takes a bit more • matthew healy

xxxiv.) tremble

a/n: this chapter (and the next one)'s quite a heavy one, enjoy nevertheless xx

—

the two days were fucking dull without rhiannon.

and the two nights just consisted of getting hammered and falling asleep on the floor at every pub we find ourselves in.

it's only been two days.

two days, for fuck's sake. i feel like i'm going mad.

and to be frank, without coke, i believe i could go mad anytime soon.

withdrawal symptoms such as muscle pain and little tremors have been occurring in hours where i feel my worst. they have happened several times before however; that's the reason why i tend to relapse over and over.

it doesn't really last long, only a few minutes out of a day, but the one that lingers at the back of my head the most are the depressive thoughts trying to eat me alive and push me to the dark.

i have always known myself to be dark and fucked up in the head, although it had quite multiplied since my last dose.

i haven't felt this alone in ages.

everyone has been a bit distant with me, i noticed.

adam still hasn't talked much to me since finding me doing lines in the loo. ross has been quiet. john had to leave early from tour due to his brother being in the hospital. george and i talk though, especially after a show, and we had slept in the same mattress last night after passing out on tequila.

it's usually at night when i'm drunk where i miss rhiannon the most.

mostly when i'm alone.

that's when i cry. i cry when i need to. i cried last night during "is there somebody who can watch you", because it really is quite an emotional song, and i was drunk, and the fans seem to find pleasure in me crying during a song, and i was thinking about rhiannon and how much i fucking miss her.

i fucking miss her.

—

we arrive in manchester too early in the morning to do anything else but sleep. it's 3 in the morning and jamie is on the phone with the management about adding another day for the manchester show, and george and adam and ross are talking about visiting the flat to gather some things before we leave again after two days.

"you coming with, mate?" george turns to me.

i'm groggy over the alcohol the night before, but i nod my head. there's nothing left to do really.

we hail a cab to take us to the flat, and the surrounding area hasn't changed one bit; the lights in sainsbury's still look fluorescent and dull, roads are still under construction, and the cold 3am wind of manchester still reminds me of my younger years when i ran away from home to start a band.

manchester still looks sad to me in general. sad yet full of hope. something i don't quite have anymore.

—

upon arriving in our shitty flat in the third floor of the building, i make my way to my bedroom to pick up some new clothes.

although unconsciously i know it's my way of avoiding the lads while i try not to succumb to the feeling of another mental breakdown.

rhiannon hasn't messaged me that she had gone to bed, though i'm quite sure she had fallen asleep in the middle of our text conversation.

i don't want to wake her up at three in the morning, so i phone the next person i miss.