opia; matty healy.

38%

A/N: 2 chapters left after this whoops

Matty sent me the address to a café in the main centre of Sheffield. I know this because I googled the address to make sure we knew exactly where we were going. George and I sat in silence, at first discussing his whereabouts and the reasoning for it. I told him I didn't want to hear about Matty's Dad unless it was Matty telling me himself.

It was nerve wracking; I even found my foot tapping on the floor in front of me at times out of nervous habit. I knew he was fine, I'd called him and checked up on him via texts every now and then to make sure he was safe. I called Denise and she breathed a sigh of relief when I told her he was in Sheffield. I wish I could be there with her, to calm her down, as I'm sure she's nervously pacing or crying at this point.

I rush out of the car as soon as it stops out the front of the late night bakery, slamming the door behind me and rushing through the glass door. I spot Matty at a seat in the far corner, barely visible unless you're really looking. His black clothing blends into the background and I breathlessly rush over to him, watching him stand at the sound of my entrance.

The first thing I can think to do is wrap my arms around his neck, his arms instinctively wrapping around my waist and his mouth whispering soft "I'm sorry"'s over and over again. I count to thirty before letting him go, my hands on his shoulders and staring at him with complete confusion, awaiting an explanation.

"I'm sorry," he hangs his head, "I saw all your missed calls and I panicked."

I can see now that his eyes are bloodshot and red, puffy around the bottom and his nose is bright pink from the cold. His hands on my hips burn cold through the thin fabric of my t-shirt.

"Save the apologies for Denise," I tell him, "she's sitting at home in tears."

He runs a hand through his hair, letting the warmth return to my body, "I fucked up, and we're only two days into the year."

"Just because you've had one bad day, doesn't mean it's a bad year," I comfort him, still angry at the worry and panic he'd set into my body – and George and Denise too, no doubt. "Look, no one wants to get a call from their friend telling them their best friend isn't answering their phone and has essentially disappeared off the face of the planet, let alone their mother."

"She'll be pissed," he sighs, "and that's being hopeful."

I shoot him a sympathetic look, even though I know I shouldn't be, "Let's go."

He holds my hand while we walk to the car, George waiting for us in the driver's seat with the engine still on. I climb into the backseat, taking my spot in the middle while Matty takes comfort in the left side, closing the door and meeting eyes with George who is also looking at him with sympathy.

"Mate," he starts, but is quickly cut off by Matty's broken voice.

"Save it," he says, "I'll get enough of a beating from my mum."

And so George drives, without a word or a sound, and we make it all the way back to Wilmslow with my hand in Matty's.

It's understandable that when we reach Matty's house he takes a few steady breaths to calm himself down. He'd managed to start crying halfway home, so I squeezed his hand tighter and leaned my head on his shoulder, hoping to ease his emotions.

"Can I come by later?" He whispers, "if things go bad?"

"Of course," I nod – of course, I would give Matty anything he wants, "You'll be fine."

His lips press to my cheek comfortingly, although I should be the one comforting him. I watch him walk up the pathway, closing the back door to George's car when he's disappeared and climbing back into the passenger's seat.