//Apartment 102//

//but im bereft you see, I think you can tell I haven't been doing too well//

I had been in 102 for almost a month now, and as nervous as I was to admit it, everything had been going surprisingly well. I worked weekends at Grimmy's and was making decent money, and we have actually became pretty good friends - mates. I think somethings going on between him and Harry... but that's just speculation. George has been a better friend to me than anybody I have ever had in my life, that I can recall. He has made it a point to knock and my door in the afternoon - morning to Matty, of course - and I'll walk with him to the coffee shop to get his wake-the-dead beverage for his flatmate.

Then there's Matty. Matty, my messy haired, soft voiced, crooked toothed neighbor. Matty, who texts me at 4 am when he can't sleep. Matty, who was the first person to awaken emotions inside me, other than anger, in years. I almost don't know what to do with myself sometimes. I'm not used to feeling so... vulnerable.

Seeing what I want, and taking it, that's what I was used to. Game face ready, not caring about the consequences. But now... now I'm nervous. Fucking nervous.

My phone vibrates, pulling my attention of my daydreams and towards my screen that's now lit up. It's a text from George.

Is Matty with you?

That's odd. They're so attached at the damn hip, it's unheard of for one to not know where the other is. I text him back.

No he isnt.

His reply is almost instant.

Shit alright thanks

I hope everything's alright. I'm sure it is.

My feet carry me to my art room and I start setting up supplies to start a new painting. My painting of Matty catches my eye, it's sitting on the floor leaning against the wall, untouched since the night I painted it. I grab a hook and fasten it to the wall. I wonder if he'd let me paint him again.  He sat surprisingly well, and creating his features on canvas was an enjoyable challenge. His jawline, those thick curls.

Just as I'm about to finish setting my oil paints out, someone pounds on my door, urgently. I jump up and run over, quickly pulling my door open to reveal George.

"George is everything okay?" He looks panicked.

"Matty's gone."

"What do you mean 'gone'?" I let him in, shutting the door behind him. He walks into the living room, pacing back and forth and running his hand through his hair.

"I haven't seen him since last night. He was gone when I woke up and he hasn't answered my calls or texts." With shakey hands, he pulls a cigarette out of his pack and lights it, holding his pack out to me, offering me one.

"Maybe it's nothing. He probably just got smashed and passed out at someone's house." I take his offer, placing the cigarette between my lips and lighting it.

"This is Matty were talking about. It's never nothing, Nova."

I nod my head in agreement, inhaling deeply from my cigarette as I pull my phone out and dial his number. It rings a few times before his voicemail picks up.

"Soz mate, I'm not around. Leave a message and I'll ring you back, maybe." I hang up in defeat.

"Look, George, he isn't just gone. He'll come back eventually."

He sighs, putting out his cigarette and almost immediately lighting another one. "He has really bad anxiety, Nova. When shit happens, he doesn't... he doesn't deal with it well." He takes a long drag off his cig before continuing. "If he's ignoring me, it's because he's doing something he doesn't want me knowing he's doing."