lostmyhead ( ✓ )

chapter one

"Matty, mate, you've got to wake up. We've got a sound check in less than an hour." George called to his best friend - and potential lover - who lay motionless in his bed. He wasn't dead, not yet at least, but he just didn't feel he had the strength to get up that day, having been exhausted from writing until the sun had risen that morning.

When Matty didn't immediately sit up, or even move, George walked further into Matty's room, which was typically off limits to everyone. George wasn't everyone, though. He was George. He was Matty's George, and he couldn't seem to recall a time in when he was not Matty's George. Matty was lying amongst the stiff sheets, still, staring at the white, cracked ceiling above him. For the briefest of seconds, George actually did believe Matty was dead, but then the smaller of the two blinked, and his chest began to rise and fall a bit more noticeably. Then, his light eyes drifted towards George's dark brown eyes slowly, carefully.

"I don't want to get up." He spoke, voice hoarse from not having drunk anything in the past twelve hours.

George sighed, taking a seat beside Matty once the curly haired man had sat up. His dark brown, curly hair seemed even more of a mess than it typically was. Immediately, George could tell Matty had been pulling at it again - an old habit of the older of the two.

"You've gotta get up, Matty. We need to go to soundcheck. Ross is there already, and I'm pretty sure Adam and John have gotten to the square as well. As usual, we're going to be late if you don't get out of bed now." He said sternly, leg brushing against Matty's hip affectionately.

"You just said they'd expect us to be late, George. I'm going to sleep. Go away." Matty said tiredly, turning to lie back down, but George was quick in hooking his one arm under Matty's legs as his other arm went to his back, lifting the shorter man out of his bed. The curly haired lad let out a whine at the loss of warmth from his blanket, but burrowed into George's build, less than slightly mad at his best friend.

George proceeded to carry Matty out of his bedroom and into the bathroom, making the boy sit on the edge of the bathtub as he went to fetch some clothes for him. If Matty had been the one to collect his own clothes, George could have guaranteed that Matty would not return from his room again for several hours. So, he went about grabbing Matty a pair of ripped, black skinny jeans and a white t-shirt. He grabbed Matty's black doc martens and carried the outfit to the bathroom, where Matty remained, head lolling against the tiled wall.

"Matty, mate, you've got to shower. I got your clothes, you can do the rest. I'll be in the kitchen. If I don't hear the water within the next three minutes, I will not hesitate to bathe you." George snapped when Matty failed to show any interest in his friend's clothing selection. Sure, maybe he was acting ridiculous, but he was tired and George was like - the best thing to ever happen to him, or something like that.

George left the bathroom then, heading to their shared flat's tiny kitchen, popping two sets of bread into the toaster.

~

Matty remained on the edge of the tub, staring at the outfit George had picked for him. It didn't seem complete to him, and he figured he'd maybe sneak into George's room before they left and grab his jean jacket. He really liked wearing George's clothes more than his own, but he'd never admit that. A whole one hundred and twenty seconds passed, and Matty knew if he didn't at least turn on the water, George would be back in the bathroom in under sixty seconds now. He turned on the hot water, letting it steam up the room as he undressed lazily. Just before stepping into the bath, he let a little bit of cold water run through the spout, though the hot water would still scald Matty's skin. And maybe that's what Matty needed now, something to make him feel something.