“matty you fucking dick!”

her screech echoes throughout the lower floor of his house and matty bursts out laughing. george stirs on the nearby sofa, huffs something unintelligible and goes back to sleep. 

it’s 9 in the morning the day after they’ve had a late night out, no one should be awake at such an ungodly hour… least of all him. but matty has a mission to accomplish, the fucking childish prank he’s been planning for weeks to see through. 

and this scream—her calling him a “fucking dick”—is the precise reaction he’s been hoping for. 

seconds later she stomps out of his room and matty damn near pisses himself at the sight of her—dripping in water like a wet, angry cat, her t-shirt clinging to her body in all the damp spots and hair as green as an oompa-loompa's. even like this she’s a vision.

“what the fuck did you do?!” she yells again, absolutely fuming. 

between peals of laughter, he somehow manages three words. “happy april fool’s.”

“oh don’t you fucking dare. watch your back healy, i swear to god…”

and then all the yelling wakes george up who takes one look at her and flinches back. he actually flinches back letting out a string of curses in the process until his butt hits the floor. 

matty doubles over, clutching his sides, and wolf-whistles at her just to piss her off a little more. 

“hair dye in a shampoo bottle, how clever,” she huffs, crossing her arms in front of her until the damp  t-shirt sticks to her boobs and the wind gets knocked out of matty’s chest. 

suddenly, nothing is funny—not the green-tinged puddle of water near her feet, not the way her nostrils flare in anger. 

matty’s breath hitches in his throat, and perhaps for the first time he looks at her properly. the damp t-shirt ends halfway down her thighs, bunched up on one side so he can almost see the little group of freckles on the apex of her thigh. the anger makes her eyebrows furrow, makes a small crease appear right between them and matty wishes so desperately he could smooth it with his thumb. his hands tremble at his sides and he tightens them into a fist. 

finally, after what feels like an eternity, george bursts out laughing. 

matty startles—he’d honestly forgotten george was even there, still waking up from sleep and now that he is fully awake, george bursts into a fit of obnoxious cackles. 

“what the fuck happened to you,” he teases to which she just lifts one finger and points it straight at matty. 

matty, despite everything, blushes to the roots of his hair. now that he’s started thinking all these thoughts about her he can’t fucking stop—can’t stop when she bunches the towel in her hands and throws it at him so quick that it makes the t-shirt ride up a bit more. can’t stop when she places her hands on her hips so that the contours of her chest stand out under the damp t-shirt.

he has half a thought to tackle george so he won’t be able to look at her anymore but matty suppresses the urge. barely. 

“i’ll get you back, healy,” she threatens and storms back to his room. 

sure matty was the one who offered to let her have a shower in his bathroom—one, so she could stay over with the rest of their friends for the night, and two, so he could execute the prank. but now he can’t stop imagining it—her under the shower (does she sing?) using his shampoo, his body wash. 

does she smell like him now? he’d die if he got close enough to find out. 

“alright, mate?” george jerks him out of his thoughts. matty turns around to see his friend stretching sleepily, but george’s eyes are still very much trained on matty. his lips are very much pressed into a thin line. 

“you both are insufferable, don’t get why you won’t just tell her,” he mumbles on the way to the kitchen pulling out a mug for himself. 

“don’t know what you’re talking about,” matty shrugs, perhaps a bit too quick and gets another mug out. he puts the kettle on boil, gets the coffee and sugar out.

the whole time george stays quiet but matty can feel his burning stare on the back of his head. 

only when the coffees are done and george takes the first sip does he speak. 

“sure you don’t,” he mutters in a dry tone and takes his phone out (definitely to text charli and gossip about matty’s love life. or the lack thereof.)

in his head he guesses the texts that are being exchanged between them.

he’s chickened out again. 

really? i fucking knew it, he’s never gonna get to it. 

right? she might as well date someone else. 

i should set her up with a friend…

and then shakes his head like that would get rid of the frankly ridiculous thoughts. his friends would never do that to him. they've already meddled and invested too much in his love life by now to give up so easily. besides, he’ll get to it. someday. eventually. 

he’ll get to it when his insides don’t feel like jelly around her. 

he’ll get to it when he feels a bit more brave.

matty’s birthday wish has stayed consistent for the last two years. he wishes he could make a move. he wishes she were single—well, one of those things is true now. he’s no longer pathetic enough to yearn for a girl who’s already with someone else. 

he’ll never admit it to anyone but he did feel a bit of joy when she broke up with her boyfriend earlier that year—okay maybe a lot of joy when he saw how quickly she moved on. 

“we’d been growing distant for some time anyway,” she’d confessed when he checked up on her after the break up. “it was inevitable.”

and now that matty’s birthday gets closer and closer, he thinks of all ways to amend that wish. 

please fucking please give me the courage to just kiss her. 

he doesn’t know who he’s making the wish to. god?? he highly doubts it. the universe?? he scarcely believes in all that new age spirituality crap. the fucking candle company and the cake maker then. 

oh great vanilla bean who sacrificed itself for my cake… give me the courage to finally kiss her. 

he's got like a week still… if he wished every single day starting today, maybe it will come true. cake and candles or not. he's a grown fucking man, he can make a wish before blowing on a fag.

sometime around 5 pm he wakes up to an empty apartment, lingering taste of the sweet vanilla cake that she’d baked for him last year still so fresh on his tongue. 

there’s something else too… there’s the Moment that he’s not quite sure counts as a Moment even though he remembers it vividly—her fingers brushing against his lips while she was wiping away a bit of the frosting, nails grazing against his lips. just a touch too long. all of it—the intense stare, the looking away right after, the refusal to look him in the eye for the rest of the night—all of it feels like a Moment. but the rational part of his brain steers him away from that thought. 

she had a boyfriend at the time. she wouldn’t pine after someone else. least of all him. 

a somewhat humiliating memory resurfaces too—his own lyrics coming to bite him back in the ass—the speaker blaring “she’s got a boyfriend anyway” over and over again while he tries not to punch the dj. 

matty stretches and gets out of bed.

the utter silence feels nice for a change—nicer when half the house is bathed in golden light and he can just stroll through the house in search of some weed and crisps and pop. maybe call his brother and demand that mario kart rematch that’s so so long overdue. 

maybe he should let mayhem out into the backyard first. 

mayhem…

matty freezes in his tracks and slowly turns around, almost like he’s in a horror movie. 

he has not heard the dog bark once! usually mayhem is up and running at him the moment he senses him within a ten feet radius. today however, there’s no patter of paws on the floor. 

matty runs to check the little outdoor area where mayhem usually sits. even before he opens the door though, matty knows what he will find—an empty dog bed, possibly an empty food bowl. 

he lets out a low whistle and twists the door open. there’s an uncharacteristic, loud clatter and a second later he stands at the threshold, doused in hot pink glitter, dog-less, in the middle of his house. 

i’ll get you back, healy!

matty giggles to himself and takes his phone out of his pocket, trying not to get the glitter everywhere. (although by now it’s pretty much settled into his dna, he’s sure of it) 

she picks up on the second ring, followed by a very fake clearing of her throat. 

“did you steal my dog, darling?” matty launches straight into it, trying to hide the smile in his voice.

“no!” and then there’s a faint little yip in the background that sounds suspiciously like the one he hears daily. 

“right…”

“right. that all?”

as gently as he can, matty dusts off the glitter in place and walks back inside in search of a mop or something. he needs to contain the carnage somehow, but on the phone she clears her throat again. 

“did anything else happen?” 

the little giggle in her voice is so obvious to him. matty imagines what she looks like on the other side—on her bed maybe, cuddled up with mayhem who secretly seems to prefer her so much more than matty. on her bed in just a t-shirt maybe… he reigns it in before the thoughts can progress any forward. 

“mayhem seems to have ran away.”

“oh?” then there’s a little silence, which instantly fills with the sound of paws on hard wood. “maybe he’ll come back,” she hedges, “maybe…once the dye in my hair goes away, who knows.”

“is that so?”

“yeah, just a hunch.”

the silence stretches on, none of them willing to hang up first. matty wonders if she’s sat there biting her lip, trying to stifle a laugh. matty wonders what it would be like if he were to bite her lip instead.

“still green?” he tries to tease, voice slightly breathy.

“still sparkly?” she quips back. and well…yes, he is. he’s sure he’s going to be for the rest of time.

“the day’s not over yet, sweetheart.”

sweetheart. where the fuck did that come from? matty runs a shaky hand through his hair and grimaces when it come away hot pink and sparkly. it’s all over his hair too… great.

“is that a threat, darling?” matty almost chokes at the word, his face heats up. fuckin’ hell… if this is what he’s like after one word…

“we’ll see about that tonight.” 

and then like a coward he hangs up before she can shake his composure any further. he closes his eyes and focuses on the birthday wish one more time—it might as well be today, he’s faux-celebrating his birthday later with a few people who can’t be there on the actual day. he just needs to get his shit together and…not fuck up.

he fucks up almost instantly. 

when he walks into the dimly lit pub, he can spot the green-head right from the door. she’s in a flowery blouse and jeans and pulling the hair off so well that he wonders if he should have done this months ago. but matty shakes off his jitters and walks up to his friends. 

several of them are already pretty tipsy, singing and dancing along to the tunes. he is fashionably late after all. they greet him, slapping him on the shoulder as he passes by, drunkenly yelling “happy birthday” even though it’s a week away. graciously, he thanks them all, laughing and joking with his friends before making his way to her. 

turns out the list of tipsy people also includes her.

she beams when she sees him, hurrying to put her cocktail away so she can throw her arms around him. a second later her perfume invades all his senses. matty closes his eyes and takes a deep breath of it. 

“i was waiting for you,” she declares, a few words coming out slurred. “i’ve decided i like the green.”

“yeah? it looks beautiful on you.”

quickly she wrinkles her nose, stepping away from him. “you’re making fun of me!”

“‘m not!” he vehemently defends himself but in the end it’s all in good fun. fondly, she rolls her eyes and grabs his hand, pulling him to the bar. 

“i asked them to set aside this one bottle of wine for you. feel like you’d like it.”

a strange warmth spreads through him—it’s not the most special thing someone’s done for him, it’s just a bottle of wine. but then again nothing is just something when it comes to her. 

she thought about him. she’d been thinking about him. however briefly. 

matty almost leans across and kisses her then but thinks better of it. a crowded pub is no place to do it. 

turns out his first mistake of the night is drinking the wine. well… drinking too much and too fast anyway. 

what starts off as slow sips and savouring the red quickly turns into glasses of wine in a corner while they joke around and giggle uncontrollably. she’s flushed, twinkly-eyed and a bit more than tipsy now. 

matty, on the other hand, might very well be drunk. 

he feels the effects of it—the feeling of his blood being replaced by wine, the buzz in his head, the lack of filter in his words. oh, his head is going to kill him tomorrow.

he doesn’t mind though, anything to be sat here across from her, giggling over an overpriced (but delicious) bottle of wine. matty leans forward, chin on the palm of his hand and watches her laugh at his silly joke. 

“you’re gorgeous, did i tell you that?” for a moment he doesn’t recognise the voice. it’s slurred and deeper than usual and that’s not something he’d ever admit to her so casually. but then she giggles and ruffles his hair, laughing harder when her fingers come back, coated in a bit of glitter. 

“you’re so drunk. but i appreciate it, thank you.”

“no no, i’m not! i mean i am but— i mean it i—” he’s wide-eyed and failing to explain just how much he means it. matty just wants her to understand. this is not some frivolous confession of a wine-addled brain, this is serious. he is serious. 

desperation overrides any sane instinct in his brain. which is his second mistake of the night. 

the words come out faster than he can process them, faster than he can filter them and make them digestible. 

“you– you don’t know how long i’ve waited to say this. every time i get enough courage there’s either a boyfriend or something else. there’s always— fuck, forget all that. that doesn’t matter—”

“matty—”

“no, no listen to me, listen to what i’m trying to tell you.” 

the more he speaks (rambles) the more the smile slips from her face, replaced by something he can’t quite place. she’s not… disgusted by him, is she? he hopes not. that really would be the final nail in the coffin. 

“i’ve been trying—” he chokes, deeply swallowing more wine, “—been trying to tell you, i love you! i love you, i love you, i love you. i have for so long!”

and that’s when she pulls back entirely, leaning back into her chair as if she can’t put enough distance between them. her face shutters into an unreadable mask and matty feels panic bubbling up deep inside his stomach. 

shit shit shit. 

what has he done. 

oh god, he clearly wasn’t thinking straight. this wasn’t how it was meant to go. this wasn’t how any of it wasn’t meant to go. it was meant to be followed by a kiss and maybe more. it was meant to be followed by an “i love you too”. 

not… indifference. 

or worse… disgust. 

which is when he makes his third (and perhaps the worst) mistake of the night. 

matty laughs. it’s hysterical and sharp and verging on cruel. he laughs until he can feel the tears in his eyes and he can only hope they don’t spill down his cheeks. and then he says the words he can never take back. 

“oh god, look at your face. i was joking!”

“what…”

“it’s still the first of april, did you forget?”

each word is like a nail being hammered into his heart. but matty hopes it would be enough. in two seconds she’d roll her eyes and laugh at herself for falling for it. in a minute they will go back to drinking and joking. matty can pretend. he’s become quite good at it. 

instead, she gets up so fast that her chair almost clatters to the ground. 

in the dim lightning of the pub, matty can’t see the tears gathered in her eyes. although that might be because his eyes are still blurry from his own tears. 

“love—”

“you’re a cunt, matty.” she says the words with an eerie calmness, mechanically gathers her bag and phone and walks away. only then does he register the extent of what’s happening. 

the wine bottle falls to the floor and shatters when he drunkenly bumps into the table. red spills everywhere, soaking his shoes, the leg of his jeans. he hurries after her, tripping and falling as the full force of the alcohol hits him once again, calling out her name again and again. the music drowns it out. 

she’s out the door before matty’s even halfway across the pub. 

fuck… how did it go so wrong so quick. 

how did he mess it up so bad… 

he almost retches right there on the floor, grabbing a passer-by to steady himself. he needs to do something, he needs to make this right. he needs to…

he doesn't know what. his heart pounds in his chest and his throat feels so dry and tight he can barely speak, barely even breathe. matty sinks to his knees right there in the middle of the pub, gasping for breath. 

he doesn’t know what happens next, doesn’t remember much after that. all he remembers is the feeling of doom and the loud, odd rhythm of his heart. 

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“fuck off,” matty smacks his friend on the back of the head. objectively, he knows george is right - you are hot, that's merely a fact, you're gorgeous - but that doesn't mean he has to like hearing him bring it up.

whatever. it's not like matty can get mardy at him for it - he isn't your boyfriend, after all. technically, you're barely even friends; he's known you all of four weeks, and has yet to see you in a social setting. 

he really fucking wants to, though. hence, his current dilemma.

george laughs. “mate, you're only asking her to come over to mine for your birthday drinks. it's not like you're asking her out or anything.”

“no,” matty hums, eyes unfocusing on their view out the window as his brain conjures up thoughts of doing just that. it's a nice thought, admittedly not an unfamiliar one, and something he will absolutely get distracted imagining if he doesn't snap out of it now. he blinks. “i just think it'd be nice if she was there, y'know? but, at the same time, i don't want her to feel weird about me asking, cos she doesn't know us that well yet.”

“i think you're overthinking it,” comes the salient reply. “can sort-of see where you're coming from, but i reckon if you just fucking ask her like a normal person then it'll be fine.”

matty sighs. “alright. you're right. i'll ask her before the end of the day.”

“well,” george turns to him, shit-eating grin on his face. he nods towards the glass panel on the door. “she's heading towards us, so you're doing it now.”

fuck. matty peers through the window, heart softening as he watches you wander towards him - sorry, them - stack of papers in hand and your hair escaping the messy ponytail he watched you shove it into earlier. “perfect.”

he barely has time to force the panic from his face before you're knocking softly on the half-open door, poking your head around it with a sweet smile. “hi, boys. am i okay to come in with some admin? i can come back later if you're busy.”

matty opens his mouth to speak, but george beats him to it. “oh, we're not busy at all. matty was just doing my fucking head in, as per,” he laughs when matty scowls at him. “what d'you need?”

“just got some risk assessments for album events that i need you to read and sign. the fun stuff,” you awkwardly (endearingly, matty would say) put the papers on the desk, looking up at matty as you step back and shyly clasp your hands behind your back. god, you are so fucking cute. “and, for the record, i doubt what george just said about you is true, matty.”

“thank you, darling,” matty smiles, at the exact same time as george says “no, he genuinely was being a pain in the arse”; he turns to his best friend, glaring. “what, george, like you're being to me now?”

george winks at you. “worse.”

you giggle nervously, turning towards the door - matty's heart drops as you do. “well, don't let me get in the way. just get those back to me as soon as you can, please, alright?”

“wait, before you go,” george calls after you. “can we talk to you about something?”

“um, yeah?” you turn back around, pretty face panicked, and nervously cross one arm over your stomach to hold the other. “am i in trouble?”

fuck, you are so adorable. matty smiles as softly as possible - not difficult, though, when it’s you he’s smiling at. “no, no, of course not. what would you even be in trouble for, anyway? you’re perfect.”

“oh,” you smile bashfully. “thank you.”

“it’s true. anyway,” matty clears his suddenly-very-dry throat as best he can. “we were wondering… are you, um, busy on saturday?”

“the 9th?” your brow furrows as you think. “yeah, i am, actually - my friend’s moving in with his boyfriend, and i said i’d help,” the panicked expression crosses your face again. “why do you ask? is there something else on that day that i should be at?”

crestfallen, matty replies with a “no, it’s alright, not a big deal”; george cuts him off, though. “it’s not a work thing, no - we were just gonna ask if you wanted to come to the little birthday celebration we’re having for matty at mine that day-”

“but really, if you can’t make it, no hard feelings,” matty interjects, practically tripping over his words in his haste to reassure you (read: seem cool about it, and not let on that he’s disappointed). “we know it’s short notice.”

you blink a few times, biting your lip before you look directly at matty and speak. “what time would you want me?”

well, anytime, all the time, really. “oh. just after 4? it’s quite casual, not a sit-down dinner or anything. but, like i said, no pressure.”

“no, i think i could probably be there for that time!” you nod enthusiastically. “i’ll text you if anything changes, but,” you beam, and matty thinks his heart might pack in. “i’ll do my best to be there. thanks for asking, both of you.”

“of course,” george grins. “you’re our friend. why wouldn’t we ask you?”

he isn’t technically wrong, calling you that on behalf of both of them, but it still makes matty feel like he’s bitten into a lemon. a friend; how he wishes there was another word prefixing it, one only he could use to describe you.

still, you’ll hopefully be there to celebrate his birthday with him, and that sweetens everything - if you turn up, that is. “exactly. you’re top of the guestlist, darling.”

you huff out a laugh, looking at matty so affectionately he could cry. “better make a proper effort to get to the party, then,” you look at your watch. “i’m sorry, i’ve got to run to a meeting - hopefully see you at the weekend?”

“yeah,” matty nods. you’re out of the office before he can finish speaking, and his parting phrase comes out feebly as a result. “bye, darling.”

he moves to sit back at his desk, lifting one of the risk assessments and beginning to read it in silence. george peers round his laptop, gawking at his best friend. “why you being all emo?”

“i’m not.”

“yeah, you are. you’re like a black cloud,” a beat passes, then george speaks again, voice softer. “the invitation went well, at least.”

matty hums noncommittally. “s’pose.” 

“it did, matthew. she was excited. she said she’d try her best to be there. those are good things.”

“i know,” matty sighs. “i just… i hope she’ll be there. be a shame if she wasn’t.”

“i think she will.”

“well, we’ll see.”

***

“... happy birthday, dear matty, happy birthday to you!”

matty smiles at the mismatched chorus of voices, laughing when charli ruffles his hair after she sets the cake down on the coffee table in front of him. “oi, bean,” he lightly taps eilidh, sat on his lap, on the shoulder. “i know we’re a bit early to be celebrating your birthday, but will you help me blow out the candles?”

she nods excitedly, tiny ponytail bouncing. matty beams, and they gently blow out a “3” candle each, to a soundtrack of applause. ross, sat next to the two of them, reaches over to smooth his daughter’s hair. “have the cigarettes finally caught up to you, or are you just getting too old?”

matty furrows his brow. “d’you mean?”

“well, you just needed my toddler’s help to blow out your candles - stop it, i’m joking,” his friend laughs, leaning to the side to avoid matty smacking the back of his head. “did you make a wish?”

“obviously.”

“what for?”

“can’t tell you,” matty takes a sip of his wine, lifting it out of eilidh’s reach - ross lifts her onto his own lap, and she cuddles into him quite cutely. “won’t come true, otherwise.”

“fair enough,” ross shrugs. he nods to something behind matty. “g’s trying to get your attention, mate.”

“is he?” matty turns, heart rate increasing when he hears george saying your name into the phone pressed to his ear. after excusing himself from the table, he quickly follows his friend into the quiet hallway, tensing every muscle in his body to stop his leg bouncing in nervous anticipation.

the nerves fade quickly, though - george smiles as he talks, and then he says something that makes matty want to actually skip around the house. “you’re almost here? amazing, everyone’s looking forward to seeing you…”

understatement of the fucking century.

“... and yeah, i’ll make sure someone’s outside so you know where to go,” he laughs down the line, and matty’s heart melts at the thought of you endearingly asking for that. “alright, no worries. see you soon,” george ends the call, sighing dramatically before smirking at the birthday boy. “told you she’d be here.”

“yeah, yeah,” matty rolls his eyes, but he can’t keep his cheeks from lifting into a smile, no matter how hard he tries. although, to be fair, he’s not trying particularly hard. “i’ll wait for her, mate.”

“you sure? it’s your party, after all.”

“exactly - i should be there to greet the guests,” matty smirks. “and i fancy a cig, too, if i’m honest.”

george scoffs. “typical. here,” he chucks a set of house keys at matty, who manages to catch them with the very tips of his fingers. “you’d better head out now.”

“sweet.”

it’s actually a little bit chilly when matty steps outside george’s front door, but it’s a nice evening; the sun is just beginning to set, casting a golden hue over london, the birds are chirping quietly, and the whole thing is just really quite peaceful. he perches as well as he can on the front gate, lighting up a cigarette and contentedly taking a drag. by the time your uber arrives, he’s halfway finished the cig, but he barely has time to even think about stubbing it out before you’re out of the car and walking towards him. 

he waves, eyes trailing slowly up your body, lingering on your bare legs and almost popping out of his head when they take notice of the slight cleavage your sundress is showing off. not that it’s obscene, or anything, he’s just so used to seeing you all office-chic and buttoned-up. still, matty quickly shifts his focus to that beautiful face of yours, just to keep his cool.

as if he could, around you.

you beam as you near him. “hi! i’m so, so sorry i’m late,” you open your arms for a hug, and he slots into them eagerly, savouring the rose of your perfume. “had to marinate in the shower for a bit after today, i stunk.”

“well, you smell good now. and you look it, too, i love that dress,” matty replies, heart breaking ever so slightly when you pull apart. “and you’re here, that’s all that matters.”

“thanks! and i wouldn’t have missed your birthday, matty - speaking of, here,” you pull a bottle of red from your bag and hand it to him. “didn’t know what to get you, so i figured this was a safe bet.”

“you didn’t have to get me anything! thanks, though, darling,” he looks at the label, eyes widening. “shit, this is good. shall we go inside and open it?”

“oh, if you like,” you smile. “or you can save it for someone special, i'm cool either way.”

matty shrugs, smiling. “i mean, i'm looking at such a person right now.”

it's maybe a tiny bit far a statement for a platonic relationship, but you don't take it badly at all - you just smile back, quietly agree to share the wine, and follow matty when he leads you back into the house and straight into the empty kitchen.

you gasp when you see the birthday cake on the counter. “no! i missed the cake?”

“only by a few minutes,” matty stops rummaging in a drawer for the corkscrew to look round at you; his heart jolts when he sees you look genuinely sad. “really, darling, it's not a big deal.”

“i still feel bad, though. i really am sorry for not being here on time, matty.”

“hey, none of that, please,” he hands you a glass of wine and puts his arm around your shoulders, biting back a beam as you automatically melt into him. “like i said, you're here now, and that's the main thing. and it's my birthday party, so you have to listen to me.”

“alright,” you look up at him, smiling, and hold out your glass. “happy birthday, sweetheart.”

he smiles warmly at the pet name, heart aglow, and taps his glass lightly on your own. “thank you, darling. d'you think we should cut the cake?”

jesus, what a spiral that phrase could lead him into. thank god you're not wearing white today.

you nod. “where does george keep plates? i'll get them.”

“cupboard above the kettle.”

plates and knife procured, matty carefully slices into the cake, oohing and ahhing at the interior. “wow. look at the layers! they're so neat.”

“alright, paul hollywood.”

he giggles. “i love bake off.”

“so do i - oh, thank you,” you take the plate from him, and then a bite of the cake. “fuck me, that's good.”

he laughs, pushing himself to sit on the counter and taking a bite of his own slice. “christ, you were not kidding. fucking amazing.”

“isn't it?” you wash your bite down with some wine. “m'still sorry i didn't get to see you blowing out the candles, though.”

“eilidh helped me.”

you aww, perching yourself on the counter next to him. “i take it you made a wish?”

“of course.”

“good,” you rest your head on his shoulder, so casually intimate that matty thinks his legs would give way if he tried to stand right now. “d'you think it'll come true?”

Matty wants you to be with him at the exact time when the clock strikes midnight. It doesn't matter if you're an ocean away, just wait to hear you sing her happy birthday.

He knows that even if he wants you to, you can't come out the door. This shouldn't make him sad because it's something he's been facing for years.

You work for the UK's most influential finance company, and while the insistence on doing the work outside has been almost unbearable, Matty knows that you love being in your office or doing the work in the house where you both live together. God, that sounds good.

Officially he's a year older, and without wanting to touch sentimentality, he just feels tired when he rests his head on the white pillow in the hotel room. He doesn't look at his phone screen for a long time, just think about how you're going through the flu that kept you from coming with him to New York.

In the meantime, you have other plans that doesn't involve fever, soup, and phlegm.

You look at your phone screen, you know it's past 12 in New York, so Matty is oficially 35 years old.

It's four in the morning in England, and once again you confirm how much you hate such an abysmal difference in schedules. You could call him now and tell him you still have the flu, but he'd end up figuring out the trick.

Maybe when it's six o'clock in the morning you can greet him with more credibility.

For now, you finish arranging the house and the final touches before taking the suitcase as you sigh out of the house.

--

"Honeeeeeeeeey" Matty literally jumps into bed making them both jump. You rub your forehead and he gives you an innocent smile. It's not an argument at all, but he's gone dumb. "Come on, fly with me to York.

"Matty, I can't." You straighten up on the mattress, giving it room to rest its head on your trunk. "I would love to go, but it's impossible." You wrap your fingers around her hair and massage it into circles. You hear him purr like he's been waiting for him all day. "I have a lot of work, we have like fifty new clients or something like that. I can't apart myself from the company, i really sorry."

"I'm not saying you get apart, you still can work through your computer." He turns to see you with a pretty sad look in his features. "I don't want to be annoying, it's just…it will be my birthday. The first with you as my girlfriend."

"Hey, i can't even say how much i'm sorry, but i really do." You grab his right hand and squeeze his, on your way to kiss his head a desperate fit of coughing interrupts you. "Shit, I'm ill."

It doesn't sound so convincing, but if all goes well, an idea begins to form in your head that might consecrate you as bride of the year.

"But hey, babe, I'm going to reward you when you return. I promise." You see him unravel at your touch, watching him as he indulges in sleep. While he is awake closing his eyes, you whisper into his ear. "You're going to have an incredible birthday, Matty."

- - -

Even though spring has been running through London for over a month, the dawn suddenly turns cold. Not only because you got sick in the course of two days, (even if you did it on purpose and forced yourself to sneeze around the corners), but also because everything feels a little tense in your room. Matty's not mad, obviously he knows he can't get you out of the country in the middle of a flu outbreak let alone by force, but he's pretty sad about getting used to the idea of spending his birthday away from you. It's satirical to him, they've officially been together for nine months, but you've spent more birthdays near him than it looks. By chance or fate, they were always in the same bars or pubs where they celebrated their years of life.

What's ironic, too, is that they met after a financial argument. It was 2017, you were relatively new to the company and Dirty Hit needed a safe backing, betting on the company you still work for. At first there were no complaints, until a money leak was triggered and backing the company you basically went to the studio to talk to Jamie in pretty strong terms.

In the end, there were no dead to bury, everything worked out. What you did bury was your washing soap shirt, thanks to Matty literally spilled his coffee machine on you when you were about to leave. It wasn't a good day for anyone, your folders just fell off and picking them up you bumped into Matty, in a semi-sleeping state with coffee running over your skin and a cheap apology as he opened his eyes surprised enough. Then it just happened for some reason, they both found fun in the same places. It was too many years of seeing each other at nightclubs maybe four times a year, saying hello from afar and going on, until a year and a few months ago they needed an insurance upgrade, which gave you another visit to Dirty Hit, no spilled coffee this time.

Matty asked for your number, then he bought you a drink, and here they are, saying goodbye to each other.

"Hey listen, call my mom if you feel bad or if you need something. At least promise me this." Kiss your head as they both walk towards the front door, you wrapped in a blanket and him between bags and suitcases.

"I'll do." You reassure him with a broad smile. "Stay safe, love you."

"See you soon, love." You and him kiss quickly as he presses his thumb on your cheek. "Love you, too."

"Matty."

"¿Yes"

"You're forgetting something, dude." You unlock your chain with a small white stone hanging, to lock it around her neck later. "Now it's okay." You steal a hug and when they finally part, the taxi comes to the door. "Bye."

"Bye." He greets you with hishand and throws the first accessory he has at hand, his bracelet.

You hate to say goodbye to him when he goes to the airport, and even though you'll see him in two days, you still hate him. You're so used to waking up with him, having its scent all over the house, that when that bubble disappears, you hate what it's created at some point. It hasn't been five minutes and you miss him like you haven't seen him in months.

You squeeze his bracelet. It's their little tradition. Every time one goes on a journey, both exchange accessories in a way to show the other that they are still there even at a distance. You don't remember when it started, but you like the sentimentality of the issue.

Now, of course Matty's right: you'll call Denise. You already have, actually. She's aware of all the deception and she's the one who's most excited about it. He talked to Tom and Louis while you talked to Adam, because he's the least likely to reveal it to your boyfriend. It's not that you don't trust others, it's just that he's wiser for this.

- - -

You touch your head down because actually if you feel sick, maybe you've been too extreme, but you hope it's worth it. Denise calls on your portal with the car horn pulling you out of the trance, you get in the car and when you want to say something else you just fall asleep in the backseat.

Half an hour later, she wakes you up gently rocking you. She's so much like Matty you could cry, you love everything her family is and how you've been treated from the first day you walked through that door. Even if she's your mother-in-law, they get along incredibly well considering how fast they've connected.

"Are you sure about this?" She asks, handing over the car keys and lowering the suitcases from the trunk. "I mean, you look really tired."

"I know, I know. I spend the day thinking if i had everything, and thinking about the gift, and trying to organize the things with Adam, meanwhile i tried to not being colapsed by the numbers." The two laugh, she looks at you with a more relaxed expression and just lets her walls fall down.

"Matty is so lucky to have you." She murmurs with bright eyes and genuine happiness. "I don't know if I've ever met someone capable of getting sick just for surpise his boyfriend in his birthday…on the other side of the world." You think she's about to get emocional when her eyes start stinging, and she notices it. "I get a bit emotional but you know, my son is growing up next to someone who truly loves him, and as a mother you don't know how important it is to know that."

Well, now you'll cry.

"Oh god, I love you Denise." You drop your bags and embrace her with the greatest affection you've ever had. "I'll might cry."

She laughs tenderly. "Keep the tears for the show, darling."

----

The belief that it would be a seven-hour flight (plus the check-in hours, obviously) that would be somewhat exhausting and that it would take time to pass becomes part lie and part truth. You actually have a lot of fun with Denise telling you anecdotes of her life in the span of waiting time to board, you can't lie, but then on the plane you start to get bored after a few hours: you've seen a movie, you've slept, you've saturated your Spotify and you only think about how Matty will be. You feel guilty about the birthday message because you know he'll be worried thinking that something is up, but later you'll ask for forgiveness.

Happy birthdayy Matty. I love you so much, i hope you ́ll always be happy.

This is too short, but i feel totally sick. I'll send you a large text later.

Matty tosses and turns in bed heavily after waking up with that message as his first course. He sighs as he goes to the bathroom, looks at himself in the mirror running a hand through his hair. It feels terrible.

Well, you haven't forgotten his birthday, but he feels that you have. Maybe it's not that.

He knows you don't like him smoking too much, but you're not here and it's the only thing keeping him sane so he doesn't yell at you if he's done something wrong. He opens the window and collapses on the balcony floor, a cigarette between his lips. He exhales, he can't believe he's spending the time like that on his birthday.

He feels like he has a dagger stuck somewhere in his body, he feels tense and knows he's not in the bliss mode that someone should have on their birthday. But God, he hates to blame himself and blame you for things.

You've been weird for days, and yes, maybe you're sick, but in the months you´ve been with him you've never been this weird. Overthinking things isn't something he likes or does too much, but now he's debating whether something has happened and you don't want to tell him. He exhales again and relapses into the state of his cuticles, but as a cumpulsive reflex he bites them. Has he done something wrong? Has he crossed any limits? Did you get angry about something he didn't do? Did he forgot your birthday? No, he hasn't forgotten that.

Trata de no permitirse pensar en la pregunta más dolorosa para él: ¿Hay alguien más? ¿Estás cansado de él y de su vida de poca estabilidad? Bueno, en cualquier caso te merecerías algo mejor.

Adam knocks on the door as an answer to problems. He knows he has to take care of him until you make your appearance, but everyone is aware that he may not be in his best mood.

"Hey, birthday boy, how did you wake up?" When Matty opens the door, he hugs him and Adam knows his best friend needs him. "Matty, tell me."

"It's just…No, it's a silly thing." He regrets it fluttering his eyes, but collapses on the bed tiredly. "I'm tired, that's all."

"No, it's not. Something is affecting you, so definitely there is something more than being tired. You dońt have to fake it with me, you know." Adam knows the reason why he is like this, and although he wants to tell him that she's really on her way, he can't.

"It's her, Adam. She ́s been in a distant mode for days, acting strange." He shrugs, Adam sits on the other end of the mattress, sinking it. "Her greeting was a bit cold, or too generic. It's not typycal for her.

Adam feels really bad lying to his friend, he feels like a traitor, and he really struggles to find the right words. "Didn't you tell me she was sick?" He asks, and Matty sighs, nodding. "Should be this."

"yes, but.."

"Listen to me, really." Adam cuts him off and thinks about how much he can take this like this, he can't allow his partner to collapse before the show, much less the surprise. "She loves you, i d on't know the reason for his behavior and I would love to know so I can tell you, but unfortunately I don't know." Guilty, liar. "Despite that, you just turned 35, it's too early for the midlife crisis for a congratulation. The day is not over yet

Matty slurps as he swallows without the strength to continue the conversation, not in this tone at least. He doesn't have any argument to play in his favor and that makes him a little angry.

"You have a birthday show tonight, it will be nice."

- - -

Madison Square Garden will never cease to amaze you and seem practically huge. You do not manage to make the connection between the measures of the venue, it seems much bigger than it is. You have entered more than once, both as a spectator of shows or as you are now, as an accompanist of the band that presents on the day, and still it leaves you breathless how massive it is. Not in your best dreams would you imagine having the chance to tour it.

But, what makes you more sensitive is to hear so many people divided into the branches and sections of the seats and the standing field cheering, shouting and even crying with a euphoric amount of adrenaline in the body by the celestial and pink lights that illuminate the stage, decorated in its scenography representing a house with all the rooms. It's still hard for you to believe that you're dating the lead singer of a band that has mobilized so many people around the world for years. They have come to see the four of them, they have come to hear what is the story they have to tell and to show them their affection and loyalty as they identify themselves in tears in the four chords of their best songs.

In a way you think that's everything a singer expects, and that by the same token, it's the most sincere reason for the fans in front of Matty's birthday. Because even though you don't spend too much time on the floor, you manage to see posters related to her birthday.

The whole Healy family, followed by you, take refuge in George and Adam's dressing rooms, because even if you came out of a cake in Matty's dressing room when the delivery changes, you'd lose the idea you planned. Now, you just hope Matty doesn't find it weird enough that they switched The Birthday Party to Act 3, and Guys is almost after. I wouldn't have to do that, in fact, since it's a pretty emotional and pretty setlist to play on your birthday.

When Matty's nightmare act ends and he descends from the second stage you try to make as little noise as possible next to his dressing room, mainly because you're going to scare him. The one you're scaring is George, but he's covering it up by saying there was a spider in his dressing room. Then with a thumb sign him shows that everything is ready for the next step. When the act of Still at their very best (the last of the show) begins with If you ́re too shy, you get ready, two songs later you have to get the whole audience to see you, but not Matty.

Then, It ́s not living reaches the middle with a consecrated closure between the drums and the guitar. Cheers fill the place. The action then begins when all the screens change focus and signs appear saying that, in front of the people you will see now, keep quiet because it is a surprise for both Matty and the fans. There are confused looks, intertwined, nobody understands anything but they keep singing so as not to show that the screens have changed again.

The crowd wants to go crazy, and some screams escape when it's you who's seen go behind the scenes. For the sake of greater care, you go behind George's drums and ask everyone with your fingers to be silent on the subject. You sit behind the biggest drum and you see it over your head.

There he is, dressed up in his black pants, his white shirt and previously the suit jacket with the pants. His tie's almost untied, and it makes you laugh, you don't think he knows he tied it wrong. The curls fall in front of him out of control due to tiredness and sweat, but you think he's never looked better in years.

"Thanks for coming to see the greatest band in the world, the 1975!" The sticks resonate on the drum, the play of grey lights makes everything a little psychedelic. The crowd bursts into cheers without differentiating the why. "And today it's my birthday, so thank you for coming here. I love you guys."

There's a mixture of exasperated emotions all over the compound. Even you have glassy eyes to see him smile in such a pure way, his place has always been and always will be the stage in front of the fans, when he is freer than ever and where he feels comfortable. This particular show is not just important because of this event, but because in fact, it's the end of the tour. It's emotionally sad, the melancholy is reciprocal in the stadium because nobody knows when there will be a new tour of them.

"Yeah, I know, this is sad. It ́s ironic that my birthday will be the last show of the tour." He grins and laughs showing his teeth to the audience. "But, thanks for being here, is my biggest gift."

So, Matty freaks out when he hears a noise behind him.

"And it's not over yet, friend of mine." Absolutely everyone is surprised to hear George through the microphone resonating in the stadium, Matty doesn't understand what's going on either. "Ladies and gentleman, please everybody look at the screen."

What happens next is the best and the worst that Matty has had in front of him, cataloging it as the worst because when pictures of him appear when he was little with his mother and father, playing guitar or just being a kid, it makes him wiggle and feel like he could really die right there from the excitement. Without looking away, dazzled and uncertain but motivated to keep seeing him, he sits on the edge of the stage.

The atmosphere is automatically warm, but even the noise does not break it. The screen now changes, and begins with a greeting from George, pointing to a picture of when they were 13, how they have grown up so far and how you can't imagine a life without him, then closes Charly telling how much she enjoys talking to him, and how much fun he is in any situation. Then comes Adam, along with Carly, telling how he is the youngest of the group, but how important he is for both of them in their lives. Finally there is Ross, who talks about how fortunate he is to have him as a friend, how proud he is of everything he has accomplished and how much he appreciates his friendship.

Screen in black. Matty takes care of the tears because he suspects it doesn't end there, but his eyes turn to candy, all his factions calm down and he refrains from leaping into the arms of his friends.

You can't tell how many, but suddenly fans appear in the video, talking about how they've saved their lives through the band, the refuge it's for them and how much the band has done in terms of connecting them with their closest friends, and giving them a reason to keep fighting. Everyone laughs when they hear the reactions of the fans appearing in the video, realizing it.

Now yes, everything seems to indicate that it's over. Matty tries to stand up, but something stops him.

Her mother. On the screen.

Satirically, her greeting begins by asking if she thought they had forgotten about her, but without giving any room to react, Louis and Tom appear on the screen, their entire family in one place.

Really, Matty feels like the luckiest person in the world to have so much affection around him, he doesn't know if he deserves it, but he accepts it and feels like the feeling of familiarity and brotherhood envelops his body as his brother and his parents talk about how he's changed everyone's lives, the support he's been in his brother's life, and how the little boy who played the guitar off-tune at four o'clock in the afternoon has become a man made and upright, able to love and defend his people, with a exemplary talent.

Matty blinks, doesn't know how to go on now. He simply knows that he cannot ask for anything else for his life, he is loved by those he loves, and is reciprocated.

The screen lights up for the last time. You and Mayhem.

You look the at George, who cries just like you. He notices your gaze but responds only with a quick smile.

"Hey, honey, this will be short because I hope you know how happy I am to have you in my life." Matty stops controlling the tears, bathes in them, his shirt is full of water right now. So he remembers your message today, and he knows that you were behind all this, no one else would have done it this way otherwise. He sees his dog move his front legs and really misses him: "Happy birthday, I love you more than my words can prove. Thank you for being the most amazing, sweetest human being I've ever met. You're an angel and I love to agree with you." The greeting ends when you send a kiss to the camera, followed by Mayhem's osico in the foreground with a heart, with an M drawn.

The legend of The End stands on top. Everyone has cried, the makeup has gone off but this is the most intimate thing that everyone has experienced today. Everybody's grateful for coming to celebrate Matty.

"Could you please close your eyes?" Adam asks, and Matty is not the one who could say no.

Matty continues sitting, not moving. He can't process everything his head is telling him miles per second. He knows that he can't speak well enough after crying and will only say silly phrases, But it has to. Ross comes to his rescue and has a hand to lift him up. They hug with Matty crying on his shoulder while continuing to repeat that she loves him. Ross pats him on the back and points to Adam on the microphone.

He smells something as smoke, and he's right. Behind the scenes of the three entrances appear his mother, his father and Louis beside him with a rectangular cake with porcelain figures of the little house, and the four figures of the band, with a 35 as a candle.

Ross lets Matty go, and when the distance is unbearable, you're the one who runs to grab his hands when everyone screams to open his eyes. He opens them and finds you embraced to his body more tightly than ever. By inertia, he tightens the grip on your waist without ceasing to hug you. Now neither of us knows who to blame for the water running down the Briton's white shirt.

"I love you. I love you. I love you." You whisper incessantly, as he stabilizes in front of you, trying to get out of the surprise and accepting that you're actually in front of him, it's not a dream, he looks at the cake and cries again. He watches the audience feeling their heart pouring out into their hands. "Happy everything, my love."

He pulls you away from the grip when the birthday song rings out and has the cake in front of him without realizing it, but holds your hand in his fist. He coins it, and he protects it inside him. His smile is sadly short, but he has never had a greater look of genuine love on him than now. His wet eyelids, his face full of dry tears and his eyes glowing like never before. All thanks to you. He looks back at the cake and makes a face of utter surprise when he sees his figure made of porcelain sitting on the piano.

"Hey, that's me!" He's chirping like he's a kid who just ate a paddle he's seen in the store. Its essence is discovered there, that immeasurable happiness that creeps through all present.

He couldn't even think about how much he loves you because everything happens too fast, but he knows that after this he could never leave you. He doesn't know it yet, but this is the moment when Matty would close everything else. After this he would decide that you would be the woman of his life, that he would marry you and that they would have a family. You just kind of signed a sentence saying that he would never let anything happen to you and that if he had to lay down his life for you, he would.

George, Adam and Ross approach Matty as well, along with Polly, John and the rest of the band, all standing in a semicircle in front of the stage. The fire lights up Matty's face who has refused to block the touch of you two. You literally have to whisper his name in his face with a silly smile so he'll let you go and be the only one in the middle of the round.

The flashes of the phones illuminate the scene, there is the same chorus symphony composed of dozens of voices that work at the same time without prior coordination. No, it's not a movie and it's not a dream that someone's going to wake up from, it's really happening.

The fire dissipates, again the sound of clashing palms comforts the place. Denise leaves the cake on the piano and hurls herself at her son. She loves him so much, and is so happy that he can be really happy being who he is. The sequence is quite fast, his family hugs him, then the four hug and the difference in height is noticeable between the four males. Then goes Polly, Jhon and everyone else who's there. The show is delayed for the same reason, but nobody really cares about sacrificing a song to be part of this moment.

He opens his arms towards you and makes you fly through the air for a second before giving you his best Chesire Cat smile. Seize the moment to steal a quick kiss leaving behind the expanse of euphoria that surrounds them. For Matty there really is nothing else right now than him and you on the whole ethereal plane he's met at the age of 35. Fans disappear, the band and their parents too, as long as it merges into you in touch can only feel how they function the same way, being really a single soul trapped between two bodies. God, he's lovesick of the love he has for you, and he could throw it up right now, but surely all he could do is throw up his heart.

The contact ends, and finally he approaches the microphone.

"I really have the greatest persons and the greatest fans in the world. I ́m incredibly glad about it." He runs his hand through his hair and laughs, shedding his last tears. "Saying thanks it wouln ́t be enough, and I could never finish thanking you for all this, but i love each and every one of you, honestly."

Matty grabs his acoustic guitar almost the second he says that. The chords of The birthday party are heard. Everything is extremely special about this song and it is something narrow and deep, there is a truth to count on the song at this moment so charged with sentimentality.

Matty has spent years of his lost life without having a reason to keep him going, floating around while surviving, or trying to. He has come and gone as far as anyone could imagine, has suffered perhaps too much to expose his vulnerability. Indeed, he felt lost in hell during the most unbearably difficult years of his life. He's driven so many people away by his personality and by neglecting so many ties, but now he knows.

He has alienated so many people by his personality and by neglecting so many ties, but now he knows that although he may be late for some, he has enough with him. All your friends are here, in the same scene, no matter what that means.

The following of Guys in a much calmer tone makes everyone end up crying, their most personal song as a band. Matty feels the same as before, his friends have been the best thing that's ever happened to him, and they've saved his life thousands and thousands of times. He could not get used to the idea of lose them, because he would crumble without them in his life.

Just like he would do without you.

In the end, Matty makes fun of himself for being so bitter all day. He really had the best birthday of his entire life.

in my head this is a tender idea of ​​how much I would give way to see matty happy, so I hope that was achieved. also, happy birthday weekend matty you are the best.

You’d know Matty Healy since you were both toddlers barely able to speak and now here you were 18 years later with the biggest crush on your best friend.

you admire the amazing person he had grew up to become, watching as he effortlessly mingled with both his and your own friends who had happily taken up the invite to his birthday party, any excuse for teenagers to attend a house party.

“Hey birthday boy” you yelled over the loud house music that was blasting from a speaker in the corner of the room,

“hey trouble you having a good night” Matty asked sounding like he was enjoying indulging in the birthday drinks,

“yeah it’s great everyone seems to be having a great time” you said looking around at the group of teenagers,

“so come on then what did you wish for when your mum forced you to blow out those candles” you asked teasingly knowing that the boy would hate you bringing up the embarrassment of the earlier events.

“Now now sweetheart I can’t be telling you those things can I” he replied flirtatiously as he brushed a strand of hair from your face making your heart rate quicken.

“Hmm knowing that mind of yours I don’t think I want to know actually” you affirm with a mischievous smile that makes Matty laugh.

“Oh love you just know me too well don’t you”. He’s quips, “and actually if you must know it was much more wholesome than that” he says as his hands find their way onto your hips.

“Well birthday boy I’m Actually yet to give you your present” you declare earning a raise of his eyebrow from Matty,

“but earlier you….” cutting Matty off as you lean your head up and place your lips softly on his as your lips move in a perfect motion one that you’re desperate to know more of, tasting the earlier drinks and tobacco on both of your tongues as you revel in this glorious moment.

george’s massive hand rests on matty’s back while he retches into the toilet. 

his head pounds mercilessly, the sunlight streaming in through the window is barely helping and the soured wine churning in his stomach comes back up once again, leaving him gasping for air. a loud splash echoes in the bathroom and matty groans, gagging a bit more. 

george is a good friend. he lets matty lean on him and holds the glass of water so matty can slowly sip from it.

it barely works though. he feels like shit regardless, and none of it can be cured by water or food or painkillers. 

george helps him get back to bed once matty feels slightly better. the whole time neither of them say a word. matty doesn’t know how much of last night has been told to his friend—does he know the precise way in which matty fucked up? did he see matty in the act? overhear the conversation accidentally? 

george’s face looks completely blank. he does all the right things—sets a glass of water and a few painkillers next to matty, grabs him a bucket, draws the blackout curtains. he even offers to get breakfast.

“fry up from that small cafe down the street,” he says in a hushed voice. “come on, greasy food’s good for hangovers.”

matty mumbles something like a vague yes, if only so george would step out of the house for a bit. once he’s out, matty searches for his phone, wedged somewhere between the mattress and the headboard. the sudden brightness makes him wince but once he manages to open his eyes, he checks for messages and missed calls. 

apart from one missed call from george and one from jamie, there’s nothing. 

nothing from her. 

not one message. 

the last message he’s sent to her sits at read—it’s nothing special, just the address to the pub they were going to meet at. and then… yeah, matty remembers how well that went. 

he remembers the last look on her face before she stormed off. 

then it’s just a fog.

his throat feels clogged, his eyes sting but no tears come. matty just lays there, curled up like a pathetic worm, clutching his pillow until seconds or minutes or hours later george re-enters his room. 

“right, come on,” he flings the covers off matty, making him feel a sudden draft of cold air. “i’m not getting you breakfast in bed, mate. you’re hungover, not an invalid.”

“‘m not hungry,” matty mumbles. his voice is hoarse and his throat hurts—probably the vomiting—but it’s nothing in comparison to his head. a delayed realisation hits him that he never took the painkillers. 

george huffs. “don’t be a diva.” and if matty had any strength he would absolutely be offended by that. then again maybe george doesn’t know the full extent of last night. 

“seriously george—”

“matty. you’re going to get out of bed and come to the kitchen. we are going to eat and then we are going to talk about last night.”

well… there goes that. a stubborn side of him wants to be an absolute ass and dig his feet in. say all sorts of mean things to george just so he’d leave. but isn’t that what got him here in the first place? he really isn’t in the position to hurt more people in his life. 

like a small child matty drags his feet the entire way to the kitchen, turning his nose up at the food on the table. (even though it looks really good and his stomach does growl now that he can smell the food) george doesn’t egg him on any further. he just motions to the chair and slides a mug of coffee in front of him.

“you said what?” 

it’s the eerily calm edge to george’s voice that makes matty shrink in his seat. he does feel better with some food in his stomach, physically at least. but the way george stares at him—eyes cold, lips pressed in a thin line—makes him feel sick to his stomach all over again. 

“i said– i– i said it was the first of april, i told her it was a joke.” his voice is a pathetic whisper, words drowned by shame and guilt and self-hatred. matty wishes he could go back in time and undo it all. he won’t say any of it. 

he won’t even touch the wine in the first place. 

“right after you said i love you.”

“yeah.”

“huh.”

easy for george to say that. it’s not his love life blowing up in his face right now. matty stabs the tomato next to his half-eaten toast, watching it spill its guts onto the plate. red. just like last night. 

he remembers that part of it. 

“what happened after? how did i… get home?”

george goes a bit silent for a second, not meeting matty’s eyes which sets alarm bells ringing in his head. 

“do you really not remember?”

when matty shakes his head, george just sighs and then softly says her name. “she called charli, crying a lot and i figured something went down. i called you–don’t you remember that?” when matty’s blank face gives him the answer, george continues, “you sounded really awful like… you were gasping for breath. i could barely understand you. so i thought i’d pick you up and get you home. i’m glad i did.”

in all of this the only part matty focuses on is her. and that she called charli crying a lot. of course, he thanks george but it’s only half-hearted, distracted. he can’t get the image of it out of his mind—her sobbing on the other end of the phone, barely able to get a word out. it breaks his heart all over again. 

he did that. 

this is all his fault. 

“matty… you have to make it right.”

that’s the biggest problem of it all—he doesn’t know how. what is he supposed to do, call her up and say: hey, so you know how i drunkenly said i love after which i assumed you looked at me with disgust and then i said it was all a joke and you stormed off? well it was not a joke i am seriously in love with you and i don’t know what happens to our friendship after this. 

yeah. there’s no way to put it any better. 

so he just nods. at least, that way he doesn’t have to answer to george right now. he’s figure out a way to do it later, once he doesn’t feel like a raisin. he’ll figure out a proper plan, build up the courage to call her. 

for now matty can only swallow the rest of the now-lukewarm coffee and hope that he can just sleep the rest of the day off. 

for three days after that, his messages stay on delivered. 

it’s a harrowing process, to pick up his phone and dial her number only for it to go to voicemail after the second ring. almost like she’d stabbed her thumb on the glaring red reject button. 

all his messages went unanswered too. all the—

hey

can we talk please?

please!

i just want to say sorry 

just hear me out

—all of them ignored, like all his other efforts to reach her through her friends. 

day four charli shows up at his doorstep, face twisted in a scowl, eyes like embers ready to singe him if he stepped one toe out of line, mayhem in tow. 

the puppy is his last straw. the fact that she sent mayhem back with charli instead of dropping him off herself… matty doesn’t even want to think what that means for him. for them. 

he mumbles a quiet “thanks” to charli, afraid of speaking anything louder. 

“if it weren’t for george—” she starts and swallows, as if she’s literally swallowing her anger. “nevermind. forget about it.”

and then she leaves him standing at his doorstep like a loser, mayhem’s leash in hand. 

much later he realises that the collar is different now, it’s no longer the slightly frayed old brown collar from before. this one is new. 

this one is green. a green that matches her hair… 

the thought of it makes his throat clog up with tears once again. when had she even had the time to go buy him a new collar? one to match her hair so perfectly? was it before or after he fucked up? matty scratches mayhem behind his ears who lets out a soft little whine and nuzzles him in return. maybe the puppy is sad too, maybe mayhem prefers being with her instead of being with him. 

the next few days he spends like a pig in a pigsty, surrounded by his own filth of food cartons and cigarette butts and coke cans. he makes it a mission to call her once every day—all of them go unanswered anyway so what’s the point?

by the time the seventh of april rolls around, matty doesn’t even bother thinking about his birthday anymore—there’s no pointing in celebrating it, he’s not even in the mood right now. one failed celebration is enough.

his friends, of course, have a whole different plan in mind. 

jamie shows up at his house the evening of the seventh, not ready to take no for an answer. it’s just a small dinner, he says, only friends and family. (matty knows that’s not true, knows it’s going to be a whole surprise party) but every “no” is met with a gentle refusal to accept it and so ultimately, he gives in and dresses up in his cleanest, least sad shirt. the one that least screams “i took my first shower of the week today”. 

jamie, to his credit, tries engaging him in conversation. matty, to his credit, tries not to answer in one syllable words. it gets exhausting real quick though, so they end up spending the rest of the car ride in silence.

everything that happens after is a blur in his mind—the pub looks ordinary from the outside, inconspicuous. everyone yells “surprise!” much like he predicted. matty smiles, cheery and fake. someone hands him a drink, which he tries to refuse but the person is too far away to hear him over the music now. his stomach roils at the thought of being in another pub, in the middle of another birthday party. 

he just wants to go home and curl up onto his bed and never move again. 

except…

matty’s heart stops when he spots a green head. 

he blinks rapidly, about to rub his eyes to make sure he didn’t hallucinate. maybe there are drugs in the air, maybe the (untouched) drink in his hands is actually spiked. 

but the green head moves and she steps away from behind george, a glass of some dark cocktail in her hands and her eyes trained on him. matty staggers to a stop, about to drop the glass in his hands. 

“hey…” her voice is hesitant, unsure when she first walks up to him. from behind her, george throws matty a look, his brow raised as if to say one chance, matty. better make it right.

of all the things that have happened today, this… this is the real surprise. 

matty stands there like an idiot, tongue-tied and wide-eyed, unable to come up with a simple “hi”.

“should we… uh, head outside?” it’s when she points vaguely behind her, to the smoking area, that he realises just how loud it is inside. the consistent beat of the song thumps through his chest, making him feel more anxious than ever. in a daze, he nods and then dutifully follows her outside. 

as soon as the door to the smoking area closes behind him, she whirls around, arms crossed in front of her chest, brows knit in an indecipherable expression. “talk.”

oh.

well, that’s what he had said to her hadn’t he? in all the text messages he had sent. that he just wants to talk. he just wants one chance. and now that the chance is here, his mouth's as dry as a desert. 

“i was… an idiot, no forget that, i was a real cunt to you. just like you said, i’m so sorry for the awful shit i said, i…” his words come out stilted and awkward. he has no idea where he’s going with this, he only knows he needs to earn her forgiveness somehow. 

even if he has to get on his knees. 

“i got drunk an–and cruel and said things i didn’t mean—”

“what things?”

“w-what?” 

“the things you didn’t mean,” she clears her throat, “what things were they? the part where you said i love you or–or the part where you said it was all a joke?”

matty’s insides feel like jelly all over again. it’s like he’s back where he was a week ago—just a boy, standing in front of the girl he loves, about to say the stupidest thing in the world. 

“well?”

“i didn’t mean it as a j–joke.” his voice comes out as a cowardly whisper, high pitched and barely audible. that’s no way to say the things he really wants to say! 

gathering all his courage, matty steps closer to her. to his utter surprise, she doesn’t step away. 

“it wasn’t a joke, what i said to you. i—” he chokes, nervously running a hand through his hair, wondering what the slight widening of her eyes means out of the million possibilities his brain’s already conjured up. 

“i know i was drunk and barely making sense but i meant it… i meant all of it.”

slowly, she uncrosses her arms, letting them dangle at her sides. the crease between her brows relaxes too. suddenly, it’a her taking a step forward until they’re toe-to-toe and she has to tilt her chin up to look him in the eyes. the moonlight shines bright on her face, the glitter gleams on her eyelids, and for a moment matty is completely awestruck. 

how is he meant to find words when she leaves him so completely tongue-tied?

“and what’s ‘it’, huh?”

the faint ringing in his ears starts up all over again and music from inside the pub floats through the walls, mellowed and somehow peaceful. this is it, he thinks. he fucked it up once, he absolutely cannot do it again. 

“i meant i… i love you. not as a friend. i mean n-no, of course, i love you as a friend but i also meant it as something more. not that you have to reciprocate! i just–it’s just what i feel—”

the rest of his words die on his lips. get cut off by someone else’s lips more like it. her lips. against his. 

matty’s eyes resemble wide saucers until her arms wrap around him, fingers tangling into his hair. her nails brushing against his scalp is what makes his body relax and suddenly matty’s kissing her back. 

tenderly, he holds her cheek, tucking away stray hair behind her ear. his other hand rests on her waist, too hesitant to grip her tightly but too scared to just let go. as if once he lets go of her, she’ll float away, far away from him again, out of his reach. matty’s sure she can feel his heart hammering in his chest. he’s not super proud of it but the kiss makes him forget all about being embarrassed. 

the feel of her tongue lighting teasing his lips is all that matters. 

she makes a sound at the back of her throat, almost a… moan and pulls away abruptly, looking shy all of a sudden. 

matty touches his lips with trembling fingers. 

“was that too—”

“are you joking?!” if he though his voice was breathy before, it has nothing on what he sounds like now. the sound that comes out of him is hoarse, like he’s struggling to breathe and it’s making him feel dizzy. the good kind of dizzy. “so i fucked up, majorly, might i add! and i get rewarded with a kiss?!”

she giggles, all anger from before melting away right in front of his eyes. “it was more to shut you up honestly, you would have been here all night. rambling.”

for the first time in a week, matty can finally breathe, can finally feel the blood in his veins flow again. for the first time in a week, matty feels like a person again. “it wasn’t a reward. just because you’re pretty and a good kisser doesn’t mean i’ll forgive you so quickly.” 

matty grins, “you think i’m pretty?” and promptly gets punched in the arm.

it takes them a moment to stop giggling, but when they finally sober up, she turns serious again. “seriously though, matty, it hurt me a lot, what you did. i think… i think i can set it aside for tonight but i’m going to need some time to figure things out. 

matty nods. of course, he knows the impact his words must have had. shame and guilt blooms deep within him, strong and acrid. 

“don't forgive me yet, love. forgive me when i earn it. forgive me when you think i’m worthy of it.”

when she kisses him again, it’s deeper than the last time. her entire body is pressed against his, so warm and soft in arms, exactly like he’s imagined countless times before. he can’t stop himself—can’t stop him from finally holding onto her waist, hand sliding down to her ass. can’t stop himself from pushing her back till her back hits the wall and a soft gasp leaves her mouth. every nerve ending in his body is on hyperdrive. everywhere she touches, electricity zings through him. 

matty slides his tongue in her mouth, pulling on her bottom lip with his teeth and soothing the sting away with his tongue. every time he feels her shiver, matty presses further into her. he just wants more and more and more—more than he can do here and now on this balcony. 

all his friends are inside for fucks sake. 

“you can start now,” she teases, smiling roguishly against his mouth. “you’d look quite nice on your knees, i think.”

blood simmers under his skin, rushing south all at once and this time it’s matty who shivers, struggling to stand upright. 

“yeah? that what you want, sweetheart?”

“take me home, please,” she says. and matty agrees in a heartbeat. 

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Matty rolled his body off of hers, landing in the place right next to her. He panted for breath, staring up at the ceiling, sweat dripping down the sides of his body. “That….was…amazing” he blushed, laughing. “Some of our best work.” He added, “and that’s saying a lot cuz…we’ve had some memorable moments.”

She sat up, slowly, and winked at him. “Wanted to make your birthday special.”

“Everything I’ve ever done with you’s special.”

There was a moment of silence. She let his words hang heavy in the air, making a point of ignoring them.

“I got you a present!” She reached over to the nightstand, pulling the drawer open and finding his birthday gift. “Go on, open it.”

“Here? Now?”

“Yeah, I wanna see the look on your face.”

Matty had a pretty good idea what it was. But that still didn’t make it any less funny when he unwrapped the record and saw that it was Rick Astley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up.” He chuckled loudly. “Just what I needed”

It had become something of a tradition, an inside joke between them, over the years. Started out silly, when they were together. Neither of them really remembered how, but the song came on one day, and they danced to it, playfully, joking about how they’d want it at their wedding one day. From then on, it stuck. And she took it to the next level by gifting him this record on more than one occasion. He now has various copies of it in different formats. On this occasion, though, he couldn’t help but find it a tad ironic, maybe even cruel, given that she did give him up. Still, he’d take anything that he can get from her. “Thank you, my love.” He kissed her.

“Happy birthday, Matty.”

He put aside his gift, pulling himself closer to her “ready for a second round?”

“Yeah, are YOU ready for a second round? We kinda went hard just now.” She struggled to hide the laugh in her voice.

Matty rolled his eyes. “Is that supposed to be a snide comment about my age?”

“I mean, sure. You’re geriatric now. 35 years old.”

“Geriat- I beg your fuckin pardon?” He hovered over her. “You know, just for that….im gonna fuck you until the sun comes up. Until you can’t stand up on your own two legs.”

Her giggles echoed through the room. It worked. She had him right where she wanted him.

***

When her breathing had finally mellowed, she reached for him with shaky hands, pulling his face up, and off of her heaving chest, where his sweaty cheek had glued to her breasts, and caressed his face. He looked tired. They were both officially spent. She leaned forward, kissing him sleepily. “I love you, Matty.” She whispered.

Matty’s eyes shot wide open. Suddenly, a jolt of electricity awoke something within him, he was no longer on the verge of passing out. “Wha- what? Did you just say - You….love me??”

“Matty-“

“You love me.” He repeated.

Shit. She’d fucked up. Perhaps letting him know wasn’t the sweet and intimate moment that she’d imagined in her mind. “Let’s not do this, okay?”

“No, no. I heard you. You said that. I heard it. you love me.” Matty wished he’d felt joy or relief or something akin to satisfaction at her confession. But all he felt was profound grief.

“yeah and? Why are you acting so surprised anyway….”

He sat up straight. Rubbing her eyes. This was going to be a long night.

“Ummm….how about….because it’s been two years? Because you were the one who ended it. You broke up with me? Because…when you did it, you said you no longer felt anything for me? Now you say you love me?!”

“C’mon, Matty. Surely you didn’t think any of that was true…” she spoke softly, but only because the lump in her throat made it difficult for her to match his volume.

“I- begged you!” He reminded her. “And you walked away. I was willing to do anything. I said — I’d do anything. How- how many times since then have I pleaded with you to give me another chance? You always said that sex was the only thing that we ever got right. So- yes, I’m sorry, if I fuckin believed you.” Matty looked down at his chest. The red lines that her nail scratches had left all over his body were proof that they did get the sex part right, at least. “You said you fell out of love with me. And - and I believed it.”

She shook her head, tears running down her face. “You’re stupid.” She whispered. “How could you be so stupid? I- I only did that because I had to.”

“Had to?”

“Our relationship was killing you slowly. And- I knew you were never going to be the one to leave first. So-“

“So you took it upon yourself to do it for me?!!!!” He half yelled, running his hand through his hair and pulling at it painfully.

“Oh, don’t you look at me like that! Don’t act like that’s crazy. I saw how much your work matters to you. You were killing yourself trying to dedicate your entire being to both your job and to our relationship. You were trying to will yourself into splitting in half. I didn’t want to do it to you anymore.”

He laughed in disbelief, shaking his head. “Fuckin ridiculous.” He looked into her eyes. “Absolutely ridiculous.” He mulled it over in his head for another quick moment. “That’s absurd.”

She burst into tears, and it killed him to see her cry.

“I- didn’t know. I thought you didn’t love me anymore. I thought I wasn’t good enough for you.” His own tears threatened to spill from the corners of his eyes. “If I’d known….i wouldn’t have let you go. I would’ve tried harder.”

He sniffled, reaching out to wipe her tears from her face. “Baby, please don’t cry. I hate to see you cry….”

“Can you please kiss me?” She asked, her cheeks still wet with tears.

Birthdays are one of the things Matty has enjoyed most since he was a kid. It's not just the fact of seeing all the people he wants in one place or the gifts he receives, although obviously that's also a plus for the basis, but the most important reason boils down to another: Matty has learned to celebrate being alive, to have a day, or a year more to live.

Maybe for the same reason, one of the environments Matty is best known for could be at parties. He always gathers endless crowds inside the walls of his house, always ends up being crazy between the amount of mess he has to clean up afterwards and the mess he has to take care of while they dance drunk on the tables and sing without being able to stop.

He has never considered himself a person of few friends, but he doesn't think he has a huge amount either because he's had to leave a lot of people behind. He has the necessary ones to be good with himself and with them, his presence does not suffocate them and they know how to understand him even when he cannot control himself and impulsivity controls him. But he's calm, he always is.

Of course, he now finds himself in a situation where many people entering his house are unknown to him because they are companions of his friends, or acquaintances of them. And God, Charli gathered a crowd in here. He recognizes them because he believes he went to high school with one or two, the few years he attended before deciding to miss an exam to go to a music festival.

Entities mix because he fails to recognize among low-profile, famous or just known people who have found out. In a way, it feels a bit like a party I'd throw if I was 18 and walked out of a Santbury's with several bottles in my hand and on my head. But it is not, because he is 35 and is in the middle of going through his thirties crisis.

Although now he deduces that none of it matters to him. He's much better than fine. He has gone from having the weight of a feather to getting stronger and seeing its fruits after many months without stopping at the gym. It has healed in all senses: broken heart, mental frailty, bad habits and addictions. Or at least in most of them, because he still smokes and still drinks alcohol, but at least now he equates it with something else and knows he can control it better. It's not entirely perfect, it could never be because that's metaphorically what the human being represents: a canvas that looks beautiful, beautiful and honest until you see the poorly made brushstrokes, over and over again until a result bulges.

"Hey, come to the kitchen." George awakens him from his thought with a touch. Matty leaves the beer can half-open on a shelf in the living hallway.

Then they arrive in the kitchen amidst a tumult of people that opens up in their path. The open backyard door is a plus because it's a good place to get some cold air and realize that he's lost a lot of stability and composure after several beers and a few more shots.

Ross is leaning on the recently acquired white marble countertop, as he opens a bottle of Don Perignon and the foam splashes over the top of the bottle. With quick movements, he pulls seven glasses from the shelf, and fills them to distribute later.

"Let's toast in honor of Matty, because it's his birthday and we love him. And we are incredibly proud of him." Ross cheers, while everyone raises their glasses. Charli applauds with the palms of his hands, and everyone knows that he has lost his mind. Matty smiles as much for that last act as for what his friend has just said, it's really an honest smile and full of feeling though he may not be able to prove it now.

Everyone toast, and then Carly pulls out of her purse a digital camera to capture the moment in eternity. They take a selfie together: George, Matty, Ross, Adam, Carly, Charli, and Chloe. Then there are some spontaneous ones between the four guys, the girls and one of each of them with Matty.

"Oh, my boys. I love all of you so much. You are the best on my life, really." It's finally Matty drinking the champagne out of his glass. Feel the golden bubbling liquid falling down your throat. "Thanks for everything you've done for me throught this years, forever."

When the conversation becomes that emotional tone that always happens on birthdays, it is also the moment when the bubble of intimacy breaks and everyone leaves that state.

"Hey I'm sorry, but there's not more ice." A woman's voice sounds from the frame of the kitchen, but Matty can't recognize her even when he looks at her with a frown.

"Oh! Now I'll bring more, thank you darling." Matty answers almost automatically as if he had given up control of his head. Actually the words are leaking out of her mouth but it's nothing too worrying yet, and she hopes it stays that way. "Some of you know who is?" He receives negative responses after the restlessness and sighs sillylyly laughing. "Thanks for all, friends."

A song by the Backstreets Boys begins to ring through the speaker in the living room and resonates between all the divisions of the house. Taking advantage of the commotion and celebration about it all he leaves the kitchen and disperses. Matty searches for a bag of ice from the fridge, breaks the wrapper with scissors and takes it to the main table where he places it in the fountain designed to keep the cold.

When he crosses the center of the dance floor, many people greet him and flatter him, giving him little shouts of love or complete sobriety, and more than one even asks him to dance for a few moments.

For a moment he manages to put away the idea of how he is the only one in his group of friends who has no one, which becomes more raw when he sees too many couples kissing on his couch, also generates a bit of disgust but he doesn't want to feel like a snob. He did the same thing and doesn't know when he stopped doing it but he understands the adrenaline generated by kissing someone when you're drunk and hot in public spaces, even if it's a pretty adolescebte attitude.

He takes his beer from where he left off and goes on. They have all built long-lasting relationships or are in the process, which makes sense for the age that passes.

He's okay with that, too. Yeah, logically, he´d like to have someone to dance together right now and then sneak out to enjoy a moment alone. Intertwining his hands with someone and having someone fixed to wake up with every morning while the smell of coffee runs through the room. He wants it the same way people who don't have it do, but he thinks he needs a break now.

Her last love attempts have gone overboard, and further down. They have simply come out disastrously and reject the idea that he wants to have for love: it all ends in silly discussions about mundane and monotonous everyday things that make up a ball that explodes, then everything weakens and the routine too tiresome. He wanted to live in the madness with which he used to live love in his 20s, where there was no fear of the future and only the expectation of living in the present.

Remember that frenzy of love when he was a teenager, when it is the purest love you contemplate inside you, when the barrier of who is going to judge you and the responsibilities are inhibited and you just go drunk with love walking down the streets arriving at the door with different flowers every day. He wants to love and get it right this time, obviously, but he doesn't want the person he leaves his legacy with abruptly taking away the magic of love Matty once had.

By the same token, he takes care of letting it flow. He's not waiting for anyone and he's hoping that things will just get better. She doesn't know if her future is to love someone and make it work, but she doesn't give up hope.

"I'm going to smoke, just in case." He says, when he sees Carly near him. He knows she's the one he can trust most because she's the most sober and the least alcoholic.

"Stay safe, Matty. Hope I won't have to look for you." She approaches him and kisses him on the cheek in an act of love, something like a motherly love. Even though she's only a little older than him, since she's with Adam she considers Matty to be completely special to her, and she loves him as much as she literally loves her children.

He says goodbye to her and walks to find the back door sneaking around. He looks the place and he see that there are really not so many people huddled together in the same place as they are scattered. The courtyard is huge, after the cement floor the grass extends along perhaps half a kilometer, where in the middle there is a swimming pool, and in the width there are some palm trees that accompany it. In the background there is a gate that leads to a construction connected to the house, but for which Matty is not responsible.

He looks for a place under the palm tree, the breeze that the leaves cause as they move embraces him at dawn. It's funny to him, he sneaks away just like he did all his life at these kinds of events, punctually on his birthday. He loves people and loves being with them, but at some point he needs to isolate himself from that same environment and have air to himself.

He fiddles with the lighter between his fingers passing it from hand to hand until he decides to pull a mentholed cigarette out of the pocket of his black leather bomber.

"Matty?" A whisper of the wind reaches his ears, although he does not know where it comes from, he acknowledges that there are not so many people who call themselves that.

He hears footsteps on freshly cut grass and hears crackling under his shoes. The only light out there comes from a curtain of lights hooked to the grill, so it's pretty dark.

But then a female presence appears in front of him. He really does nothing but admire her and for once his eyes run out of the cylinder he is about to light.

The two look into each other's eyes, Matty feels his whole life is passing before his eyes and is afraid he's having a concussion, or he's having a stroke. It doesn't make sense for her to be here in front of him after all these years.

"y/n?" He dares to ask. He doesn't have anyone around to confirm his presence there so he hopes he's not too drunk to hallucinate and hopes he's really on the physical plane. "I'm sorry, it's just…wow." Her tongue catches the words as her head runs a thousand miles after seeing her nod to get out of her trance.

"Isn't it?" With every word the past moves down the earth for both him and her. Too many, too many layers of memories that were left behind many years ago now threaten to float as if they could seep through the holes in the green ground.

There is a prolonged silence for a few seconds. Actually, nobody knows what to say because everything seems like a fantasy about to be pricked with a pin and nobody wants to go beyond that.

Matty's looking at her. She has always had that carefree but wrinkled profile and he recognizes her under the black dress sleeveless dress glued to her body and the hair cut on her shoulder, with the last minute scissors marks and something uneven. She complements it with high-cane boots, something like the ones she defined as her favorites too long ago. She still has that sparkle she had when she was a teenager, she's still incredibly beautiful without asking. He looks at her surprised that she's here, grateful to see her once more. He can't stop thinking about it, but she's really radiant.

She looks at him. He has changed a lot from the superficial, his hair is now almost shaved, only with hints of hair growing on his entrances. She doen't need to inquire to know that his fitness owes it to the gym, even under his jacket she can see how well marked are his muscles compared to the little skinny teenager she met a long time ago. The expression on his face did not change, if he looks into his eyes he still finds the frightened child because he does not know if things will turn out well, but also the child waiting for his mother after school to give her a hug. She has a white T-shirt that's stuck to her body and her tattoos are transparent. She looks at him impressed.

"Hey." He breaks the silence by speaking softly but with total softness. She smiles at him without showing her teeth and Matty feels something rising up her body. "What are you doing here?"

He is lying against a palm tree, she is standing nearby but neither wants to move into the position of the other, there is some barrier that prevents it and possibly it is discomfort.

"I'm the babysitter of my sister and her friends, they are your brother's friends." She anwers by returning the tone of calm. "In fact, I found out today."

"Wait, really?" He answers, and for a moment the atmosphere seems to disappear only because he is seeing everything through it. "But Louis is not there." He shrubs his shoulders.

"Yes, I noticed that. I guess he told the others in some nonsense conversation." She analyzes how he hasn't lit a cigarette since he arrived. "Are you going to turn it on or?"

Matty feels like a fool. "Do you continue smoking?" Ask without a second thought. He just wants to know what's in her life now. "Sorry, what about my maners, do you want one?

"No, but I'll share one just for the old times." She smiles at him again, and he mentally keeps the memory of how the burgundy color highlights the cheekbones of the white skin of the woman in front of him.

"Do you want to sit?"

"I'm alloweed to?" Matty is restless under such a formal tone and considers that the passage of the years now takes its points.

"Of course." Now he's the one smiling at her. "Are you still in the same job?

She laughs slowly, refuses with her head a bit apart. "God, no. I work in a notary's office now, but I'm more comfortable." She answers, he opens his lips in surprise, a whistle escapes from her lips. "May I suggest why are you here and not inside dancing with the others?" She asks with some shyness as she approaches to sit down, without doing so facing or beside him, as at an angle of seventy-five.

"Maybe you know the answer. It hasn't changed." He answerd and when he feels that he is drowning in too much of the past, he lights the cigarette. He pauses and takes a drag.

"You still get loneliness sometimes." She reasons, he nods with a look of pity and gave her the cigarette. "I really didntt know this was your house."

"It's quite different from the old porch, it doesn't have a loft with a balcony or red tiles either, but i like it." He sighs embracing the melancholy that escapes from his bone structure. "How did you get here?

"My friend was dizzy from so many people and then I lost her because of a child." She laughs wryly. "I started walking and then I reached the palm tree, and maybe I understood the host of the party."

"¿Yes?"

"How many people do you know whose birthday is April 8th, Matty?" She stares at him with direct intent. He flies in the nebula. She remembers her birthday.

"You still remember it." He has a smile that runs through his face from end to end, he feels satisfied with the interaction, whatever it takes. She leaves the cigar in her hand and the touch makes him shake.

Matty's head is about to fall apart. He himself sees how his vision becomes twofold, one leaving him in reality under the palm tree, and the other teleporting him 22 years ago to a rather similar place.

It's autumn, the leaves of the trees turn yellow and fall to the ground. There's a breeze but it's not cool or threatening, it's friendly. Matty's eighteen now, he's of age.

On the other side of the race to see who gets to the pile of leaves first, there's her. She's dressed as simple as if she'd just gotten up, the blue skinny jeans and a black shirt with a print of some band scratched by the number of times she's washed. They're both older, but running down the alleys of New Castle looks like they're 12 still.

The muddy shoes, their coats that shelter them both, her bracelet tied to his hand, the kiss on the cheek when greeting each other, the butterflies every time they look at each other. The celebration of walking, the adrenaline of winning the race to the leaves and rolling in them.

Matty abandons everything else, leaving behind the nightmares, his parents' parties and sleepless nights when he has her. He's happy with her, he feels protected and nothing can hurt him. He loves her, with all his heart. He's eighteen, newly grown, wears glasses that slip on the tip of his nose but make him look smart. It has some protruding pimples between the cheek and forehead, but in sunlight it still looks like a baby's skin, fragile to the touch.

He doesn't know when he fell so in love with her, he doesn't know when he found the connection and when it began to appear in his innermost dreams. He couldn't stop thinking about her and all her dreams, the dress she wore on her birthday, the hug after the holidays. Every touch gives Matty years to live, and although he's been a sad kid for most of his life, he'll always be grateful that she changed that.

"You are eighteen, you can run fast." She says in a competitive tone, without slowing down.

"I will win, idiot." He's self-proclaimed.

"And if you do, what will you get? A painful coronation as king of the leaves." She jokes and throws herself headfirst on the leaves of the ground. "I told you."

But Matty was willing to win.

"I already decided my prize." Vitorea approaching the leaves, diving into them.

"You didn't wi-"

Matty doesn't think about what's going on, he just lets the impulse take him further and control him. It may be his only chance, and it may ruin it, but he have to try before he let any more time pass.

She is in shock on the leaves when she feels the lips of Matty on top of hers. She doesn't understand what's happening, or if it's really happening. The only thing she remembers afterwards is feeling Matty's hand squeezing her cheek with soft caresses. He kisses as much as he can, and after a while she gets used to the movement.

They go on like this, without saying a word for many minutes. Their sequence and their need is to kiss until the lack of breath wakes them up, smile with their noses stuck and merge again. Maty tastes like mint and chocolate, so it's the flavor she'll love the most for the next two years. Teenagers at the height of their purest love.

"Didn't I tell you? I would win." Matty comments when both feel they have shared too much saliva, but he does not take his hand off her cheek.

The wind is blowing in both heads. They have never known love this way, and they will remember it so well for the years that this love lasts, and for a few more.

Actually, and though Matty doesn't know it yet, she, sitting in Matty's house, is thinking about the same fall of memories. She feels like she's about to die and the best years and moments of her life go by, they've always had that facility of telepathic connection without having to try. Also because, for a long time, it was the memory they most enjoyed in years.

Matty then sees, in his memories, everything he's longed for for so many years. Midnight getaways, intense kissing at nightclubs, family meals, she dressed in him on Sundays, family trips, snow wars with her kisses sunk in the snow. He sees fireworks now that he remembers her, how he was first in everything for her and how she has marked him even more than he can say.

After that comes the band, and even before and after the previous names. But he focuses on when the band is already confirmed as Drive Like i Do and then like 1975, he sees her sitting at the table listening to them rehearsing, he sees heer at the clubs drinking beer and screaming crazy when he comes out in his most misaligned ensemble.

Matty may never have said it like that, but the girl he fell in love with is part of the band just like them. Almost the entire first album has its muse, in each of the stanzas and in each of the notes of the compass. She has followed him for all these years, it has been his greatest point of inspiration and of genuine and re-created love. She has given him the best years when he was twenty, he has written the songs he enjoys most thanks to her.

But equally, to say that he hasn't forgotten her or that he's remembered her like that for fifteen years without seeing her since she left in her twenties, would be lying. He remembered her for years, but then he was no longer present in her mind.

She can't judge him. Maybe she waited longer, but she had to move on anyway.

But it's okay, they existed at the time they had what. They learned enough from each other to remember each other fondly.

"You think about that autumn too, didn't? "During all this trance, the connection has become stronger. The discomfort is ignored, and she ends up sitting next to him.

"You are inside my mind, literally." He laughs with his eyes full of glass. He just had a recession that knocked him down. "Yes, I thought about it."

"That autumn was the best of my life. The fucking golden time." She confesses, with the moon now fully reflecting her. He looks at her with a longing smile, he also misses feeling so complete. "I have loved you for so many years and I think I could do it for more."

She complains hugging herself. Matty leaves the previous state and now the alcohol seems to have lost its effect. He extends his hand to put it behind the brunette girl's back and draw her in. The woman's head rests on his chest.

"I have loved you too, you know? The first album is about you." He kisses her hair, but she can't help but cry. They are breaking up with each other next to them and that's why they prefer not to be seen. It's too strong for both. "I'm sorry."

"What do you mean?" She looks up. The brown eyes meet the eyes of the british man.

"I-I screwed up that June afternoon, and I carried the blame for many years. I've never really been able to apologize, and I know the last thing you got from me was a horrible argument. I'm sorry, it won't fix something so many years later, but it's sincere." He manages to loosen a gear that has been weighing on him for a long time. He finds serenity in the brightness of the moon, and though he knows he can't go back in time, when she intertwines his hands he thinks he hasn't gone too far.

"Thank you for that. I know it's your party, but you don't have to cry to the end." She kisses his cheek and wipes his tears with her fingernails painted dark red, then returns to his neck. She repents and prefers to sit in front of him. "But it was true, wasn't it? Did you fuck everybody in this town?" She asks, without any resentment or sense of judgment.

"You compromised me, honey." He nods nervously accompanied by a laugh. In fact, he's still crying, but he's feeling much better. More airy, more connected and more peaceful. "I missed the car and the argument."

The two laugh at each other, it's an atmosphere that has now become more comfortable than ever. She has got her makeup destroyed by tears and he is s getting water marks through the seams of his shirt.

"The end of that hallway was fateful." She ironizes it with a recharged energy that dances inside. It feels as if she is now the final part of a song that breaks the melody and raises the instruments to a higher level to close it in the greatest ecstasy. "Even so, maybe you were right a few years ago. You needed more than me." She points to itself and then points to the atmosphere.

"Sorry, I don't get it." He feels bewitched by her words, but is so deep inside that he can't even think about what she's saying.

He just knows she comes, again. He sees her crawling and crawling up to his lap. He's afraid that this will still be a bad trick in his head and that tomorrow she'll never have been here. She'll be in another country, with someone else, and without him. His heart pumps like it has seldom done.

He knows they're soul mates, or he used to know, and now he's reconfirming it. Now there's only one thing that separates them and one thing that could bring them together.

"You needed a cigarette, alcohol and a sad conversation." She finally answers, as she settles down to her mercy on his lap. Matty feels like he has a fever when he feels the back of her palm on his face. It's been floating for over 15 minutes. "As i do."

After this, it just happens.

After 15 years, they're kissing in Matty's backyard. The two cry in between, because they haven't recovered from the emotional delirium they just had, but the fireworks they once had at eighteen come back the second their lips touch.

He hasn't changed, Matty still smells like chocolate and mint. She neither, she tastes the same as always does, she still tastes well enough to satiate Matty. They remain exactly the same for each other and what they still need.

The kiss does not have a taste to be described by or a unique feeling. It is the taste of remembrance and reunion, of melancholy, of adolescence, it is pure nostalgia in its splendor. It tastes like sadness, the tears of the last time they argued, and in turn it tastes as the ice cream they ate holding hands in the park, the chocolate they always gave each other as a gift. It tastes as Christmas food and the summer breeze. It's all together in one, and that's why they don't bother to feel sorry for how the waterfalls in the eyes accumulate coming down later.

A kiss, that's all. Matty doesn't want to think, but he inevitably does and finds only two options.

Tomorrow you will both remember this and you will both retire by lowering your guard and remember it as a secret. There is no one around to prove the presence and existence of the woman he has there, no one has seen her and the easiest excuse is to say that he simply confused everything with someone else because of the amount of beer. Or they could tempt fate and stay there, they could heal the wound and they could try again to have the best they ever had.

But now, does it matter?

"Hey." She puts pressure on his hair. He opens his eyes feeling fuller and more human than ever. "Happy birthday, Matty. The birthday boy always needs a gift."