𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐌𝐄 • Matty Healy

- 013

MATTY'S POV
29th January, 2010

Me and Dylan walked up to my bedroom, and I offered for her to sit down on my bed, remembering what she said about not wanting to sit on people's furniture if the didn't offer. I lay down on my back, and she lay next to me on her stomach.

"How was work?" I asked.

"Boring. It's always quiet on a Saturday."

"I thought that'd be a good thing."

"It is in the early morning, but then it just slowly gets really boring, sitting behind a counter and watching about three people sip coffee."

"You won't have to be doing that much longer."

"What? Why?"

"The band, stupid."

"Oh, right."

"You don't seem to have much faith."

"No, I do! I just- Sorry. Tired.

We continued to talk for a few hours, but it I noticed Dylan really wasn't herself at all.

"Are you okay?" I asked.

"Yeah, yeah."

I wanted to believe he'd, but her bottom lip was quivering and her eyes were glossy.

"Dylan," I said, my voice stern.

"l've been trying she really hard to keep it together," she admitted, "But everything's really shit right now."

I reached out and put my hand on her shoulder. She didn't flinch away.

"Why? What's the matter?"

"I just- I don't know. Jacob's an arse. He's always picking on me, and relying on mum and dad, and they just let him. I wonder if they'd do the same for me when I'm 23. He makes enough money but still mooches off them. Then there's Kane. Ever since we got back together all we've done is argue. It's shit. I'm in a shitty relationship, and I can't leave because I'm scared."

"Scared?" It was then that I realised Dylan's tears had wiped away some makeup from the side of her face and revealed a bruise. It was light, but fairly big. "Oh, Dylan. Did he-"

"He hit me. Smacked me right in the face. I can't even remember why. But what if I try and leave and he does something worse? You were right."

"About what?"

"On my birthday, it was him that gave me those bruises. He saw me downstairs with you, and he'd already warned me to stay away. I thought it was okay because we weren't alone, but apparently not. He grabbed my arms really hard, and he slammed me against the wall. He- I said sorry, and he said there were other ways to make it up to him, then started, like, kissing me."

"Dylan, did he-"

"No, but he said if he wanted to he could easily over power me, and he's right, and I'm really, really scared, Matty."

"Dylan, you've gotta leave him."

"It's hard."

"I know, love, I know, but that's the only thing that's gonna fix it. You don't have to do it right this second, but please. You know my house will always be open if you need to get away, and I'm sure the other lads and your other friends feel the same. Whatever you do, don't stay with him."

Dylan nodded. "I know, I'm gonna leave, I just- I need to figure it out. I love him, Matty."

"I know you do, and I don't wanna sound like George, but-"

"He doesn't love me. I know. I realised."

I smiled thinly, patting her shoulder. I looked down at my watch. "Ten minutes before the others are meant to get here."

"I need to clean up then."

I stood up from the bed and grabbed a pack of makeup wipes from one of my drawers and walked back over to Dylan. She sat up and I sat down in front of her, asking for permission before I brought the wipe to her face and wiped up the mascara from her eyes.

"Has all my makeup came off?" She asked.

"Mhm. I've got concealer in my drawer, though, don't worry."

"What about the other stuff?" I shook my head. "Fuck."

"You don't need to redo it, all we're doing is practicing some songs."

"I know, I just- I don't really like myself that much without it."

I sighed, bringing the wipe away to look at her now bare face. "You're very pretty, Dylan, nothing to worry about."

She smiled, making my heart honestly feel like it was growing. I internally scolded myself, remembering what I'd said about being a bad influence, a shit boyfriend, and everyone seemed to agree.

Stay away from Dylan. I reminded myself.

I threw the makeup wipe in the bin and grabbed my concealer and a blush.

"I didn't know you wore makeup," Dylan said.

"I don't," I said, "But I'm kind of prone to getting punched in the face."

"What? Why?"

"Macho guys think it's funny to hit the queerest looking one in the bar."

"Oh, Matty, I'm-"

"Well, that's only sometimes. Usually it's because I'm a dickhead."

Dylan laughed. I finished blending the concealer in and looked at her. You wouldn't even know there was a bruise there, or that she'd been crying. As I set everything back down, Dylan wrapped me in a hug. I hugged her back, but not for too long. As I pulled away, the doorbell rang, and I walked out of my bedroom to answer it, Dylan followed.

"Matty?" She said. I turned around.

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell George."

"I won't."

And I wouldn't. Not yet, anyway.