complaints from every other tenant in your whole building. he's making noise, too, moaning into your core and praising your sweet taste every time he comes up for air.

as the pressure in your lower stomach begins to grow, your hands find themselves on your boobs, squeezing and pinching your nipples in an imitation of matty's earlier actions. he stops working on you with his mouth, thumb toying with your clit as he admires you. "that's my girl," matty says, sending a direct shockwave to your clit. "my beautiful, beautiful girl. god, i love you so much."

with that, his mouth is back on your core, fingers parting your folds and thrusting inside you. the combination makes your head spin, the pressure within you growing ever-nearer to breaking point. one of your hands latches itself into matty's curls, resulting in another throaty groan, and you begin to grind yourself against his face and hand. "matty," you whimper, back arching off the bed. "please don't stop. m'so close, m'so fucking close."

matty moans into you again, speeding up his movements ever so slightly. he pulls his mouth from you briefly, so he's understood. "cum for me, sweetheart," he pants, thumb substituting for his tongue on your clit as he speaks. "be a good girl and cum on my tongue." with that, back down he goes. as soon as his tongue returns to you, your orgasm hits; you scream, clenching around his fingers, your whole body convulsing in icily-burning ecstasy. matty pulls every last bit of pleasure out of you, lapping at your clit increasingly softly until you whimper at the sensitivity.

matty pulls himself up to hover over your panting chest, although his forearms shake with the effort after how tight he held your thighs. he presses a gentle kiss to your lips, making you moan at the taste of yourself on him, before he speaks. "that was the sexiest thing i have ever experienced. i'm gonna think about that every fucking day of my life. thank you."

still breathing heavily, you giggle, pulling him down to lie atop you. matty nuzzles sweetly into your neck, somewhat contrasting the eroticism of his hard cock against your stomach. you bring a hand to the buckle of his trousers, which makes him sigh in contentment, and begin to undo it. "oh, i love you. thank you. will you let me return the favour now, angel?"

matty moans into your neck, his hands moving to his trousers to help you pull them down. he leans back slightly to kick them off, then sits up on his knees before you. "honestly, baby, as good as that sounds... i'm quite desperate to be inside you, if you feel ready for that."

slightly embarrassingly, you feel yourself get wet at matty's words. sitting up, you capture his lips with your own, your hands tugging at the waistband of his boxers. "please."

matty swears under his breath and yanks his boxers down his legs. holy fuck. his cock is beautiful; long and hard, weeping for attention. you swipe your thumb over the tip as matty reaches across to his bedside table, but he pulls back with a "for fuck's sake" before you start to work him further. "fuck, the condoms are in the bathroom cupboard. i'll be two seconds, babe, let me just-"

"wait," you sit up on your elbows, preening internally at the way matty's gaze falls to your boobs moving as you do so. "i mean... i'm alright not using one, if you're cool with that. i don't mind, either way."

matty's eyes close, and you don't miss the way his cock twitches slightly at your words. "well, i'm clean, if you're sure you don't mind going without-"

"i am too"

"-but what about... other things?"

"well, going by my biological calendar, we should manage to avoid that this time," you begin, moving to caress his face, his eyes fluttering open as you do. "but even if we don't, i've always maintained that you'd be a proper dilf, so..."

"fuck, i really do love you," matty grins, turning his head to kiss the palm of your hand. he settles himself better between your legs, wrapping them around his waist, thumb lightly circling your sensitive clit. "do you want me to fuck you now?"

you slide your arms down onto the bed so you're lying flat again, tipping your head back against the pillows. "mhmm."

matty moves so he's leaning over you, pausing his hand movement and replacing his thumb on your clit with the tip of his cock. "need to hear you say it, sweetheart" he whispers, directly into your ear. "can you do that for me?"

the whole scenario is so erotic that you can't stop the needy whimpers you emit as a response. "please, please matty, want you inside me, please".

"good girl," comes the reply, and then matty's cock is at your entrance, pushing slowly inside you, stretching you out. he's big, the biggest you've ever had, but the stretch and the sensation of him inside you after all this time is nothing short of delicious. matty leans down to kiss you as he bottoms out, the two of you moaning into each other's mouths like it's your own shared language.

after a few slow thrusts, matty breaks the kiss to hover over you. "fuck... shit, you feel so good, baby," he pants out between thrusts. "can i speed up a bit? are you ready?"

his attentiveness towards you is incredible; matty looks like he might combust if he doesn't pick up the pace, jaw open and loose and dark eyes heavy, but he keeps the slow tempo until you answer. "fuck me harder, please. want it so bad."

matty smiles above you, kissing your forehead gently. "anything for my girl."

and with that, most of the gentleness disappears; matty pulls out almost all the way, then slams back into you, making you cry out his name and tangle your fingers in his hair again. he picks up speed, too, moving those hips of his rapidly as he chases orgasms for both of you.

the position doesn't change the whole time - it's perfect, matty's cock hitting your sweet spot every thrust and making you clench around him. you're aware of yourself babbling between moans of his name, but you have no idea what you're saying; all coherent thought in your brain has been replaced by love for the man above you and his sexual prowess, the man alternating between kissing your neck and sucking on your nipples, the man responding to your shit-talking with adoring coos. "fuck, good girl, taking my cock so well, so perfectly. you were fucking made for me, weren't you? made for me to make you feel good, yeah?"

it's overwhelming, especially after the intensity of your last orgasm. the familiar feeling in your stomach begins to build again, your jaw trembling and eyes rolling back into your head as matty continues to fuck you just so perfectly. when your legs begin to shake around his waist, he brings his thumb to your clit and kisses into your neck. "you're close, aren't you, sweetheart? can you cum for me again? cum all over my cock?"

again, it's matty's words that do it. you yank his face down to your own, scratching his back so hard it bleeds and making out with him as he brings you to another convulsing orgasm. it's not a long kiss, though - matty pulls away from you as you clench around him in the throes of pleasure, his hips stuttering as he nears his own release. "where...?"

"inside," you gasp out, clinging to his sweaty shoulders. "wanna feel you."

face above you, dark eyes boring into your own, matty whines loudly - the hottest thing you've ever heard - as he finishes inside you, pulsing heat into your core. he holds himself up long enough afterwards to place a kiss on the end of your nose, then flops on top of you, cock softening inside you, head resting on your boobs. "best sex i've ever had. i love you."

"i love you too," you reply, caressing his sweaty hair. "can't wait to do that with you every day for the rest of our lives."

matty giggles softly, kissing inbetween your boobs before raising his head to look at you. "and i was thinking, if we have a boy in 9 months, we should name him after me."

you turn to the birthday girl, who simply smiles saccharinely at you, before she nudges you to the end of the table and a set of sparkly brown eyes. one of them closes in a wink as you approach, while the man they belong to slowly rises from his seat. your heart flutters involuntarily, and your greeting comes out as a whisper. "hiya."

"hi, darlin'," comes the reply, as he pulls you into a quick hug. you quickly inhale his scent, a strong mix of tobacco and aftershave, undercut with a hint of the weed he enjoys smoking so much; a scent so sorely him that even the slightest hint of it makes your knees tremble and heart race. here, now, breathing it in in its purest form, you think you might pass out if he wasn't holding you. "it's good to see you again. s'been too long."

"yeah," you inhale softly. you break the embrace, and trail your hands gently down to hold his own larger ones, calloused from years of guitar playing. he rubs his thumbs softly over the back of your hands as you take in his lithe, black-suited body and the mop of dark curls atop his (perfect) head. "you look lovely. really well."

matty's cheeks flush slightly, lifting into a smile uncharacteristically bashful for a rockstar of his calibre. "you flatter me too much, sweetheart. and you look beautiful."

you can feel your cheeks redden as you giggle awkwardly. "the birthday girl said the same thing."

"and for once in her life, she's right," matty replies, placing a hand on the small of your back - a gesture that makes your stomach muscles twitch into tension - and guiding you into the seat next to his. he keeps one of his hands on yours, though, even as you both sit down. "not like the time she got really into french new wave shit and tried to convince us all that cycling across paris on a saturday in july was a good idea."

the memory makes you chuckle. "no, the two of us were right that day. find a quiet restaurant, sit outside drinking for five straight hours, and laugh when everyone else shows up grumpy and sore."

"that was my favourite day of the whole holiday," matty says, almost dreamily, resting his elbow on the table and his face on his hand. "you and i weren't close until then, not really. was nice to just sit and open up to each other. i love doing that with you."

"i know exactly what you mean," you reply, glowing at his words. "getting little glimpses into your brain is my favourite thing."

matty's face changes slightly as you finish talking, the expression something you can't quite describe. the air in the room feels heavier now, as if your honest words are lingering and weighing it down; you try to blow them away by continuing to speak. "and that wine we had was fucking wonderful, too!"

the brown eyes fixed on your own restart their twinkling, as matty slides a stemless glass of burgundy liquid to you. it's identical to the one in front of him, albeit fuller. "speaking of..."

you gasp. "no fucking way."

matty winks at you, smirking - a deadly combination to your heart - clearly proud of himself. as he clinks his glass against yours in a silent cheers, though, his bravado disappears, replaced by something almost resembling tenderness. "i remember you saying it was the best drink you'd ever had. every wine list i read, i look for it. here's the first place outside of paris that they've actually had it."

jesus.

you take a sip of the wine first, to taste, then go back in for a longer drink. it's good, better than you remember, so good that your eyes close involuntarily in pleasure as the fruity smoothness makes its way further down your body, leaving a trail of warmth behind. when you reopen them, matty is still looking at you softly, pretty lips curved into a slight smile. it's the most tender moment you've experienced in a long time, and you don't want to ruin it by talking.

instead, you put down your glass and shuffle your chair as close as you can to his, pointedly ignoring the shiver that dances across your skin as your thigh meets his own, and pull him into another hug. this one is longer, slower, closer - your arms rest on his shoulders, his settle around your waist. with your face in such close proximity to his neck, his scent - already ruinous to you - is inescapable; it consumes you, fills your airwaves and clouds your brain until all you can think is matty, matty, matty. before you lose all sense of coherent thought to him, you murmur a "thank you" into his shoulder, and you swear his arms tighten slightly around you. you stay entwined for a bit longer, neither of you willing to be the one to break the hold. it's only when you hear an "oi! lovebirds! can we order now, please?" from further down the table that you both reluctantly pull apart, smiling sweetly at each other.

the dinner passes without incident, aside from the birthday girl breaking a lightbulb as she over-enthusiastically opens a bottle of champagne. you talk to matty, about his music and your writing and your families and new hobbies and the shit tv you've been watching, and also to the rest of your friends. it's a lovely night, so lovely that nobody really wants to go home after the plates have been cleared and the bill has been paid - when someone suggests continuing the evening in a bar down the street, the response is a unanimous "yes".

so you go, you continue your conversations and your drinking, although the bar doesn't have the french wine you and matty drank a bottle of together earlier, much to your disappointment. you even dance, with your girls, to the overly-bass-heavy songs blasting through speakers hidden everywhere in the dimly lit room. it's fun, absolutely, but you find yourself distracted, eyes constantly flicking to matty. he's so beautiful, standing at the bar laughing with the boys and absent-mindedly toying with his hair, that it makes your heart ache. when he pulls a lighter out of his pocket and makes a beeline for the back door, you're compelled by some supernatural force to follow him, shouting excuses about wanting fresh air across the music to your friends.

a quiet curse leaves your lips as you step coatless into the crisp winter night. at the noise, matty looks up from his phone with a furrowed brow, cigarette between his lips. when he sees it's you walking towards him, he takes the cig between his fingers and exhales the smoke far more attractively than should be allowed. "y'alright, darlin'?"

"mm-hmm," you reply, leaning opposite him against the wall. "just needed some air, is all. but i'll gladly bum a cig off you, if you're offering."

matty rolls his eyes. "not this shit again, sweetheart. s'not good for you. i don't want you adopting my bad habits, do i?"

you pout sweetly and bat your lashes. "please? just one?"

matty looks at you for a second, taking a long drag of the cig as if to taunt you, before he sighs. "listen," he starts. "if you're that desperate for a nicotine hit, i'll shotgun you. just this once, yeah? don't need you ruining your pretty lungs with these things."

"deal."

matty sighs again, but takes another long drag and leans down to your level, placing his hands on the wall beside your head. "open up, then."

ignoring the way your stomach jumps at his command, you part your lips as he exhales, taking all the smoke leaving his mouth into your own. neither of you move once it's done, though; you still lean casually against the brick wall, flanked by matty's hands, both of you breathing heavily, lips mere inches apart. matty's gaze flicks to your lips and back to your eyes, and then it happens.

you're kissing.

it starts sweetly, lips on lips and nothing more, but the wine from earlier emboldens you - daringly, you swipe the tip of your tongue oh so gently over matty's bottom lip. his breath hitches, and something within him just shifts. the cigarette is flung to the ground, forgotten, and his hands come up to hold your jaw as his tongue finds its way into your mouth. as you continue to make out, your hands clutch at the lapels of his suit jacket - whether to hold yourself upright or just to keep him close to you, you have no idea. all you know is that you're finally kissing matty, and you don't want it to stop.

eventually, though, the human requirement for oxygen means that it must. it's matty who pulls away from you first, although he looks physically pained to be doing so. his hands remain on your jaw, thumbs gently caressing your cheeks as he breathes heavily, adoration in those sparkling brown eyes of his. "you have no idea how long i've wanted to do that," he pants, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "fucking hell, sweetheart."

panting just as much as matty, you smooth down his lapels and smile sweetly at him. "well, for me, it's been... wait, how many years has it been since we first drank that wine in paris?"

matty's eyes widen slightly. he giggles - the sweetest sound you think you've ever heard - and pulls you in for another kiss; still as passionate, but more tender than the first, with an underlying gravitas that makes your heart feel funny. this time, when he pulls away, he looks... nervous. "look, this might be too forward, and you can absolutely say no and it'll be fine. but i wanna ask you" he begins, his hands trailing down your sides and coming to rest on your hips, eyes boring into your own. "would you like to come home with me tonight? i would love it if you do."

pointedly ignoring the butterflies in your stomach when you see he's opened his message with hi, darling, you continue reading: hope you're alright, and that the new book isn't kicking your arse too much. saw a group of kids in barnes & noble raving about your last one earlier. would've joined them if i wasn't in a hurry, to be honest. fucking brilliant. anyway, i know it's late, but i had to text you before i forgot. can you give me a call when you get this, darling? flying home early tomorrow so i'll be up from about… 8am your time? i've got a favour to ask you. nothing crazy, though, and nothing urgent. but yeah, just phone me when you can. thanks, darling. miss you, talk to you soon. bye! X

just as you're reeling from the three darlings and the kiss and the miss you, another text from your best friend comes in, accompanied by a photo: also look at who you were next to on this display. i got so excited. my three favourites!

you laugh out loud, a combination of shock at the fact your collection is between slouching towards bethlehem and consider the lobster and adoration at matty's beaming face next to it all. fuck, he's cute.

so cute. enough for you to forget that it’s 3 o'clock in the morning, and happily pick up your phone and dial his number - you've spent so much time poring over your message threads that you know it off by heart - as if it was mid-afternoon. you kick your legs back and forth as the call connects, smiling to yourself at the thought of hearing his voice for the first time in over a month.

luckily, you don't have long to wait; your heart flutters as he picks up on the second ring, voice thick in the way it only goes when he's smoking. “you know, you didn't have to call me right away, darling. thought you'd have been asleep. but hiya!”

“hi, matty,” you smile. “and come on, it's deadline week, of course my sleep schedule is fucked. questioning why i'm not asleep, christ, thought you knew me better than that.”

he takes your teasing in good faith. “i do, darling, i do know you,” matty's voice is soft, his tone as tender as you've ever heard it. it's driving you batshit insane. “but you know me. i just want to make sure you're not stressing yourself out about your work too much. rather have my best friend's wellbeing intact than another book, even though your writing is my favourite. speaking of, that display! i'm recreating it at home. genuinely. s'amazing.”

you can feel your cheeks burning. “i can't even comprehend that display right now, m'too tired. but i’ll text you my thoughts once they make sense. and i'm alright, matty, honest. please don't worry about me, lovely.”

“that'll never happen, and you know it.”

“god, you're obstinate. but thanks. i appreciate the care.”

“even when you're insulting me, you're so eloquent. you've got a gift,” matty laughs down the phone. “how's deadline week going, anyway?”

“it's done. just sent the final draft away for edits. s'why i'm still up, actually.”

“really? congrats, darling!” the genuine happiness in his tone makes your heart hurt. “god, i wish i was home now, so we could go out and celebrate.”

“me too. but we'll see each other this weekend for early christmas dinner, yeah?”

“that's what i wanted to talk to you about, actually. you know those roast potatoes you made last year?”

“you mean the ones you and alexa fought over the last spoonful of?” you laugh, remembering the two of them racing to the tiny kitchen in your flat to try and nab them.

“m'still fucking fuming that she got them. bitch,” matty grumbles, then giggles. “nah, she's like my sister, i love her. but yeah, those potatoes. can i have the recipe for them, please?”

you suck air in through your teeth. “well… no. that’s a family secret, lovely. m'sorry.”

“oh,” matty sounds so genuinely deflated that you could cry - you seldom see him upset, but the thought of his pretty face all sad makes you feel incredibly guilty. “that's alright, darling, i understand. my nana was the same with her soup recipes. you'd have to marry me if you wanted them.”

you hum out a laugh, brain suddenly scrambled at the thought of walking down the aisle towards him. god. get a grip! 

scrunching your eyes closed and blinking them open again - a tried and tested way to stop yourself going off on tangents - an idea pops into your head, so obvious that you’re not sure why you haven't suggested it already. “well, in lieu of us getting hitched within the next week,” you smile, enjoying the way matty laughs softly at the other end of the line. “i could come over early to yours and make the potatoes for you, if you'd like?”

“i quite like the sound of the first option, to be honest…”

what the fuck?! you have to clap a hand over your mouth to stop a gasp. or a scream. perhaps even a moan.

“...but i'm more than happy with the second one. thank you, darling,” matty's smile is as audible as his relief. “you're a lifesaver and a legend. come over whenever on sunday, yeah? wake me up if you have to. actually, no, i'll pick you up. s'the least i could do to thank you. and it means we get to spend even more time together.”

“that sounds nice,” you all but sigh into your phone. “i'm excited to see everyone.”

mostly you, though.

“as am i, darling,” matty yawns. it's the cutest sound you've ever heard. for fuck's sake. “m'not bored talking to you, honest, just tired. this is actually the most fun i've had in weeks, this phone call.”

you want to assume he's lying out of politeness, but something in your brain tells you he's being sincere; it's not like you can say anything to dispute him, either, given it's also the most fun you've had in weeks. “matty, you’re in new york. at christmas time.”

“yeah, alone! s'boring. macaulay culkin made it seem a lot more fun when i was a kid,” matty snorts. “plus, i saw you the last time i was here. any trip you're not on is just automatically a bad one.”

christ, what is with him today? “flatterer,” you smirk, before grimacing and continuing to talk. “but i assume you've not been… totally alone, the whole time? i don't like the thought of that being the case.”

you hope to god he's too tired to pick up on your actual meaning; the sight of him with another girl isn’t unfamiliar to you, but that isn’t to say you don't mind it. quite the opposite, in fact.

thank christ, he misses it. “no, i’ve been good. slept by myself every night,” he laughs.

you giggle, relieved. “really? wow.”

“why are you surprised at that?”

“you're you, matty.”

“yeah, well, i'm going through a metamorphosis-”

“kafkaesque of you.”

“knew that one was coming as soon as i said it,” matty sighs. “but in all seriousness, in the past couple of months, i've just… fully realised what i want in life, you know? and it's not what i used to want, or get up to.”

interesting. “well, that's good. m'happy for you, lovely.”

“yeah, thanks. and what about you, miss? you, um, bringing anyone to christmas dinner?”

you snort. “obvs not.”

matty hums. “why'd you say it like that?”

“like what?”

“like,” he pauses, trying to find the words. you can just picture the shape of his eyebrows as he does. “derisively. as if it's a silly question.”

“because it is a silly question, matty.”

“is it?”

“yeah,” you giggle. “i wouldn't even have time for a one night stand, let alone a relationship. not that there's anyone particularly interested, right now, anyway.”

“oh, there is,” comes the reply. “there really is.”

“if you say so.”

“believe me, darling, people want you. they're down bad. totally in love with you.”

“oh, you are so high right now, aren't you?”

“i mean, yeah. but i'm right!”

“uh huh,” you smirk. “i think you need your bed, matty.”

“pot, kettle.”

“alright, point taken,” you peel yourself off your chair, joints cracking slightly worryingly as you stand and pad across the flat to your room. “i'm going there now.”

matty sighs happily. “good. but send me a selfie as proof. accountability and all.”

it's an innocent enough ask, and not a totally unprecedented one - in the times where your self-neglect was at its worst, you would send matty and your other friends selfies so they could make sure you were alright - but the concept of sending matty a late-night pic from your bed does something quite odd to your brain and stomach.

still, you’ll oblige. but will he?

matty giggles when you ask him as much. “yeah, i'll send you one in return. i'm all about reciprocation, me.”

the words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “good to know.”

he laughs, that stupid hyena cackle of his that might be your favourite sound in the world. “christ, i've missed you.”

“it's reciprocated,” you smile, switching your phone between hands as you get into bed and hissing quietly at how cold the sheets are. “alright, i'm in my bed. and you should be too.”

“you're right, i should be,” matty says. his voice is lower than you've ever heard it, the rasp of his cigarettes prominent; despite yourself, it goes straight between your legs. “soon, though, darling. promise.”

“good,” your voice comes out breathier than expected, a setting you haven't used in some time. “i think we both need it.”

“yeah, i think we do, too,” matty yawns again, following it up with a sigh. “right. i'm going to hang up now, darling. i really don't want to, but i feel like if i don't then one of us is gonna fall asleep before we can exchange pics. and i can't be having that, honestly. miss looking at you.”

you giggle, rolling onto your stomach and kicking your legs back and forth. jesus christ, what is this man doing to you? “don't get too excited, i look like shit.”

well, you've looked worse lately - you at least showered and clipped your hair up and put on a clean outfit today. but still, far less glamorous than matty's used to.

or not - “i've literally held your hair back while you yoshed in a plant pot, darling, i think you're alright.”

“and on that note, let's wrap it up,” you laugh, rolling back to lie down. “what time should i be ready for on sunday?”

“oh, um… half twelve? that should be enough time to get everything sorted.”

“half twelve it is,” you yawn. “ok. bedtime. have a safe flight, lovely. talk soon?”

“‘course. don't forget that selfie, by the way. eagerly awaiting it.”

“et toi. lots of love, see you soon.”

“back at you, darling. goodnight.”

the call ends. you close your eyes and, for the briefest of moments, let yourself dwell on the fact your best friend - who, let's be honest, you have a bit of a crush on - shamelessly flirted with you to the point of bordering on phone sex, and let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, there's a chance he might feel the same way you do.

but it's matty. sweet, cheeky, affectionate matty, who'd find a way to flirt with a brick wall if he was bored enough. because that's what he is, really - bored, high, alone on a phone call with a girl late at night. it's just a natural thing for him to do in those circumstances. you're not special, you were just… there.

that notion stings more than you expected. but you persevere, opening your camera and fixing your glasses. he's your best friend, after all, and he asked you to do this to make sure you were alright. nothing more than that.

still, as you close your eyes and smile, you hold the phone with both hands so your boobs push ever so slightly more together. just in case. then you caption the pic as requested, and hit send.

matty’s reply buzzes in a few seconds later, eliciting a shocked giggle from your lips: fucking love it when you wear your glasses. a follow-up appears in another few seconds: if that's you looking like shit… you're defo the sexiest bit of shit i've ever seen.

fuck him for getting you flustered like this. honestly, fuck him.

and, oh, when he sends a selfie in return, shirtless in low light, hair in its natural state, one hand behind his head… don't you want to do just that?

you bite your lip as you compose your response: my condolences to the single girls in nyc who are missing out on you looking like that tonight.

matty: i know, poor them lol. but their loss is one specific single girl in london’s gain, though, yeah?

you: fuck yeah

matty: you crack me up

matty: miss you sm

matty: anyway, sweet dreams. see you in them, i hope

matty: but see you irl on sunday lol xx

you: miss you too, lovely. goodnight xx

***

sunday, 12:56pm

a mass of black fur rams into your legs as soon as you step through matty's front door. you laugh, dropping your bags and crouching to pet an over-excited mayhem, while matty grumbles behind you. “at least let her get in the house, mayhem, christ!”

“don't listen to him,” you coo at the dog, nuzzling into you quite adorably. “i'm just as happy to see you as you are to see me, baby. got a present for you and everything.”

“you did not buy the dog a christmas present,” matty groans, gently pulling the coat from your shoulders.

“of course i did. got you one as well.”

“thought we agreed we weren't doing presents this year?”

“well, i'm a dirty liar,” you brush down your dress and turn to face matty, smiling. “that, and i saw something when i was in glasgow that i couldn't resist getting you.”

matty's eyes widen near-imperceptibly as he takes in the dark red fabric clinging to you like a second skin, raking up and down your body almost too quickly for you to clock. 

almost. you bite back a smirk. got him!

much to your chagrin, though, he recovers quickly and turns the tables. “well, it's difficult to keep control when you see something… attractive,” he murmurs, gaze lifting to meet yours. “i like that dress, darling, you look gorgeous. and,” his tone and face brighten. “i actually got you a gift, too.”

the revelation is just as shocking as the way he looked at you is. “you did?”

“we're both dirty liars, it seems,” matty grins. he nods towards the kitchen. “make yourself comfortable in there, darling, and i'll go and get it. only be two minutes, promise, and then i'll help you find whatever you need, yeah?”

“you've not done a mad rearranging of your kitchen cupboards since the last time we all came over for dinner, have you?”

“nah.”

you wave nonchalantly. “then i'm good, i know where everything i need is.”

matty smiles down at you - there's an expression in his eyes that you can't quite name - and gently nudges you down the hall. his hand is light against your back, but it sends shockwaves through your nervous system regardless. “alright. give me a shout if you need anything, though, please.”

“i will, lovely,” you smile back just as sweetly. “want me to put some christmas music on? get into the festive spirit and all?”

“anything but band aid.”

you laugh, and matty joins in. “i was thinking more sinatra, anyway.”

“perfect.”

and that's exactly how he'd describe the scene in the kitchen he walks into thirty minutes later. the room is warm, made cosy by the oven that's been slow-cooking turkey for a little while now, soundtracked by frank crooning out have yourself a merry little christmas. mayhem snoozes in his bed by the massive window, which shows snow dusting over the garden like icing sugar on a cake, and then there's you. still keeping an eye on the potatoes bubbling on the hob, you sway gently to the music as you pour dried spices and seasonings into a bowl, your face as content as matty feels.

it breaks into a big smile when you see him in the doorway, white dress shirt hugging his chest quite deliciously. “oh! you got changed. i like it.”

“had to keep up with you, didn't i?” matty smiles, wandering into the room and laying a gift bag on the counter. he peers into the pan of potatoes. “thank you for doing this, by the way, darling. means a lot.”

he opens his arms, and you slot into them before they wrap around you tightly, resting your chin on matty's shoulder and smiling. “no one else i'd do it for.”

matty hums happily. “god, i've missed you. you're always a total peach to me. makes me feel good.”

“a peach? you've spent too much time stateside, matty,” you giggle, pulling away just enough to look at him. “thank god you're home for a bit. but thank you, lovely, i'll take the compliment.”

“for once, you'll take one,” matty teases. his face turns slightly more solemn. “yeah, m'glad to be home. it's a shame you won't be at any of the UK shows, though. i always like them more when you're there.”

“well, when hollywood calls, you have to answer,” you shrug, then smirk. “you just want me at the shows so i'll praise your narrative structuring again, don't you?”

matty's eyes close in bliss. “don’t tease, you literally barrelling towards me backstage screaming about midpoints and how proud of me you were is genuinely the best thing that's ever happened to me.”

“oh, shush,” you roll your eyes, suddenly shy.

“i'm serious! it'd be like joan telling you she thought one of your sentences had perfect structure. a writing compliment from you is a gift, darling.”

“well… thank you. and speaking of gifts,” you - with great reluctance - pull away from matty, bending down to grab a wrapped box from your bag. “here. joyeux noël.”

your best friend takes the present from you, murmuring a “thank you” and smiling at the tag addressed to him. he holds it to his ear and shakes the box, eyebrows raising at the slight rattle.

sighing, you roll your eyes. “just open it, matty.”

his face lights up. “alright.”

after carefully peeling the tag from the box and placing it in his pocket, matty tears through the paper and lifts the lid off. he squints at the sides of the smaller plastic boxes inside, before realisation hits and his jaw drops. “this is…”

“cassette recordings of ten blue nile gigs throughout the eighties and nineties, in their entirety,” you finish, smiling. “thought you'd like them.”

“like them? darling, this is- i don't even know what to say, other than thank you,” matty looks at you, awed, and pulls you into another tight hug. “how the fuck did you manage to get them?”

“the guy in one of the record shops i went into in glasgow was selling them. they're his recordings,” you say, half into matty’s neck. “and he'd digitised them, so he didn't need the tapes anymore, and he wanted them to go to someone who'd genuinely use them. remembered you saying you'd bought a tape deck, and i know how much you love that band, so… i kinda had to buy them.”

matty turns his head and presses a kiss onto your temple; while you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from screaming in delight, he speaks again. “you really are one of the best people i know. christ, i'm so overwhelmed by how perfect that present is. i need a drink,” he pulls away and heads to the fridge. “d’you fancy some champagne, darling, before i give you your gift? you might need it, actually.”

“that's not ominous at all,” you quip, then nod. “pour me a glass while i sort the potatoes and get them in the oven, please.”

matty nods, pulling out a bottle of perrier and grabbing glasses to take over to the table, while you drain and pat-dry the potatoes. he hums along to the background music while he fiddles around with the foil covering the champagne cork; you smile, eyes flicking up periodically to look at his cutely confused face, then back down to the food you're currently buttering and seasoning. it's incredibly domestic, a cosy little christmas dinner tableau, so much so that it hurts your heart to think that life isn't always like this for you and matty. and mayhem, obvs, curled up so adorably in his bed that you have to resist awwwwing every time you look at him.

still, it's hard to be melancholy when matty's irritation at the bottle foil is so amusing. you giggle at his grumbling, turning around to look at him scowl once the potatoes are safely in the oven. “need a hand?”

“no thanks, darling, i'm- ok, yeah, please,” matty sighs, leaning back in his chair and stretching. you pretend not to notice the way his shirt rides up and exposes his hip tattoo. “can't find the tab on the foil.”

“hmm, let me see,” you wander to the table and sit beside matty, moving your chair closer to him. well, to the bottle. “ah - that's because there isn't one.”

“well that's fucking stupid. how are you meant to open it?”

you smile, swiping your index nail across the foil; it slices clean through, and you're able to peel the covering off the cork. “like that. these aren't just for aesthetic purposes, you know.”

“that was actually quite hot. let me see them?” matty gently takes your hand in both of his own, admiring the abstract line pattern on your fingernails, tenderly rubbing his thumbs over the gel. “yeah, definitely hot. let me open the champagne from here though, darling, yeah? can't risk these pretty nails being damaged.”

you bite the inside of your cheek again; this time, to stop from giggling flirtily. “have at it, lovely.”

“i like it when you call me that,” matty smiles, grabbing the neck of the bottle in one hand and the cork in the other, and slowly twisting. “makes me feel good.”

“well, you are lovely,” you smile back. “and opening that champagne quite effectively, i must say.”

“learnt from the best,” matty winks. “you're right, though, it's a lot less messy. although i don't mind that, sometimes. s'fun.”

“yeah, me too,” you smirk, glad to be sitting down and not having to worry about your legs caving in at matty and his words. “kinda fun getting it all over your hand, isn't it?”

matty's eyes widen again, and the cork breaks free with a loud pop; before either of you can cringe at or make light of it, though, mayhem jolts awake with a yelp at the sound, and quickly runs over to sit at your feet. 

you coo at him, reaching down to scratch his sweet head and reassure him (and berate his dad). “aww, mayhem. you scared the baby, matty! look at him, he's terrified! s'ok, sweetheart, i'll keep you safe. come on, you can have your christmas present to cheer you up.”

matty rolls his eyes, but he can't keep the smile from his face as he watches his dog eagerly follow you to your bag. “you know, mayhem, you're such a sap, honestly.”

“oi, don't talk about my friend like that,” you frown, face lighting up as you find what you're looking for in your bag. “aha! here you go, mayhem. merry christmas.”

the dog takes the guitar-shaped dog toy with relish, plodding back over to his bed and playing with it contentedly. matty leans to the side to look at mayhem's gift, bursting into laughter when he sees it. “fucking brilliant. that'll be his new favourite, by the way. but you're his favourite, so it checks out, i s'pose.”

“really?”

“oh, he loves you. he never gets so excited to see anyone else,” matty nods, pouring champagne and sliding a glass to you. “bet he'd enjoy seeing more of you. as would i, actually - i really like spending time with you, darling.”

you nod, touched. “so do i,” you raise a glass. “to seeing more of each other next year.”

matty clinks his glass off yours, repeating your words with a soft smile. you take a sip of your respective drinks, humming in satisfaction as the champagne hits your lips. you nod again as you swallow. “christ, that's good.”

“agreed. and now that we've had a drink,” matty puts his glass down, then leans back in his chair and reaches to grab your gift from the counter. he presents it to you with a grin. “merry christmas, darling. save the box til last, yeah?”

“ok. thank you,” you smile sheepishly, opening the bag and pulling out its contents: a notebook, with a pen tucked into the front cover, a book, and a thin, a4-size box. laying them on the table, you inspect each facet of the present in turn, starting with the notebook. “a parker pen? matty, this is beautiful.”

“that one's also kinda a congratulations gift for getting your manuscript in. there's a little message on the inside, too,” comes his reply. 

you flick your gaze up to find him blushing, and it makes you smile even wider. carefully, you lift open the black cover, and find matty's familiar scrawl on the inside: to my favourite writer… this is for the next one. lots of love, matty ♡. a little giggle leaves your lips, and you reach for your friend's hand to squeeze it. “you really are the loveliest, you know.”

“shhh, it's nothing,” matty softly rubs the back of your hand with his thumb. “the next bits are the good ones, really. m'excited to see you react to them.”

“better not keep you waiting, then,” you smile, reaching for the book; you let out a little cry of excitement when you read the title. “on beauty! i haven't read this since i was at uni, my god. thanks, matty, i can't believe you remembered me saying that! oh, this is amazing.”

“open it.”

your head shoots up. “what? why?”

matty smiles. “just do it, please.”

“alright,” you do as requested. when you see what’s on the title page, your jaw drops. “matthew…”

“oh, shit, the full name. am i in trouble?” matty quips, smirking as he takes another sip of champagne.

“no, no, just… you got zadie fucking smith to sign a book for me? with a personal message?” you all but sob, lip quivering, completely overcome. “she's telling me she loves my work? what the fuck?”

“well, she's got good taste.”

“matty,” you wail. “this is the best gift i've ever been given.”

matty giggles. “no it isn't.”

“i'm telling you, it really is.”

“nah,” matty gently tugs the book from your hands and replaces it with the box. “this might be, though. but you need to stop crying before you open it, though, darling. can i just…?”

tenderly, so tenderly, matty takes your face in his hands and uses his thumbs to carefully wipe the tears pooling on your lower lashline. at his touch alone, your breathing starts to regulate; the same can't be said for your heart or brain, which both go haywire at the intimacy of his actions, something not helped by him whispering reassuringly to you. “there you are, darling. you're alright.”

it's not a question, but you nod anyway. “thank you.”

“anytime,” matty lets go of your face and sits back; you miss him as soon as he lets go. “right. now you can open it.”

with a smile, you lift the lid from the box - it falters, though, as soon as you take in the words on the paper in front of you. “these are outlines.”

“yeah, they are. look closer, darling.”

you squint at the paper, a choked noise escaping your lips. “feel free… fuck off. zadie gave you her essay notes?!”

“she did. and told me to give them to you.”

“how?”

“well,” matty grins, shuffling in his seat. “i went to see her and nick while i was in new york, and i asked her to sign the book while i was there. when she found out it was for you… she insisted you have those. printed more off for me and everything. she thinks you're the shit, darling.”

“you're sure she didn't say i was shit?” you hiccup, sliding the box onto the table before your tears hit the paper and picking up your glass for a long drink.

“positive. she only had lovely things to say about you,” matty takes your glass and refills it, beaming at you. “so, yeah. bit of a weird present, i know, but i knew you'd appreciate it.”

you laugh through your tears, wiping your eyes and shuffling your chair next to matty's to hug him. “i really do. and i appreciate you even more. thank you, lovely, you're too good to me.”

“nah, you deserve the best, darling,” matty’s hand comes up to rest on the back of your hair, stroking it gently.

you wallow in the tender moment for a second, before pulling back to smile at him. “m'sorry for crying, christ.”

he shakes his head. “don't worry about it, s'cute. and you still look fit when you cry, so…”

“shut up,” you laugh, shoving his shoulder.

“really, you look perfect,” matty smiles, eyes soft. “m'glad you came over early today. not just because it means we get the good potatoes, but because we get to do this, have a bit of peace before everyone gets here. s'nice. really nice.”

you nod. “it is. thanks for having me. and for the gift.”

he kisses your hand. “anytime. thank you for my gift. and just for being you, i s'pose.”

“it's like you want me to keep crying.”

“well, like i said, you look fit,” matty grins. “but nah, i'll stop. let's have a nice time and get rid of this champagne before everyone else gets here, yeah?”

“sounds like a plan.”

so that's what you do - sit at matty's kitchen table, drinking champagne and watching mayhem playing with his new toy, talking and laughing with your best friend. outside, the snow falls faster and faster, blanketing the garden in pristine white, but it's falling nowhere near as quickly as you are for matty. when the front door goes, you’re actually welcome for the excuse to leave the table, the kitchen, the intense care in those beautiful eyes that threatens to shatter your sanity and perspective.

it's your newly engaged friends, laden with more champagne and christmas crackers. once you've exchanged pleasantries, your friend sends her fiancé into the kitchen with the bags so she can interrogate you. “now why are you here so early? you're a little bit unsteady on your feet… oh my god, did you and matty fuck?”

“no! christ! and keep your fucking voice down,” you hiss, looking back down the hall to make sure the coast is clear. “i came over early to help with dinner. and we opened champagne. that's it.”

her eyes narrow. “but you want to fuck him, don't you?”

you open your mouth to answer, but pause for a split-second too long; she cuts back in again. “oh, you do! well, you should.”

“i don't just want to fuck him, babe,” you sigh, leaning against the cold concrete wall. your brain is screaming at you to shut up, but you can't. “i… like him. in a more-than-platonic way. like in a deep way.”

“so… tell him that.”

you blanch. “today?”

“yes! it's christmas. we've all seen love actually - it's the perfect time!” she quietly claps, beaming. “and you won't see him again until my birthday dinner, so if the revelation goes tits up… you've got two months to get over it.”

“really filling me with confidence here.”

“sorry,” she kisses your cheek. “i just like the thought of the two of you being happy, that's all.”

“i know, it's just-”

“darling?” matty wanders down the hall to you, pulling your friend into a welcoming hug, then turning to face you. “sorry to interrupt, but your timer is going off.”

“oh, thanks, lovely,” you smile at him. “be in in a minute, yeah?”

“alright. looking forward to it,” with a wink, he's gone again.

your friend smiles at him, then turns to you. “he is looking forward to you returning to the same room as him. how interesting!”

“yeah, because it means we all get the roast potatoes i made. that's it.”

“oh, you made those again? amazing,” she nods appreciatively, then looks at you and tilts her head. “he could still just be looking forward to being in close proximity to you again, though. wonder if there's any mistletoe around.”

“shut up, please, i am literally begging.”

she laughs, tucking you under her arm and walking to the kitchen. “alright, i'll leave it be tonight. but i'm just saying - i think you have to seriously consider that matty might want you under his christmas tree this month just as much as you want him under yours.”

“and i think you have to seriously consider that you might be delusional.”

The ashtray on the coffee table was half-full, the dim lamp behind Matty casting long shadows over the worn cushions of his couch. He sat there with his legs spread, cigarette perched between his fingers, the smoke curling around his face and in the air.

You were straddling him, thighs flush against his hips, your hands braced on his shoulders for balance. His pants were undone, half-pulled down, yours discarded somewhere on the floor. The slow grind of your hips against hi matched the beat of a low song playing in the background.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmured, low and breathy near your ear. “Look at you, takin’ it so well.”

You were already moaning quietly, riding him slow and deep, your body moving in time with every shallow breath he took. Matty’s hand slid up the curve of your waist, then back down to squeeze your ass before landing a soft spank on the flesh.

“Good girl,” he whispered. “That’s it. Just like that. You love bein’ full of me, yeah?”

You nodded, lips parted, eyes fluttering shut at the sound of his praise. Matty reached for the cigarette again, took a slow drag, then tapped the ash into the tray. His other hand never left your waist, fingertips pressing into your hips possessively, grounding you against him.

“Wanna taste?” he asked, smirking.

You nodded again, and he brought the cigarette to your lips, letting you lean forward to take a hit while still grinding down on his length. The smoke hit your lungs at the same time the tip of his cock nudged against your sweet spot making your head spin.

“Such a good little thing,” he whispered, watching your lips wrap around the cigarette again, eyes gleaming with what seemed like pride. “Doin’ all the work… keepin’ me so fuckin’ hard with that tight little cunt.”

Your hips bucked at his words, and his smirk turned smug, knowing exactly what he was doing to you. He brought the cigarette back to his own mouth, took a drag, then crushed it out lazily in the ashtray without breaking eye contact.

“Gonna let you come like this,” he murmured, tilting his head as he looked at you. “Work for it. Show me how desperate you are.”

You whimpered at that, thighs starting to shake as you rode him faster, your hands gripping his shoulders harder, nails digging into skin. His hands moved to your tits, thumbs brushing over your nipples, pinching the buds lightly in between his fingers making you gasp.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned. “Use me. Dirty fuckin’ girl loves it, doesn’t she?”

You picked up the pace at his words as your hips rolled against his, chasing the friction, your climax building sharp in your gut. Matty leaned forward, lips brushing your ear again.

“Say it,” he whispered. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“Feels so good, Matty,” you panted, voice trembling. “So deep—fuck, gonna come, please…”

“Go on,” he urged, voice low and filthy. “Come for me, you earned it. My good girl.”

You did, hard, legs trembling, body arching into him as your orgasm ripped through you. He held you through it, his arms wrapping around you, his mouth pressing kisses into your neck as you whined out a string of profanities.

“Fuck,” he hissed, thrusting up once more, holding you down as he came too, groaning against your skin before biting down and sucking a dark purple bruise into your neck.

The room was quiet again except for your heavy breathing, and the sound of the soft music mingling in the air with the smoke. Matty reached for another cigarette, lit it with a flick of his lighter, and exhaled slowly.

You were still in his lap, your head resting on his shoulder when he offered you the first hit. You smiled lazily up at him, parting your mouth slightly as he brought it down to your lips.

“There she is,” he said, eyes soft but smug. “My perfect fuckin’ girl.”

You’re sitting not-so-patiently in your apartment, scrolling through a random streaming service, trying to find something interesting to watch. A sudden knock at your door jolts you out of your deep contemplation. You get off your couch and walk over to your door, getting on your tip toes to look through the peep hole. Smiling softly to yourself at the sight of Matty, you unlock the door and open it.

“What could you possibly want?” You joke with him, opening the door wider and motioning for him to come inside. Matty lets out a chuckle and walks inside, kicking his shoes off. You shut the door behind him and lock it again, turning to face him.

“What a way to welcome a guest, love.” He grins cheekily, teasing you. He pulls a baggy out of his coat pocket, and shakes it in front of your face. “Special delivery!” Matty sing-songs, holding an eighth of weed in his hands.

“Only took you the whole day.” You tease, snatching the baggy out of his hands and walking towards the couch. He follows after you, laughing to himself.

“Someones in a mood, huh?” Matty questions, sitting next to you on your couch.

You ignore his comment and grab your grinder off the coffee table, opening it and the bag of weed. Your fingers work skillfully, pulling apart the large buds, putting the smaller pieces in the grinder.

Matty watches you intently, grabbing some rolling papers out of his pocket and setting them on the table, silently offering you them. You glance over at him and grin, “You’re a life saver, how’d you know I didn’t have any?”

He chuckles and shrugs, “Lucky guess.”

You continue to work on the bud, twisting the grinder in your hands. You open it back up slowly, making sure no bud falls out. Matty takes the grinder out of your hands and pours some of the ground bud on the paper and begins rolling it up. His fingers work nimbly as he leans down and wets the lining of the paper with his tongue, securing it. You stare at him, lost in the way he continues to finish the joint with ease.

“You got a lighter, love?” Matty’s question jolts you out of your trance, you look back up at his face quickly. You clear your throat softly and reach into your hoodie pocket, fishing out your lighter.

Matty laughs to himself, your gaze not going unnoticed. He takes the lighter from your hand and sits back on the couch, lighting the joint. He inhales deeply, allowing the smoke to travel down deep into his lungs, the burning sensation feeling familiar and welcomed. After holding the hit in, he exhales, letting the smoke escape past his lips.

He holds the joint out towards you, “That’s some good shit babe, you’re gonna love it.” You reach out for the joint and bring it towards your lips. You inhale, watching the cherry light up. The smoke fills your lungs quickly, warm and comforting. Closing your eyes, you lean back on the couch as well, exhaling up at the ceiling. A smile falls across your face, your eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss.

You both sit in silence and continue to pass the joint in between each other. Coughing every so often when either of you accidentally take too big of a hit. Your head turns and you look over at Matty, your eyes feeling heavy.

Through the smoke filled living room, his eyes meet yours. A smirk spreads across his face, "How're you feeling, love?" His voice sounds far away, your head swimming in your high. He ashes the last of the joint on the paper towel sitting on the table. Matty reaches for the blanket on the back of your couch and throws it over the both of you, scooting closer until your legs are touching.

You grin at him lazily, letting the warmth of the blanket engulf your body. His hand reaches out and rests on your thigh under the blanket. Heat travels up onto your cheeks, the air suddenly thickening.

"Matty," You breathe out softly, resting your head on his shoulder. The sudden need for him overtaking every fiber of your being.

You look up at him through your lashes, your pupils blown wide. "I need you-" You mumble out, barely coherent.

Matty moves quickly at your request, his body molding with yours as he pulls you onto his lap without difficulty. You gasp out softly at the quick movement, your hands moving onto his shoulders to steady yourself.

"You need me to do what? Use your words, pretty girl." Matty hums, his hand moving to your cheek then your neck, slightly applying pressure.

You gulp underneath his grip, voice barely above a whisper, "Need you to fuck me." You grip onto his shoulders tighter, giving yourself leverage to grind your hips lazily but firmly against his. Your cheeks redden as you feel his erection growing through his pants.

Matty's grip tightens on your throat, properly cutting off your airways momentarily. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, eyes rolling into the back of your head. His grip loosens lightly, eyes watching you intensely.

Matty trails his hand down from your throat to your chest, reaching his other hand under your hoodie, helping you pull it off. His eyes flicker down to your exposed chest, his pupils expanding at the sight.

"Fuckin' so pretty, baby." He breathes out, eyes drinking you in.

You continue to grind against him, small whines escaping from your mouth. Leaning down, you attach your lips to his, kissing him with fever. Matty moans into the kiss, his hands moving down to grip your hips.

Deepening the kiss, you run your hands under his shirt, pulling at it. Matty breaks the kiss for a moment to pull his shirt over his head, chucking it somewhere in the room. Your hands roam up and down his chest before resting your hand on the hem of his jeans. Biting your lip, you undo his belt and pull it off quickly.

You let yourself slip off his lap, grabbing onto his jeans and boxers, pulling them down with you. The blanket falls off of you, gathering at the ground. Your knees hit the floor gently as you look up at him. Matty spits into his hand, and rubs his length, wetting it. You watch with heavy lids, eyes silently begging him.

Matty reaches down and grips your chin in between his fingers, “Gonna suck me off? Get me all ready and wet for your pussy? Hm?” His tone almost condescending.

You nod quickly, wanting to please him in any way possible. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, vibrating with anticipation.

He pulls your face towards his hips, gripping onto your chin. Matty gives you a small nod, silently granting you permission. You grab onto the base of his dick, pulling it towards your lips. Your tongue gives his tip small kitten licks before taking his length into your mouth quickly.

Matty groans out as your head bobs up and down over his length, your lips sucking him off feverishly. He bites his lip hard, watching you take his full length with ease.

You continue to suck, swirling your tongue around his length. Your eyes water slightly as his tip hits the back of your throat, but your movements don’t falter.

Matty’s hand grips onto your hair, pulling you off of him. A trail of spit connects from your lips to his length, your eyes blown.

Matty is panting heavily, memorizing the look in your eyes as he pulls you back onto his lap. He tugs your shorts down quickly as you straddle him. His hand reaches down and feels the wet spot forming on your thong. Your cheeks redden, almost embarrassed from how wet you are just from sucking him off.

“So fucking wet for me, baby. I don’t even have to prep you, yeah?” Matty taps the front of your panties, pushing them to the side, exposing your dripping cunt.

“Please fuck me, please,” You whine out, pushing down on his erection.

Matty smirks at you, and lines himself up with your pussy, guiding you down onto his length. You gasp out softly as you inch yourself down, your aching heat pulsating around him.

“Fuck, so tight, you feel so good around me, love.” Matty grunts out, his head leaning back against the couch, watching you as you sink down.

At his praise, you start to bring your hips up and then back down in quick succession, riding him. Small whines fall from your lips as he hits the sweet spot inside of you.

Matty’s hands rest on your hips, helping you ride him more efficiently. His nails dig into your skin, leaving crescent shaped indents in your hips. You moan out, unable to contain yourself. Your hips continue to rock into his.

“Feels so good, Matty..“ You breathe out heavily, your fingers gripping onto him tightly. Your head leans down on his shoulder, nuzzling into his neck as you continue to ride him with earnest.

His hips buck up into yours as you feel your orgasm quickly approaching. You pant into his neck, biting down gently as his length hits your spot repeatedly. You let out a muffed grunt as you feel Matty’s hips stutter, his thrusts becoming shorter and quicker, chasing his own release.

“Gonna come baby, fuck.” He moans out, gripping onto your hair and pulling your head out from his neck. You whimper at the feeling of his fingers in your hair. Your hips falter as your orgasm falls over your body, your tight heat clenching down on him.

Matty watches you with heavy eyes, his mouth open in a silent moan, watching your orgasm wash over you. It was enough to send him over the edge too, quickly pulling your hips off of his length. He grips onto his length and gives it a few firm strokes before spilling his load all over your lower stomach. His head hits the back of the couch again, stroking himself through his orgasm. Your eyes stare at him, your lip bitten between your teeth, mesmerized.

His chest rises and falls quickly after he finishes, his other hand instinctively goes back to your hips holding onto you. You smile softly to yourself, trying to slow your breathing. Your body falls into his softly, your forehead leaning onto his as your breathing syncs up.

A smile forms on his face, breathing with you. You push yourself off of him with what little strength you had left, plopping down next to him. Your legs slightly shaking.

Matty takes notice and gets up, walking to your bathroom to get a towel. He comes back and carefully wipes the come off your belly, also cleaning himself off after. Matty tosses the towel to the ground and pulls his boxers back on, sitting next to you on the couch again. He pulls you into his arms, letting you rest your head on his shoulder.

A smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. “Well that was..” You start, a breathy laugh forming.

“Perfect, yeah.” Matty finishes your sentence, looking at you and instinctively placing a soft kiss to the top of your head. Pink flushes your cheeks as you move in closer to him, your hand resting on his chest, wanting him closer.

His fingers start tracing the freckles on your skin, admiring the goosebumps he’s leaving in its wake. The smile never leaves his face as he reaches down and puts his finger under your chin, moving your eyes up to his.

You smile up at him, your eyes still pink from your high, studying his face. His eyes glimmer in the dim lighting, his pupils expanding as he looks at you with adoration.

“I’ve always wanted to do that, y’know.” Matty admits, his voice cracking momentarily from his dry throat.

You grin at his admittance, nodding. “Me too. Been so hard just being a customer of yours. Always wanted more.” You whisper out, the high still lowering your inhibitions.

His eyes flash from your eyes to your lips then back to your eyes, the sudden confession fueling something inside of him. You notice and pull him in for a soft kiss.

“God, you’re a fucking dream, baby.” He mumbles against your lips, smiling, kissing you back gently before pulling away.

You let out a small laugh, grabbing the remote on the coffee table, before tucking yourself back into his side. As you get comfortable, you scroll through the options on the streaming service, ultimately deciding on one of your favorite comedies.

You glance up at Matty as he plays with your hair, stroking it softly. He’s watching the movie intently, running his fingers absentmindedly through your hair. Your eyes focus back on the TV as a warm feeling spreads across your cheeks and chest. You let your body melt into his as your eyes flutter shut.

my masterlist

“good point. still, i expect to hear all about it later!”

“of course. thanks again for helping with this, mate,” you give your friend a hug. “right, you lot, hugs to uncle adam before we go inside.”

adam crouches so dylan and elena can cuddle him, then stands to boop phoebe's tiny nose. “see you all at dinner. have fun!”

“we will!” dylan calls after him. grabbing the handle of her suitcase, she turns to look at you expectantly. “can we go in now, mummy?”

the eagerness is practically radiating off her and elena - actually, even phoebe, barely a year old, seems keen to get inside to see her dad. then again, her two big sisters did spend the entire flight from london to LA explaining that matty was away for work and it was about to be his birthday and the reason you were all on the plane was so you could go and surprise him at work “and also to go to the beach”. while she might be too little to fully understand what they're saying - especially given that both of your elder daughters inherited the matty trait of rambling at the speed of light - their enthusiasm was definitely contagious; despite your lethargy from trying to get three under-eights through an airport and onto a plane in peace, your own excitement about seeing matty for the first time in two months was heightened listening to them yap.

you nod, smiling at your girls. “open the door, dyl, sweetheart. remember to be really quiet when we're going in, yeah? we don't want to wake daddy up before we're ready, do we?”

“no,” elena shakes her head, wild curls flying everywhere. she's the one most like her dad, in personality and looks, with a big toothy smile and a frequent disdain for rules or convention. “and we need to put all our things away first, too.”

well, sometimes she's very like you. “exactly, lena. help your sister with the door, would you?”

little faces set in determination, dylan and elena push the heavy door open as quietly as possible; you shift phoebe into one arm and hold it with the other while they grab their suitcases, then swap the baby to your other arm while you grab your own. once you're in the little entryway, dylan sensibly grabs the handle so she can close the door with minimal noise, turning to you with a grin. “we did it.”

“we did. well done, munchkins,” you high-five dylan and elena, and kiss phoebe's fluffy little head before looking around the hotel room - although, suite would be a more accurate word to describe it. you knew management were booking some sort of family room for matty in preparation for the birthday surprise, but you didn't quite expect something so elaborate. “wow, this is nice.”

“it's so big!” elena pokes her head round the nearest door to you, left ajar, and returns absolutely beaming. “that's daddy's room.”

dylan gasps and tiptoes to stick her own head in, and you follow, excitement buzzing through your body. at the sight of matty, fast asleep with his curls askew and the covers bunched around his waist, you sigh happily; even after all these years together, you're not used to being away from him, and the sight of him within touching distance after almost nine weeks of nothing but facetimes and texts and phone calls honestly brings a lump to your throat.

you can't keep looking at him forever, though, as easy as it would be for you to do - you and your daughters are on a mission, after all. “right. lena, could you open the door on the left, please? the one across from dad's?”

she obliges. “bathroom - oh!” she gasps. “the shower has a bench in it!”

“really?” you peer in, jaw dropping in complete bewilderment - the room's bigger than the master bedroom in the old flat. “shi- shocked. i'm shocked. anyway,” you nudge her out of the doorway. “moving on. next room?”

dylan's already on it. “another bedroom, mum. two beds.”

“that's you two's, then. come on, we'll put our stuff in here for now.”

it's a lovely room, sun-dappled and spacious. you giggle as elena cannonballs onto one of the beds, while dylan immediately goes to the window to look out onto los angeles; phoebe coos happily as you lay her on the other bed, kicking her tiny legs in the air with reckless abandon. she giggles when you lean down to blow a raspberry on her tummy, your favourite sound in the world, and cuddles into you when you take her into your arms again. “alright, my girls, i think it's time,” you start, and the two older girls come skidding over. “who's got dad's birthday card?”

“me,” elena runs to her carry-on, pulling out the card the three of them made for matty and carrying it over as if it was made of glass.

“and the present?”

“here,” dylan holds up a gift bag.

you nod. “good. you ready?”

they both nod enthusiastically, little bobbleheads with cheesy grins. you grin in return, turning to phoebe. “are you ready, baba?”

adorably, she grins back just as cheesily as her sisters; you take that as a “yes”, although you carefully sniff her to make sure she doesn't need changed. with an approving nod, you stand up, smiling. “alright. let's go and see daddy. quietly.”

you've barely got the words out before dylan and elena are tiptoeing as quickly as they can out of the room, graceless impersonations of the demi-pointe running they do at ballet class. turning to phoebe, you sigh. “nice of them to wait for us, isn't it, pheebs?”

she giggles again, a flash of matty genes amidst a face that looks mostly like yours. even though you've been married to him for years and loved him even longer, the fact you have three kids with matty is a little bit mind-boggling to you. in all those years you spent pining for him, the thought of a family was far-fetched even in your wildest dreams - thinking about your girls, half you and half him, flesh and blood with hearts of gold and incredible brains and the biggest smiles you've ever seen… it's honestly a little overwhelming, in the best possible way; a perfect epilogue to a love story that took a few more pages to kick in than it should've.

“mama,” phoebe coos, distracting you, beaming when you coo praise in response. yeah, she only knows two words, but she learned them scarily fast compared to her sisters - again, you reckon it's down to their and matty's respective constant yapping. “dada?”

“yes, sweet girl, we'll go and see him now,” you hoist her further into your grasp, kissing her chubby cheek before following your other sweet girls. they’re waiting outside matty’s door, looking between it and you like they’re watching wimbledon, practically vibrating with excitement. the sight makes you smile. “ok, girls, game plan time. i say we all sit on the empty side of the bed, and when i give the signal, we shout ‘surprise!’. classic, simple, effective. yeah?”

“good idea, mum,” dylan nods. “now?”

you grin. “yeah.”

she bolts into the room, ducking round the half-open door without touching it, elena at her heels. you can’t really stop yourself from running, either, although the door hinders you slightly more given that you’re holding phoebe. and, you know, you’re not five or seven. by the time you and the baby get in, the girls have already carefully climbed onto the bed, staring lovingly down at matty not unlike the way they stared at phoebe when she first came home from the hospital.

the thought makes you giggle, which in turn makes elena turn round to scowl at you. “mummy! shhhh!”

“sorry. here, dyl, take… thanks,” you pass phoebe to her biggest sister while you climb onto the bed, too; dylan carefully sits the baby down beside her, the resemblance between them especially evident in the way they’re smiling. you can’t blame them - you might be biased, but you do think your husband is a very cute sleeper, pretty lips slightly parted and eyelashes brushing his cheek.

a cute sleeper, beginning to wake up already. dylan and elena are coiled springs, ready to shout-shock their dad into full consciousness - their faces aren’t visible where you sit, but you know that they’re grinning. you are, too. so is phoebe, most likely.

two months apart. far too long.

matty’s arms stretch the exact same way dylan’s do when she first wakes up (and you do your best to keep your thoughts about them to a PG rating). you’ve been privy to his wakeup routine countless times since you were eighteen, and, still, your heart flutters at the way he yawns and rolls onto his side, lips set into a sleepy faint smile, blinking his eyes open. but, before you can even open your mouth to signal “now!”, those eyes widen fully; accompanied by a “christ!”, matty jumps (well, jerks) backward in surprise, and, in the process, completely falls out of the bed.

all four of the rest of you crawl to the edge of the bed, reactions varying to the echoing thud of your husband’s arse hitting the hardwood floor. dylan and elena are beside themselves with laughter, clutching each other in complete hysterics, while you lean over in shock, tentatively asking “baby, you alright?”. but it’s phoebe’s reaction that matty actually responds to, pulling himself back up when he hears her concerned wail of “dada!” and sees her lip trembling, a sign of imminent tears - he climbs onto the mattress and shuffles towards the centre, scooping her up into a cuddle and pressing gentle kisses to her little head. “oh, my sweet baby. daddy’s alright, munchkin, really, but i appreciate the concern,” he scowls at the older two. “at least one of my daughters cares about me.”

“sorry, dad,” dylan moves to snuggle into him, elena copying the action on the other side. “we do care. but that was a little bit funny.”

he smiles, leaning down as best he can to kiss their curls in turn. “yeah, i s’pose it was. and i’ve missed making you all laugh, even if that time was unintentional. missed you, all of you, my girls!”

elena looks up at her dad adoringly. “missed you too. a lot. so has dyl, and pheebs. and mummy.”

“yeah,” matty looks at you properly for the first time; his eyes look like home, warm and loving and familiar, and it still does funny things to your stomach. “hi, darling. you kept this quiet, didn’t you?”

“wanted to surprise you, baby,” you move to kiss him, as passionately as you can with three kids around; despite the restraint from both of you, you’re lightheaded when you break apart. “happy birthday.”

“thanks, my darlings,” matty blushes, amid a chorus of felicitations from your daughters. he sniffles and hugs the baby tighter, tears welling in those pretty eyes. “this is really special, having you all out here with me today. god, you’ve no idea how much i’ve missed you.”

“yeah, we do,” you laugh softly, leaning around phoebe to gently wipe the tears from his eyes with your thumbs; he kisses your palm as a thank-you. “we took a twelve-hour flight across the atlantic because we didn’t want to be away from you any longer! thank god management agreed to it, by the way. reckon i’d have gone insane if i had to wait for tour to end before i got to be with you again. and yes,” you notice matty opening his mouth to speak. “we’re here until hometime.”

“oh, thank god,” matty’s eyes close in bliss. “i miss home.”

“funny you should say that, actually,” you wave to get dylan’s attention, nodding towards the gift bag. “take a look at your birthday present.”

“and card,” elena chips in.

“and card, of course,” you settle the baby against your own chest, smiling as matty tugs the girls into a cuddle after he reads the card from them; it turns to a full-on giggle when he opens the gift bag. “so, verdict?”

matty cheers, pulling out the box of pg tips teabags and packet of chocolate digestives. “you always know just what i need,” he wraps an arm around you, kissing your head.

“yeah, which is why there’s also a new turntable waiting for you at home, too. we were gonna buy a record to go with it, but,” you look up at your husband quizzically. “we thought it might be nice to go shopping for one here, together?”

he kisses you sweetly. “i love that idea. to be honest, i’d be happy doing anything with my girls. shall we go record shopping today?”

“matty, babe, it’s your birthday. you decide!”

“alright. record shopping it is,” he grins, increasing the volume of his voice as he continues. “but first… i’m thinking we should order room service.”

elena’s face lights up. “can we get pancakes? please? with nutella? and strawberries?”

matty gestures towards the entryway. “menu’s out there, munchkins. go and have a look, see what you want,” he smiles after elena and dylan as they tear out of the room. “can’t believe you managed to get those adorable riots on a transatlantic flight by yourself. and you, baba!” he coos to phoebe, who babbles excitedly in response. her dad laughs, kissing her head before kissing you. “seriously, i’m in awe of you. have been for decades at this point already, but… i’m so impressed that you pulled this off. and so grateful. and so in love with you, forever and always.”

"you should've just woken me up, babe," you say, turning to face your husband. at the sight of him, heavy-eyed and softly smiling, hair messy and shirt absolutely nowhere to be found, you can feel your heartbeat increase its tempo; it goes without saying that you fancy matty all of the time, but there's something especially alluring about him when he's just woken up, always has been.

"nah," matty smiles, languidly trailing his index finger along your bare leg. "you're cute when you sleep, far too cute for me to disturb. and you always get really grumpy when i wake you up before you actually need to be awake."

"no i don't!"

"sweetheart, not once in the almost twenty years i've known you have you ever responded well to anybody waking you up early. even me."

"you're fibbing."

"go on, then," matty challenges, smirking. "name one time you've actually been happy when i've woken you up before your alarm's gone off."

you smirk even more mischievously. "the day after we got back from our honeymoon. i woke up to you eating me out from behind, and then you fucked me so hard i couldn't walk properly for three days. d'you remember that?"

matty's jaw goes slack. he closes his eyes and inhales shakily as he nods, slightly dumbfounded, before he looks at you and speaks again. "you wore that cream silk number to bed the night before, the same one you wore on our wedding night. that, and nothing else but your ring."

"seems to have made quite the impression on both of us," you giggle, running a hand through his hair.

matty huffs out a laugh. "darling, you have no idea. i just remember thinking… that's the sexiest woman in the whole world right there, and she's my wife," he says, pulling you onto his lap for a kiss. although it's a fairly chaste liplock (for the two of you, at least), you can feel him getting hard under his boxers. "couldn't not go down on you, lying there all bare and wet like that. quite in the mood to recreate it now, if i'm honest."

fuck.

the memory of the events that followed your totally-not-calculated-whatever-do-you-mean move is enough to make you wet as is, but the thought of recreating it with the matty of right now, all gravel-voiced and grey-flecked curls and gooey eyes whenever he looks at you and muscle? it takes everything in you not to start grinding on him, or the pillow, or anything you think would effectively ease the wanton desire rooted between your legs and quickly blooming to your brain.

but as much as you want to pretend you're still newlyweds… not everything is the same as it was in the literal honeymoon phase. you rub the sleep from your eyes in an effort to recalibrate your brain somewhat. "but the kids-"

"will absolutely be asleep for at least another hour and a half," matty says softly, thumbs circling over your hipbones reassuringly. "they had a late night, after all, out at their first non-daddy concert. we might be raising a pair of party girls, babe."

you smile. matty's right, you know that - despite frequent and loud proclamations throughout the paramore gig that she was "not tired, mum!", seven year old elena was asleep in the backseat before matty had even reversed out of the car park after the show, and your nine year old didn't fare much better. unlike her sister, though, dylan at least had the good grace to stay awake until the four of you were back in the house and in your respective bedrooms, well after midnight given london traffic. such a late bedtime for them, plus their maternally-inherited need to stay asleep until the last possible second… yeah, their dad's assessment about today's wake-up time is likely to be spot on.

grabbing matty's face in your hands, you pull him in for another kiss, slightly less innocent than the last. "alright," you murmur against his lips. "but at least let me go and check on them first."

"please be quick," matty whispers, desperation evident in his voice. he smiles sweetly, though, as you climb off the bed and head towards your bedroom door. "but give them a kiss from me."

you nod, quickly darting across the landing towards elena's half-open door. dodging various barbies scattered across the floor (and making a mental note to get her to clean her room later today), you tiptoe towards your daughter, cocooned in her duvet with her wild curls poking out, fast asleep. after gently placing the requisite kiss on her hair, you tread carefully back across the threshold and into dylan's room. 

the floor there is far tidier than in her sister's room, but there are books and cd's (a mix of her own growing collection and some you and matty have loaned her) piled haphazardly on every flat surface; there's even a jacqueline wilson novel in your sleeping daughter's hand, still open to the page dylan was reading when she nodded off. picking up a stray bookmark from the bedside table, you gently peel her fingers from the book - kissing her hand as you do - and quietly place it next to the alarm clock. dylan stirs slightly, and you freeze mid-backing out of the door, but she just pulls her duvet closer to her and settles back into sleep. you close the door behind you as quietly as you can, and pad back to your own bedroom and your husband.

your husband, lying with the covers bunched around his waist and his hands behind his head, looking delectable. his eyes trail up over your bare legs as you lean against the back of the closed door, over your hips, accentuated by the cut of his old brown t-shirt, over the curves of your tits, straining against the fabric, over your face, surely displaying some expression of lust towards him. matty's gaze is almost predatory as he looks at you; the intensity of it sends a burst of heat shooting through your core, so strong you can't help but cross your legs slightly. he notices, of course he does, and smirks at you.

god, he's so fucking hot. you aren't sure whether to rush to him immediately, or just continue to look at him.

matty makes the choice for you. "get over here, healy, i want to kiss you."

your heart flutters at the familiar phrasing. but you raise a brow, still lingering by the door. "isn't that my line?"

"well, see, one of the joys of marriage is the sharing, sweetheart. last names, seduction lines…"

"that's a seduction, to you?"

matty winks. "got me into bed with you, didn't it?"

"fair point, babe," you nod, peeling your t-shirt over your head - matty's breath audibly hitches, and you can practically feel your ego inflate. "and i guess it works on me, too."

matty groans when you climb onto the bed and crawl towards him. admittedly, it's overkill, because you know damn well he's more than willing to fuck you, but you also know that the more you rile him up, the harder said fucking will be; judging by the way the pupils of his eyes have almost swallowed up the beautiful brown irises at the sight of your tits swaying as you near him, you'll be surprised if you can walk later today.

you can't fucking wait.

neither can matty, apparently - before you can even register what's happening, you're on your back with your head against the pillows, your husband slotting himself between your legs as he leans down to kiss you. there's no sweetness in this kiss at all, only lips latching and teeth biting and tongues swiping the oxygen from both of your brains, hands grabbing blindly, hips grinding against each other and dragging moans from both of your throats.

a particularly enthusiastic one of yours has matty pulling away from your mouth to speak. "shhh, sweetheart," he coos, lips finding a new home on your neck. "can't wake up our babies, yeah? not until mummy and daddy have had some fun, at least."

"m'sorry, i know," you whimper, hips circling upwards, chasing matty's, chasing friction. "just… just need you. now. need you to fuck me, please, please."

"you don't want my mouth?"

"baby, you can - fuck, that feels nice - you can eat me whenever you want, later," you pant, trying as best you can to speak clearly. "tonight, tomorrow morning to wake me up, in the car after the school run…"

the whine that leaves matty's mouth at that is almost enough to trigger an orgasm for you.

"... but right now, i just need to be fucked," you plead. "hard."

your husband kisses his way back up to your lips. "well, if that's what my girl wants, that's what she'll get. flip over for me, darling, and pass me a pillow."

excitement coursing through your veins, you do as asked, giggling a bit deliriously when matty responds with a "good girl" and slides the pillow under your lower stomach. briefly, cruelly, you think of some of your older female friends, the ones who've spent many a coffee morning or night in a cocktail bar bemoaning their now-stagnant sex lives and bitching about the husbands beginning to lose interest in making them feel good; you hope you never turn out like them, never lose the giddiness you still get every time matty makes any effort to make you feel good.

given the way he whines when he pulls your panties down, though, you don't think you're at any risk of turning out like them anytime soon. "jesus christ, babe," matty whispers, almost reverently. "i can't believe how fucking wet you are."

"all for you, baby."

"yeah? that right, sweetheart?" you can hear the smirk in matty's voice, as well as the rustling of fabric, and then you suddenly feel his hands on your hips and him, bare and rock-hard, against your backside. god. "mmm, you feel so fucking perfect, and i'm not even inside you yet. wanna be, though, wanna fuck you so badly. you want that too, darling, don't you?"

your eyes roll further back into your head with every swipe of his cock through your soaking slit. "mhmm."

"words, sweetheart."

"yes," you whine, shuffling around some sort of desperate attempt to get him inside you. "want you to fuck me. please."

"always so polite, perfect girl. alright, babe, i'll fuck you."

a final swipe up - or down, rather - to your clit, and matty's pushing into you slowly. even after all these years of fucking him and nobody else, the initial feeling of him inside you leaves you breathless; you regain it by the time he's bottomed out, though, moaning in harmony with matty as you process just how fucking deep he's gotten.

yeah, you won't last long at all.

you tell matty as much, and he laughs deliriously. "haven't even properly started fucking you yet, and you're about to cum? god, baby, you really did need fucked hard, didn't you? bless."

cheeky bastard. you frown, throwing your head back and arching your spine in an attempt to look your husband in the eye; you don't quite manage, but he giggles and kisses your forehead anyway, before gently pushing your head back down so he can whisper in your ear as he fucks you slowly. "but you know what, sweetheart? i'm not going to last either; you feel too fucking good for me to be able to control myself."

"so don't," you whimper, matty's words going straight to both your ego and your cunt. "make me feel it."

"shit," matty groans, the combination of your demand and your increased wetness getting to him. "are you sure, darling?"

"please."

a kiss to your bare shoulder. "alright. you asked for it."

no sooner than the words have left matty's mouth, he pulls almost completely out of you and slams back in hard, eliciting a broken wail from your lips. you get a second of reprieve to get used to the feeling, and then it happens again, and again, until matty's established a rhythm and tempo he's happy with. and when he's hitting your sweet spot with almost every thrust, and the force of him is making your clit brush against the pillow below you every time he moves, you're happy, too. matty knows this, although he can't see your face - the way you're clenching like a vice around him and stuttering out broken moans of his name is indication enough of your ecstasy.

a particularly hard thrust makes you cry out, the sound even louder than the constant slapping of skin against skin as matty drives his hips into your own. matty winces at your noise, quickly moving one of his hands from your waist to cover your mouth and leaning forward to talk to you. "know it's difficult, sweet girl," he coos, sweet tone at total odds with the way he's fucking you. "but you need to stay a bit quieter for me. can you do that?"

you nod enthusiastically against his hand, but continue to moan against his skin; it takes matty a second to break through the sex haze clouding his brain and work out what you're saying, but he manages to discern that you're just repeatedly whining "please". well, whining is the wrong word - it's more like begging. 

"what are you asking for, sweetheart?" matty breathes, moving his hand from your mouth to tenderly brush your hair behind your ear. the gesture seems sweet enough, but it's actually very calculated of him; matty knows fine well that the combination of sweetness and roughness during sex is a shortcut to getting you off.

which, as it turns out, is exactly what you want from him. "please, please, baby," you moan - at a more appropriate volume for the time of day, just as matty had asked. "please make me cum. want to cum. want you to cum, fucking fill me up."

christ. how could he ever deny such a request, from the woman he loves? matty takes a deep breath, muttering a quiet "oh fuck" as he exhales. "whatever you want, darling. tell me when you're close, yeah?"

"mhmm. i love you."

matty smiles tiredly. "i love you too, sweetheart. put your arms behind your back for me, hold on to me."

you oblige, crossing your wrists just above your tailbone; matty holds them for leverage as he fucks you with the last of his energy. he'd keep going for you as long as you needed him to, he thinks, just out of sheer need to make you feel good, but he's admittedly glad when your legs begin to shake under his own, a telltale sign that your orgasm's approaching.

"matty, baby," you whimper. one of your hands is beginning to tremble, so he holds it instead of your wrist as he feels his own climax begin. "m'gonna cum."

"hold it just a second longer for me, sweetheart," comes the reply through gritted teeth. "and we can cum together. you'd like that, wouldn't you, getting off while i fill you up?"

"fuck, yes," you clench tighter around matty as you speak, determined to delay your release until he's ready. "i'll hold it."

"that's my good girl."

the praise nearly tips you over the edge, and you have to tighten every possible muscle in order to stay on the precipice. thankfully, though, you being so tight around matty is the thing that rips the orgasm from him; his thrusts slow and fall out of rhythm as the pleasure races through his nervous system, and he groans (incredibly sexily). "you're close, aren't you, darling? cum for me, my girl, let go."

you don't even have time to respond verbally before your body responds to your husband's instruction; it's as if your brain has shut down everything except its pleasure centre and thoughts of matty. you cum, and you cum hard, limbs convulsing and face firmly planted in a pillow to muffle your screams of ecstasy. matty follows suit immediately, groaning your name and holding his hips flush against yours as he empties probably every last drop of cum in his body inside your own.

he collapses on top of you once he's done, sweaty bodies sticking together. usually, that would ick at least one of you out, but you welcome the extra body heat on this chilly october morning. that, and it's nice to be as close as possible to matty after you've fucked, you think. matty seems to think that too, judging by the way he's contentedly stroking your hair and humming to himself.

"s'that song?" you ask.

matty huffs out a laugh. "just something i thought of just now."

"is it about me? and what we just did?"

"definitely about you, babe," matty kisses your shoulder. "about the sex? i don't know yet. but it was definitely good enough to warrant a song or two about it."

"mmm, yeah," you smile. "thank you. i love you."

"i love you too. and thank you, darling, you were so good for me. d'you fancy a bath? we've still got… roughly 45 minutes until the girls will be up."

"too tired. wanna stay like this, please."

"sweetheart, i came in you," matty says. you can hear the pride in his voice. what a boy. "it'll ruin the sheets when it drips out."

"s'fine," you absent-mindedly wave. "need to wash the girls' sheets anyway. might as well do ours, too. set a good example and all."

matty laughs, a proper chuckle. you turn around as best you can to look at him. "what?"

matty turns when he hears your half-shuffling footsteps, face twisting into a sleepy smile that splinters your heart. he opens his arms as you near him, pulling you into a washing powder-scented hug and resting his lips on your hair. "hi, darlin'."

"hi," you murmur into his sweatshirt. "happy album day."

"thanks," you feel matty's cheeks twitch into a smile against your head. "feels quite surreal, honestly. we have an album out. mad."

you caress the space between his shoulder blades. "i can imagine - it's insane for me to even think that my best friend in the world has an album out. m'so proud of you though, babe."

"couldn't have done it without you, sweetheart. oh, that reminds me..."

matty breaks the hug - and, in the process, your heart - to reach for one of the CDs piled haphazardly between the radio and the kettle. he hands you one with an all too familiar cover art, accompanying his "here" with a grin.

"matty, i said i would buy it!" you protest. "i want to be a part of getting you a number one."

"that's cute, babe, but nah," matty folds his arms and smirks. "there wouldn't be an album without you, because there wouldn't be EPs without you and your room at uni. so, the boys and i figured that you were the perfect person to get the first album CD actually made."

your eyes fill with tears at the ridiculously sweet, ridiculously too generous gesture. "wait, really?"

"i mean, it was my idea, of course," matty winks, which earns him a shove on the arm. "but yeah, that's the very first 1975 album disc. open it, darlin', look at the lyric booklet."

sniffling, you do as requested; your sniffles turn to full-blown sobs as you take in the "to our favourite girl. thanks for the love (and the pints) xx" dedication written on the first page, sobs which only increase in volume as you take in the lyrics, handwritten by matty rather than typed.

you gently place the CD and booklet back on the counter, and pull your sweetly-smiling best friend into a teary hug. "thank you, sweetheart. i feel very special."

"you are," matty replies, tenderly stroking the back of your head. "you're the most special, to me."

your heart jolts at that, and you squeeze matty even tighter, pull him even closer to you. but it's not close enough to satisfy you, it never is - nothing short of his skin cells grafting to yours and consuming them would stop your heart and brain and nervous system aching for him.

well, a kiss would probably do it, but that's far less likely to happen.

the painfully tender moment is interrupted by matty's back pocket buzzing, which provides a blissful relief from the thoughts about kissing your best friend that were beginning to awake from their dormancy. alas, the relief is short-lived - matty sighs in your ear, and murmurs "will you get that for me, sweetheart? don't wanna let go of you."

with a hopefully-unnoticeable gulp, you slide your hand down matty's back and into his pocket to pull out his phone. you squint at the caller ID. "s'george."

"should probably speak to him, i s'pose," matty says, planting a final (and devastating) kiss to your head before letting go of you and taking his phone. "are you gonna go and listen to the album while you get ready for the party later?"

you grin sheepishly. "already bought and listened to it on itunes."

"you're incorrigible. but i love you."

"ooh, big word! i love you too," you smile. "and tell george i love him too, and i can't wait to celebrate with you all later."

matty winks. "will do, darlin'."

you wink back and grab your CD, turning on your heel and wandering to your bedroom to begin the arduous process of getting ready for the album release dinner and subsequent party. it goes by quicker than usual, though, soundtracked by the boys, punctuated by congratulatory texts to and from ross and george and a half-hour congratulatory phone call with adam, and powered by the excitement of knowing you can be extra affectionate with matty today and it won't be weird.

it goes by so quickly, in fact, that you're almost completely finished your makeup when matty peers round your slightly-open door. "hey babe, would you mind- oh, wow, you look gorgeous!"

it's almost embarrassing how warm your cheeks get at that simple statement. you swivel to face your flatmate, smiling bashfully. "thanks, sweetheart. i was a bit worried the eye makeup was too much for dinner, but i've committed to it now, i s'pose."

"no, it's perfect," matty says softly, coming into the room and perching on the end of your bed. you're perfect, he wishes he could add - it's cliché, but god, is it true. "i love it."

your cheeks burn, and lift of their own accord. "i'm glad."

matty smiles back just as widely as you. there's a pleasant silence for a moment, reluctantly broken by you before matty forgets his train of thought. "did you want to ask me something, babe?"

"oh, shit, yeah," matty nods. "would you mind - if you have the time, that is - drying my hair for me? can never get it to sit right. but like it's cool if not, i can do it myself, i just like it more when it's you doing it and-"

"matty," you interject, before he talks himself unconscious. "of course i will. just let me do my lipstick first, yeah? then i'm all yours."

all his. christ, what he wouldn't give. "take your time, darlin'. thanks a lot."

"s'no problem," you say, turning back to your dressing table and rifling through a pile of lipsticks. matty smiles as you open a few in turn, furrowing your brow as you wordlessly narrow down your colour options; the smile is wiped clean off his face when you drop your jaw and swipe a dark pink over your lips, forming them into an O as you make sure the lipstick is applied perfectly. fuck. your mouth.

(the lyric from talk! is most definitely about you, but he'll never tell.)

after the most agonising minute of matty's life, you turn around to face him. "ok, i'm finished making myself pretty. your turn, babe."

"you're always pretty," matty says, kissing the top of your head as you stand up to let him sit in the chair; he finger guns towards his reflection as he does. "and so am i."

you roll your eyes. "maybe it's best if the album doesn't go to number one, actually. your head might explode, healy."

"best make sure my hair looks good then, babe."

"when has it not, when i've styled it? it's me you're talking to, not george."

"fair point."

with a wink to him through the mirror, you rake one hand through matty's hair and aim the hairdryer at it with the other. he closes his eyes, sinking back into the plush seat, enjoying the soothing combination of warm air and your gentle touch - your nails lightly scratch his scalp the way you know he loves, and he hums contentedly. fuck the dinner, fuck the party, fuck celebrating the album; matty would be happy just to stay like this forever with you.

you'd be happy with that too, to be honest.

matty slowly opens his eyes as you put down the hairdryer and finish shaping his hair with your hands. you crouch to get the back looking just so, then rest your chin on his shoulder and smile at him through the mirror. "beautiful boy."

tilting his head so it rests on yours, matty beams at you through the mirror. "thanks, sweetheart. we do look quite hot, don't we? we should memorialise it, i think."

"now? we're not even dressed for tonight yet," you say, as matty pulls his phone from his pocket and opens the camera.

"trust me, babe, this is just the first of many pictures i intend to take to document this very important day. and the first of many pictures i intend to take of you, looking all hot and glamorous."

"charmer. alright, take the pic."

"alright, darlin'."

*

2023

when you enter the kitchen, the déja vu of a moment from a decade ago practically smacks you in the face. never mind that it's a different house, with a different kitchen and a different floor (tiled, not lino, but still cold under socked feet).

just as he was exactly ten years ago to the day, albeit with different hair, matty is staring at something pinned between two shitty manchester magnets on the fridge (also different - a smeg you were embarrassingly excited about buying when you and matty moved here). rather than the calendar from before, though, it's the picture the two of you took while you were getting ready to celebrate the album release.

again, matty turns to smile at you as you near him - well, as best he can with a toddler clinging to his leg and a 7 month-old baby in his arms. you can see in his eyes that the déja vu is getting to him as well. that, and the way his smile widens as he says "hi, sweetheart".

"hi. happy ten years of your first album," you grin, moving closer to kiss him quickly. dylan lets go of her dad's leg and raises her arms towards you; when you pick her up and kiss her cheek, she giggles and hides her face in your neck. smiling, you do the same to elena, who beams mostly toothlessly at you in response. "and hello to you too, my babies! were you good for daddy while mummy was at work?"

soft curls tickling your neck tells you that dylan is nodding, an action matty copies enthusiastically. "they were perfect," he says, booping elena on her tiny nose and making her giggle - your favourite sound on the planet. "they take after their mum, of course."

you roll your eyes. "ever the charmer, healy."

"you know it, healy," matty grins, relishing the chance for acknowledgement of your shared last name, the same way he's done at any opportunity since you took it as your own four years ago. "we were just talking about mummy, weren't we, dyl? how in that photo she thought i was going to be married to somebody else by now, but daddy always knew he wouldn't marry anybody but her."

your heart glows with overwhelming love for matty and his words; it quickly begins to burn with embarrassment at your past utter cluelessness, though. "well, i genuinely didn't think you liked me in that way, the way i liked - like - you."

"silly mummy," dylan giggles, playing with the pendant on your necklace that bears her first initial, as well as those of her father and sister.

you tickle her little tummy, and the giggles increase tenfold. "silly mummy indeed!"

your toddler's giggles fade into little hums, and her tiny face turns placidly serious as she looks at the picture of her parents. "but pretty mummy."

"the prettiest," matty agrees, trying his best to extrapolate elena's tiny fist from one of his curls.

"well, maybe in a few hours, once i'm ready for the party," you say, stepping forward to save your husband's hair from his mini-me's grip. it takes you both a minute, considering you're both operating with only one daughter-less limb, but matty's curls escape mostly unscathed from your baby's possessive grasp. elena might be a matty clone, but she really is your daughter, no doubt about it. "which i really should start working on, considering everyone will be here in... three hours. will you all sit with me while i do my makeup?"

"of course we will," matty nods, holding out his free hand for you to take with your own. "lead the way, wifey."

for the second time that day, although you're sure there will be many more instances of it, there's an overwhelming familiarity to the scene in your bedroom. with the exception of dylan sitting on the vanity, copying you and pretending to put her own makeup on with one of your clean blush brushes, and elena doing tummy time on your bed and babbling away happily, the process is much the same as it was exactly a decade ago - enjoyable, quick, interspersed with excitement and texts and calls from your equally-excited friends.

the soundtrack is also different, although it's still matty singing; instead of the songs about, well, drugs and blowjobs that had scored your pampering in the past, he's doing a medley of disney songs, nursery rhymes, and... "babe, is that britney spears?"

mirroring his youngest daughter and lying on his stomach on the bed, matty glances up, eyes gleeful. "yeah! lena loves it. look - oops, i did it again, i played with your heart, got lost in the game, ooh baby baby."

true enough, elena shrieks with laughter and taps her hands against the duvet in accompaniment to her dad's singing. you laugh too, picking dylan up and moving to sit beside the other half of your family. once you're settled, you scoop elena into your arms and sit her against your knees. "you have such good taste, my girl!"

"mmm, so do i," your husband hums, looking at you with barely-concealed attraction in his dark eyes. "you look gorgeous, darling."

over ten years of matty compliments, and they still shoot straight to your knees and turn them wobbly. you lift your burning cheeks in response. "thanks, sweetheart. you're not too bad yourself."

"you think so? because i was going to ask you about fixing my hair again-"

"i honestly don't think it needs it, babe."

"really? well, in that case," matty reaches back to grab his phone from his back pocket, before rolling to a sitting position and tugging dylan into him. "scootch in, then."

dylan watches her dad open the camera app. "photo now?"

"yes, munchkin."

"but my dress!"

"oh, you're your mother's daughter right enough," matty smiles. "we'll take one picture first, dyl, and then you can go and put your dress on in time for your aunties and uncles and cousins arriving, yeah?"

"ok."

"that's the spirit," matty ruffles his toddler's head, before putting his arm around you. "say cheese!"

after his girls oblige, dylan moves round to talk to her baby sister, while matty opens the picture to see how it turned out; you lean in and rest your chin on his shoulder again so that you can look too. "oh, matty, look how cute we all are!"

"definitely fridge-worthy," matty laughs, kissing your temple. he leans back slightly to look at you, bringing a hand up to lightly caress your hair. "i can't believe it's been ten years. for both the album and the two of us. although they always went hand in hand for me, to be honest. constantly thought about you while i wrote it. and i still constantly think about you now."

you press a quick kiss to matty's lips, wiping away your lipstick stain with your thumb - matty tries to kiss it as you do, which earns him a laugh and a "matthew" from you. "i love you, baby."

but you don't mind being awake in circumstances like these: carrying your healthy (and presumably happy) baby; feeling the nearly-naked and gloriously handsome love of your life cosied up beside you; noticing the morning sun and various faint italian conversations creeping into the room via the patio door, left ajar in the scorching heat of last night. it's an early summer morning on the shores of lake garda, and there's nowhere else you'd rather be right now.

baba, though, would apparently rather you were somewhere else - almost on cue, she settles herself in such a way that your awareness of your own bladder becomes unavoidable. with a whispered "you like being a little bit mean to mummy, don't you? you're lucky i love you so much, my girl", you extract yourself from matty's hold without waking him - a feat you mastered a few weeks into sharing a bed with him post-movie nights in the flat back in the day - and pull yourself out of bed. feeling slightly exposed in your panty-clad state, you shrug on matty's black tank top from yesterday, carelessly tossed on the end of the bed, before wandering to the bathroom.

matty appears in the doorway maybe five minutes later, once you've appeased your daughter (so to speak) and brushed your teeth; he copies the latter act himself, after placing a soft kiss on the top of your head, holding his toothbrush in one hand and you in the other. you take these two minutes of matty preoccupation to ogle him, trailing your eyes down his abs and v-line to the waistband of his boxers, admiring the way his arm muscles flex and contract as he brushes his teeth, and just generally marvelling at the way your husband manages to make the most basic of tasks look so ridiculously attractive.

after matty spits out the last of the toothpaste - the sight of which, whorishly, sends a burst of heat between your legs - he turns to you and pulls you into a sweet, overwhelmingly minty kiss. "morning, my love," he smiles, after breaking the kiss and taking your hands in his. "i take it our girl woke you up?"

the obvious joy in matty's voice when he refers to your daughter makes you smile too. "only a few minutes ago, but yeah, she did - all quiet now, but she was kicking quite enthusiastically."

"really?" matty asks, crouching down so he's eye level with your cotton-covered stomach and sliding a warm hand under the fabric to rest there. "you gonna be a footballer one day, baba? that'd be cool. especially if you played for newcastle like daddy did when he was a kid. but pro. definitely pro."

you scoff. "our daughter in a career where she could be far better at her job than a man but would never get the same recognition as him? i don't want her to be that much like me, babe."

"fair point, sweetheart," matty says as he stands, kissing you on the forehead. "but you should still be proud of your work anyway, even though they gave that stupid dick the case over you. i think you're an incredible lawyer, regardless of the fact you're also a little thief when it comes to my wardrobe."

he looks pointedly at the tank top you're wearing, before smirking at you. you put your hands on your hips and stare back at matty. "it's the bump, isn't it?"

your husband's brow furrows. "what?"

"you used to love me wearing your clothes," you sigh faux-dramatically, sidling past matty back into the bedroom and standing in front of the full-length mirror. "you encouraged it, actually. and now, here i am, pregnant with your baby, and you call me a thief for stealing a top. must be the bump."

matty comes up behind you, snaking his arms around your middle and pressing kisses into your neck. "you know all too fucking well that that's not the case, darlin'."

you're having too much fun with this. you do know matty's arguably never found you sexier than he does right now, but you don't want him to tell you that - you need him to prove it. so you sigh, tilt your head and look at your reflection. "hmmm, i don't know, babe. kinda seems like the bump might be a problem for you."

"right, that's it," matty scoops you up bridal-style and carries you the short walk to the bed, setting you down gently and bringing himself to hover over you. he kisses you deeply, passionately, but languidly, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulls away to murmur against your mouth. "want a repeat of last night, sweetheart, so i can prove to you how much i love your body? yeah? want me to kiss all over those gorgeous tits, that perfect little bump, all down the insides of those fucking thighs of yours, before i eat you out? whatever you want, i'll do it."

interesting. you keep your eyes on matty's adorably eager, turned-on face, watching his eyes roll back ever so slightly when you rake your hand through his hair and tug slightly. "whatever i want? really?"

"if it gets through to you just how fucking hot you look carrying my baby, yeah," matty replies, kissing you again. his face softens as he pulls away, calloused fingers coming up to gently stroke your cheek. "my perfect, perfect wife, mother of my child, love of my life."

"you're so sweet, angel, and i loved how gentle you were with me last night. but," you smile, leaning into matty's hand. "you know what i really want, something that hasn't happened in a little while that i'd love right now?"

"tell me, darlin'."

you lean in to whisper in matty's ear, tugging his hoop earring lightly between your teeth before you do. "want you to fuck me like i'm still your little slut. can you do that for me, matty? please?"

the effect your words have on your husband is instantaneous (and extremely inflating to your ego) - matty's breaths become shallow and shaky, his hips begin to grind into yours, and those beautiful eyes of his flutter shut, presumably as he imagines obliging your request. when they reopen, the pupils are almost totally dilated, out of nothing more than sheer lust for you; they lock onto your own eyes as matty speaks. "that depends... d'you think you've been good enough, sweetheart?"

fuck yes. you look up at matty through your eyelashes, batting your lids a couple of times for good measure, and nod. "m'always good for you."

"even when you're stealing my clothes?" comes the reply, accompanied by a smirk. you smile back just as evilly, and quickly pull the offending tank top off and throw it to the side. "s'not stolen anymore."

for the second time in about a minute, matty's eyes darken with desire for you. "christ, you're so beautiful," he moans, before crashing his lips onto yours and his tongue into your mouth. "alright, darlin', i'll fuck you like the good little slut i know you really are. my good little slut."

"mmm, always, always for you," you smile against matty's lips, before meeting them with your own for another makeout. "thank you."

"you're welcome, angel. now," your husband's face turns slightly more serious. "how do you want to go about this? need to make sure you feel good before i can make you feel even better, yeah?"

nodding, you reach across to matty's side of the bed, grabbing one of the big silk-covered pillows - anticipating what you're about to do, matty takes it from you, quickly sliding it under your lower back and tailbone as you lift your hips. caressing them lightly, matty scans your face for any sign of discomfort. "you good?"

"perfect."

"too fucking right you are, babe," matty grins, kissing you passionately yet again. he bites your lower lip - which pulls a moan from within your chest - before releasing it slowly, dragging the soft cells between his teeth. "and now it's time for the fun bit."

matty's mouth is on your neck before you can reply, the feeling of his lips against your sweet spot turning your words to whines; they're closely followed by teeth and tongue and back to lips, as your husband - apparently not content with just decorating your body with the baby bump - adorns your neck with a hickey. as he begins to trail these scarlet marks of affection down the column of your throat, matty's hands come up to your tits, squeezing the sensitive swollen flesh and rolling and pinching your nipples between calloused fingers.

by the time matty's mouth replaces his fingers, alternating between each tit, you're soaked through your silky underwear. you tell him as much through a series of breathy moans, in the hope that he'll cease his ministrations on your tits and settle himself between your soft thighs, but it's in vain. matty simply continues to mouth his way down your body, kissing down your sternum and all over your bump (which, admittedly, you do find very sweet even in your horny state); only once he's done this does he pay any mind to the dark green fabric covering the place you want him most.

"fuck, sweetheart," matty sighs, rubbing your soft thighs and teasing his fingertips along the waistband of your underwear. "can see how fucking wet you are already. is it all for me, angel? tell me."

you nod furiously. "all for you, always all for you."

"good girl," matty smiles, placing a kiss to your inner thigh before peeling your panties down, throwing them somewhere in the sunlight-dappled room. he reattaches his lips to your thigh, leaving another hickey and you moaning his name, while his index finger glides up your slit to collect some of your wetness - suddenly, matty's leaning over you, bringing the same finger to your lips. "taste yourself for me, darlin'."

fuck. without breaking eye contact with your husband, you take his finger into your mouth, moaning at the tang of your own arousal on your tongue, hollowing your cheeks around the digit and swirling your tongue across the tip, before releasing matty's finger with a pop. you smile radiantly up at the love of your life, watching you with lust-heavy eyes, and you speak. "yummy."

"jesus christ, you're such a slut. i fucking love it," matty laughs in disbelief, before kissing you again. as he does, the finger that was just in your mouth makes its way between your legs again, ghosting over your clit before teasing your entrance. "and i love fucking you. can i, now, with my fingers?"

"please, please."

"so polite, even when you're so fucking desperate for me. alright, sweetheart, i'll give you what you want."

with that, matty settles himself between your thighs, and - without warning - thrusts two fingers into you, moving them at a rapid pace. you whine at the sudden pleasure coursing through your body, clenching around matty's fingers and clawing at the bedsheets beneath you. "fuck, please don't stop, want you to make me cum."

matty lets out a huff of laughter, eyes fixated on the fingers he's repeatedly ramming and curling inside you. "oh, you wanna cum, do you? that all you want?"

whimpering out a series of "no"s, you shake your head - although, you're not sure if your husband will see the motion over the writhing of your hips and subsequent movement of the bump. "want your tongue on my clit, too."

"beg for it, then."

jesus christ.

you do as you're told, though, aching for matty to eat you out like you know he's aching to do. "god, fuck... please, baby, please - oh, holy fuck - please, need you to go down on me, need your mouth on my clit, need it to make me cum- oh, yes!"

just as impatient as you, matty starts to suck on your clit before you've even finished your wanton pleas, his fingers still pounding into you. he moans into you at the taste, the hum reverberating through your body and bringing you closer to your quickly approaching orgasm, then flicks your clit with the tip of his tongue - deft, rhythmic strokes you soon recognise as letters, your husband spelling out his name on the most intimate part of your body. whether it's because of your realisation or the motion itself, you don't know, but you immediately feel the white-hot pleasure in your lower body begin to grow rapidly and make your legs jerk involuntarily. "shit, matty, m'close, m'so fucking close. can i cum? please?"

matty pulls his mouth from you to speak; his left hand replaces it on your clit, while his right continues thrusting into you. he looks like sex itself, cheeks red and glistening with your wetness, dark eyes hungry. "do it."

you don't need much more encouragement - even without your husband's hands deftly working on your core, the sheer sight of him and the rasp of his command could tip you over the edge into bliss. with a cry of his name, your body goes rigid and then shakes uncontrollably as your orgasm hits, matty moaning in harmony with you as he feels you clench and then cum on his fingers. he pulls them out of you and into his mouth, eyes closing in ecstasy as he does; when they reopen, they flick to make contact with yours in a wink. then, just as the aftershocks of your climax are beginning to peter out, matty ducks his head back down to your centre and licks into your entrance, turning the epicurean geiger counter in your body back up to an eleven in one fell swoop.

you gasp at the sensitivity, reaching down as best you can to grab a handful of greying curls, but your efforts are futile; matty locks his arms around your thighs in a vice grip and continues to essentially make out with your cunt, nose bumping beautifully against your clit as he tongue-fucks you to another rapidly approaching orgasm. because you're still recovering from the first one, this climax builds so quickly within you that you don't even have time to warn matty - he knows you're about to cum, though, from the way your legs go from shaking to clamping around his head (something he's told you on more than one occasion that he absolutely loves) and your moans become stuttered, shallower, sexier. so he keeps his motions up, only stopping once he feels your wetness soak his face and hears you scream his name, your legs loosening and trembling slightly on the silky sheets.

after wiping his mouth on the back of his hand and stretching his slightly-sore jaw, matty pulls himself up from between your legs and rests on one arm beside you, leaning over to kiss you deeply. "my good girl. how are you feeling? are you still comfy? do you need a little break?"

panting, you beam up at your husband, matching his lovestruck gaze with your own. "i'm feeling like i want you to fuck me now."

matty laughs, kissing your nose. "you're insatiable, missus."

"and you love it."

"i really do," matty smiles, shifting to hover on his knees above you. "position still good for you?"

"yeah, darlin'," you say, making a little kissy face at matty - he makes one in return, pressing his lips to yours in a little peck - and bringing your hands to pull down the waistband of his boxers; matty quickly takes over, yanking them off and leaving you both naked. "now fuck me hard, please."

"mmm, alright," matty smirks, running the head of his hard cock up and down your folds and teasing it at your entrance. "but remember - you asked for it."

his cock is inside you as soon as he finishes talking, both of you groaning as matty bottoms out - yours quickly turns to a whine as he begins to thrust into you, deep, hard strokes that have your eyes rolling back into your head. the sight of you so fucked out - tits bouncing with every thrust, hands clinging to the metal bars of the headboard, mouth agape and jaw quivering - makes matty moan too. "fuck, look at you, taking my cock so perfectly like the good little slut you are. you were fucking made for me, weren't you?"

you can't even answer, too caught up in how good your husband fucking you feels to remember how to talk. matty, who never misses an opportunity to be ever so slightly sadistic, isn't letting you get away with staying wordless. "answer me, baby."

"mhmm," you manage to croak out, whimpering as a particular thrust hits a particularly good spot inside you. "yours."

"gonna prove it and cum for me again, angel?" matty pants, grabbing your ankles and holding your legs in the air for leverage so he can continue to hit that one perfect spot inside you. "gonna cum all over my cock, and make me cum too? make me fill you up again?"

whining again, you nod furiously. the two previous climaxes have loosened your body up so much that you can feel your third hurtling towards you already - you just need matty to keep up his thrusts for a tiny little bit longer. "don't stop, please, keep fucking me. m'almost there."

"yeah? me too, sweetheart," matty breathes, his thrusts continuing, but getting slightly shallower. "fuck, i'm close. you wanna cum together?"

"please."

"ok, darlin', whatever you want," your husband smiles dazedly. leaning forward slightly again, his right hand leaves its place on your ankle to take up its original residence on your clit, circling in time with the thrusts. "let go for me, whenever you're ready. c'mon, sweetheart, come on my cock."

you're not sure what triggers it - matty's words, his hand on your clit, his relentless fucking, the way he looks at you like you hung the moon, or a combination of everything - but, as if on cue, your third orgasm of the morning hits you. and it hits hard, sending your eyes and head back and your back arching off the bed in sheer pleasure; so hard, in fact, that it triggers matty's orgasm, signified by a guttural cry of your name and a feeling of pure warmth in your core as he finishes inside you.

again, your husband pulls out of you quickly and licks a flat stripe up your core. this time, though, he's back hovering over you within seconds, tapping your lips with two fingers. instinctively, you open your mouth, and matty spits the mixture of your respective releases onto your tongue; you swallow obligingly without comment nor question, earning you a radiant smile, an affectionate "slut", and a soft, lazy kiss.

you pull away reluctantly from matty's lips, bringing a hand to caress his slightly stubbly jaw. "thank you. i love you."

"i love you too, darlin'," matty nuzzles into your hand cutely, a total contrast to the way he was fucking you mere minutes ago. "what a way to start the morning, yeah? proper workout, that."

"well, i did need a way to work off all that extra pasta the little nonnas in the restaurants keep force-feeding me," you giggle. "'for the bambino' my arse. they're just trying to get us not to leave!"

"i think i could stay here, you know," matty ponders, absentmindedly smoothing your hair. "you, me, baba, in this town, in this bed, just snuggling our days away."

"that sounds dreamy."

"yeah," matty sighs, pecking your lips again. "we don't have plans until dinner tonight - wanna practice staying here and snuggling for a few hours?"

"nah."

"what? why?"

"because," you sigh, rubbing your stomach. "baba's woken up and she'd decided it's time for me to piss again."

matty snorts. "impeccable timing. i think she gets that from me. remember that time i-"

"matty, i love you, i really do, but i do need you to shut up and help me to the bathroom now, please."

“well,” matty’s face - the bit you can see between his hair and scarf and hood and winter coat, that is - contorts into a manic grin. “in addition to buying the essentials, plus some treats, i got this.”

he steps back out into the stairway and returns a second later with a long piece of grey plastic in hand, curved upwards and string attached at one end. you blink, then laugh as you realise what matty means. “you pulled it all home on a sled? amazing.”

“i thought so too! the stairs were a challenge, yeah, but knowing my beautiful girlfriend was waiting for me at the top of them was enough to get me through it,” matty leans the sled against the wall, kicks the front door closed, and turns to kiss you.

it doesn't last long, though - out of habit, he brings his hands up to hold your face, and you jump away in shock at their coldness as soon as they make contact with your skin. “oh, jesus christ! matty! you did that on purpose, you shit.”

“no i didn't!” your boyfriend protests through giggles. “m'sorry, sweetheart. just force of habit. and it might not be snowing right now, but it's really fucking cold out there, you know.”

“i know, baby,” you loop your arms around his neck - covered by your scarf, you notice - and kiss his cold nose. matty hums happily when you do. “thank you for braving it. means we can just stay in until the snow clears, now,” you unbutton his coat. “and they're saying on the news that it might be days before that happens.”

matty kisses you again, while he shrugs his coat off and blindly flails behind him to hang it on the back of the door. “i mean, i hate that it's happening over christmas - did you speak to your mum, by the way?” he murmurs against your lips.

“yeah. and yours.”

“good, good. but missing christmas at home aside,” he kisses you again to punctuate the sentence. “i've had dreams about the two of us spending days alone together, no interruptions, no real obligations. can't fucking wait, to be honest, darlin’.”

“oh, you've had dreams, have you?” you tease.

“yeah,” your boyfriend squeezes your bum. “want me to show you what we were doing in them?”

“hmmm… nah, we should really get this shopping away,” you kiss matty’s forehead and wriggle out of his grasp, smirking.

he pouts. “but it would warm me up, sweetheart.”

“well, there's a brew on the console table you can have for that,” you nod towards it, picking up several shopping bags in each hand and beginning the walk to the kitchen. a thought pops into your head, and you turn back to matty (already drinking the tea) with a grin. “and if you're still chilly after we've put the shopping away, we can have a shower, if you'd like?”

matty picks up the last of the shopping with his free hand, wandering over to you and softly kissing you. “i would like that a lot, darlin’. thank you.”

“s'alright,” you step into the kitchen and dump the bags on the counter. “and, while we're here, we should probably figure out what we're going to do for dinner tomorrow. it's christmas, after all.”

matty waves nonchalantly. “already sorted it.”

your eyes narrow. “what d'you mean?”

“well, look in here,” he tugs you close to him by the waist, resting his head on your shoulder while you peer inside the bag he just laid down.

an excited giggle leaves your lips, and you turn to kiss matty on the cheek. “m&s christmas dinner stuff? baby, you're spoiling me.”

matty laughs, pulling the turkey joint and gravy out and putting them in the fridge. “if you think this is you being spoilt, my love, you’re going to freak the fuck out tomorrow.”

your eyes widen, and you turn to look at him. “you better not have gone overboard, matthew. but,” you wrap your arms around his neck again. “i'm quite excited for us to exchange presents. first christmas as boyfriend and girlfriend, and all.”

“so am i, sweetheart,” matty smiles, leaning in to quickly kiss you. his face falls, though, as he absentmindedly tucks a stray bit of your hair behind your ear. “feel a bit weird about the fact we're not going back to see our families, though.”

“baby, the weather, there aren't any trains running.”

“i know, i know,” your boyfriend sighs - he smiles a little bit when you run your fingers through his hair, though. “s'just… i've never had a christmas down south. and louis hasn't had one without me there, ever. can't believe i won't get to see him this year.”

“oh, my love,” you hug him as tightly as you can, gently massaging little circles into his scalp the way you know calms him down. matty hugs you back just as tightly, burrowing his head into your neck. “we'll facetime everyone tomorrow, yeah? and as soon as the trains are running, we'll go home and force our mothers to make us christmas dinners. it'll be bangin’.”

matty giggles into your skin. “is your mum still going round to my mum's for dinner tomorrow?”

“yeah. they're both looking forward to it. s'the first thing your mum said to me actually, when i told her we weren't going to make it.”

“really?”

“really.”

your boyfriend smiles. “i feel like i should be offended that she's more concerned about your mum than she is about us, but it's actually really cute.”

“i know,” you kiss his nose. “they love each other.”

“yeah. and i love you,” matty pecks your lips. “so as much as it's shite we can't go home and see everyone, tomorrow will be a good day.”

“exactly. i love you too,” you kiss him back, before catching sight of a pack of bailey's-filled profiteroles in one of the bags and grabbing them in delight. “even more so because you bought us these.”

“what can i say?” matty kisses the back of your neck when you turn to put the profiteroles in the fridge. “i know my girl.”

“i love it when you call me that.”

“yeah?” you can hear the smirk in your boyfriend's voice, and then you feel it against the crook of your neck as his lips meet it, over and over in between his soft murmurs. “my girl, my girl, my girl.”

“fuck,” you tilt your head even further to give him more access, desperate to keep him kissing you. “babe, baby - is everything perishable away?”

without breaking his kisses for too long, matty scans the bags. “yeah. why?”

you turn, moving his hands to rest on your waist - deliberately hooking his thumbs into the bands of both your leggings and your underwear - and leaning up to kiss him passionately. “just quite in the mood for a shower, s'all.”

matty's face breaks into a shit-eating grin. “why? cos you're so dirty?”

“i was thinking more along the lines of ‘because i want you to unwrap me like an early christmas gift’, but,” you take his bottom lip between your teeth and release it, slow as dripping honey. “if you want me to be dirty, baby, i can do that.”

“christ,” matty whines, breath shaky, then beams. “christmas really has come early for me.”

you giggle breathily. “will you make me do the same?”

“‘course. season of giving, remember?” matty beams, kissing you again; when he pulls away, his eyes are tender. “but, being serious for a second - i really think we're gonna have a good day tomorrow.”

“of course we will,” you smile back at him. “i've got you, several really good bottles of wine, home alone 1 & 2 on dvd, and a stack of bailey's profiteroles - how could it not be a good day?”

your boyfriend laughs, that joyous cackle you're so enamoured with. “i really, really love you.”

“it's reciprocated,” you kiss him, yet again, then smile your best fuck me smile. “now - grab a towel, baby, and we can start celebrations early.”

you begin to stir in your sleep, limbs shifting and head rolling back as you awaken. matty eases you through it by rubbing small circles into your bare back, which makes your eyes flutter open slowly. the butterflies in his stomach begin to flutter in parallel - god, he loves you so much. you smile sleepily at him, before your eyes widen in alarm and you exclaim. "FUCK! you weren't supposed to be awake first!"

matty's brow furrows in confusion. "and good morning to you too, sweetheart?"

"sorry," your face softens into a sheepish smile that melts matty's heart. "i just... i wanted to be up before you, so i could make breakfast and surprise you with it. happy birthday, baby."

christ. he could cry at how sweet you are, but he just pulls you close and kisses your forehead instead. "fuck, i love you so much."

"so you're not in a mard because i haven't made you pancakes?" you giggle, as matty begins pressing little kisses all over your face, your bare chests pressed together. "i love you too, by the way, even if i did wake up late on your birthday. i swear i have the rest of the day planned out nicely, though - we'll meet your mum for lunch and then see the boys for a drink then go for dinner and i've booked this hotel in town for tonight that i really think you're gonna li-"

"-baby, baby, it's alright," matty interjects, before you talk yourself back into unconsciousness. "just relax, yeah? s'just another day. no point getting yourself all worked up about it."

your shoulders move forward like you're deflating. "but it's not just another day, matty. it's your birthday, and i'm your girlfriend now," you murmur into his chest. "just wanted today to be special for you, and s'all thrown off now."

you sound so sad about the whole thing that matty's heart aches. weirdly, though, it continues to flutter at the inherent tenderness of how much you love him, to want to make his birthday such a lovely day. "darlin', it'll be special anyway," matty says, tilting your chin up so he can look at you properly. "how could it not be? i'm spending it with you, love of my life, girl of my dreams."

"who couldn't even wake up on time to bring you surprise pancakes in bed," you mutter petulantly, looking away from your boyfriend.

matty's undeterred by your annoyance, though; he begins to press kisses down your face and jaw and onto your neck, long, sensual kisses that involve swipes of his tongue across the spot he knows makes you go loopy. when you begin to moan, despite yourself, matty gently rolls you onto your back and continues to kiss down your body, your moans continuing as background music to his actions, stopping when he reaches the tops of your thighs. "i can think of something i'd much prefer to eat for my birthday breakfast than pancakes. can i, angel?"

he gets it as soon as he enters the kitchen, though; the french press in your hand - and the grumpiness on your pretty, sleepy face - reminds him of everything he needs to know. it also almost manages to stop matty from missing the fact you’re wearing his glassjaw hoodie, a pair of fluffy socks, and very little else. almost. “ah, fuck.”

“indeed,” you say, putting the cafetiere on the counter and frowning (quite adorably, to be honest) at your boyfriend. “actually, that was my exact phrasing when i came in here for a coffee, only to find that the grounds from the last cup hadn't been emptied.”

“m'sorry, baby,” matty moves to hug you.

you, however, have other ideas, and put your arm out to keep him back. “nope! no chance! absolutely not! you can't boyfriend your way out of this one, healy, this is a flatmate issue.”

matty sighs, but he can't exactly argue - the rules on emptying the coffee grounds have been finite since you moved in, the only way to ensure two caffeine-dependent people could cohabit in relative peace. “you're right. i really am sorry, darlin - let me clean it out now, and i'll make you a coffee, yeah?”

“thank you,” your face softens, into the cheeky smirk that never fails to make matty's heart feel funny. “would you make me a bit of toast, too, while you're at it?”

“it'll cost you a kiss, that one.”

“s'pose i could fork out for that,” you wrap your arms around matty's neck, hands sliding home into his hair to pull him down for a kiss. he dips you as you make out, like the two of you are lovers in an old hollywood romance film, and you giggle against his lips as he gently pulls you back to stand. “that was fun!”

“i was kinda scared i'd drop you, i won't lie.”

you laugh, ruffling matty's hair before taking a seat at the breakfast bar. “i would've dragged you with me if you had.”

“i'd expect nothing less,” he smiles, rinsing the coffee grounds from the press and holding it up to the light to check its cleanliness, before popping two slices of bread in the toaster. “what d'you want on your toast, by the way, babe?”

“hmm,” you tilt your head. “do we still have nutella?”

matty squints as he wracks his brain, then rummages around in one of the cupboards. “aha!” he emerges triumphant, almost-empty jar in hand. “enough for toast. but i'll need to get more before the weekend.”

“why? you don't even like it that much.”

“well, what else am i going to put on your valentine’s breakfast pancakes?”

you beam. “am i getting breakfast in bed?”

“course you are,” matty runs over to kiss your nose. “you're getting spoiled, sweetheart.”

“so are you. i was gonna keep it a surprise, but…” you pause dramatically. “i bought new lingerie.”

he drops the butter knife in shock. it hits the countertop with a clatter, and his head almost follows suit. “fuck,” he croaks out. “what colour?”

“dark red. your favourite,” you smile. “i look really sexy in it.”

“i bet you do, baby,” matty sighs happily, pouring coffee into your favourite mug. “can't wait to get into that hotel room and take it off you.”

“me either. and thank you for organising all that, my love. m’excited,” you smile, leaning up to kiss matty as he brings your breakfast over. “thank you for this, too. love you.”

“love you,” he kisses you again. “bring it to the living room? wanna cuddle.”

you nod, picking up your mug and plate and following matty through. he settles on the sofa first, arranging the blankets draped over it and taking your plate from you as you snuggle into his arms. with a kiss to your head, he flicks the tv on, and the two of you sit in contented silence for a little while - with the exception of you crunching your toast - watching animal park. 

matty nudges you when the camera zooms in on a pair of lions curled up together on a rock. “us.”

“really?” you snort, putting your plate on the coffee table. “you think we're lions?”

“yeah. you're the brains behind everything, and i just chill out and have really cool hair.”

you laugh, bringing his hand to your lips and kissing it. “you're an idiot, healy.”

“but i'm your idiot. and i'm right,” matty looks down at you, grinning. “and you've got a little bit of nutella on your lip. here, let me,” he leans down and kisses it away. “there.”

“thanks, lover,” you stretch, snuggling back into your boyfriend with a sigh. “the lions are boring me a bit now, though. what else is on?”

“hmm, let's see,” matty clicks through channels, watching each for a couple of seconds before continuing to search - only when a familiar shot of a girl curled up in a chair reading the bell jar appears does he stop. “oh! babe, look! 10 things!”

“aww, i love this film,” you curl up even further into him, playing with the neck of his t-shirt. “remember when we watched this together in my room?”

matty's voice is quiet when he answers, but you can hear him smile. “thought about it every day since we did, darlin.”

he grins bashfully when you turn to look at him, open-mouthed. you smile, too, so sweetly that it hurts his heart. “same. it was all i ever wanted, to be so intimate like that with you,” you reach up to stroke his face. “best feeling in the world, knowing i get to do it for real now.”

all matty can do is softly hold your face and kiss you, until he runs out of breath and has to pull away from your chocolate-flavoured lips; even then, though, he keeps his hands on your jaw, and murmurs against your lips. “my dream girl. m'so in love with you.”

“i love you so much,” you whisper. “d'you wanna keep watching this, then?”

“course. rite of passage, innit?” your boyfriend grins, tugging you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around you. you turn to kiss him softly once more, then rest your head against his chest and look at the screen. 

the time passes a lot like it did the last time you and matty did this, but instead of mutual pining and an undercurrent of sadness knowing you weren't really together, it's just completely… lovely. you press kisses to each other's heads and hands and lips, and just bask uninterrupted in the love evident between the two of you in the room. aside from the kisses, you don't even move.

that is, until the scene matty knows is your favourite begins. he grins, shifting you slightly further up on his lap so he can look at you properly, and begins to sing into your ear along with heath ledger onscreen. “you're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you…”

your cheeks lift into a smile, and matty can practically feel the heat radiating off them. but still, you keep your eyes on the tv, the only proper acknowledgement of matty's singing being the way you softly squeeze his thigh.

“... you'd be like heaven to touch, i wanna hold you so much,” he continues, resting his head against yours and smiling when you giggle, then taking your hand. “at long last love has arrived, and i thank god i'm alive,” he moves his hand up to gently turn your head, singing the last bit to your adorably flustered smiling face. “you're just too good to be true, can't take my eyes off of you.”

you laugh joyously when he stops singing - the best sound matty thinks he's ever heard - and pull him into a kiss. “you're serenading me?!”

“you asked me to, first time we watched this,” matty smiles warmly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “and i promised you i would.”

“i did?” your brow furrows so cutely. “you did?”

“just as you fell asleep. therefore,” he grins, taking a deep breath before literally belting. “i love you, baby, and if it's quite alright i need you, baby, to warm the lonely nights. i love you, baby - trust in me when i say…”

you beam, wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying as you join in the song. “oh, pretty baby, don’t bring me down, i pray,” the two of you giggle as you sing, and matty's never been so in love in his life. “oh, pretty baby, now that i've found you, stay, and let me love you, baby, let me love you.”

as your voices fade out, matty leans forward and kisses you chastely; he beams and caresses your cheek when he pulls back. “thank you for letting me keep my promise. and for singing with me - that was lovely. should get you on the next album.”

“no, i think i'm content with just singing to you at home,” you smile, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. “thank you for doing that for me. always found it really romantic, that scene and that song. but you know how i am about pda, so what you just did was really perfect,” you kiss him again. “i honestly can't remember you making that promise, though.”

“i think you had already fallen asleep on me, darlin,” matty giggles. “but i wanted to keep it, anyway. and speaking of promises to keep,” his face goes a bit more serious, but still tender, as he picks up your left hand and kisses your ring finger - your breath catches in your throat, eyes widening and welling up. “gonna marry you someday. i mean it.”