takes a bit more • matthew healy

viii.) tequila

rhiannon hasn't answered any of my calls for the past four hours.

not like i had been counting.

all i want to do is apologize to her, what's gotten into her mind to actually decline my calls?

i don't know what had gotten into my mind either, mentioning her name on national radio and—fucking hell—her age, even.

i'm aware that back at the flat, george is furious and so near to banging my head on the wall, which is quite possible considering george is more of a monster in physique compared to me... and ross is, well, planning my funeral and answering calls from my mum on what my death clothes will be. my nerves are taking a toll on me, and adam seems to have noticed this, so he takes me to a bar in the middle of the afternoon for a drink.

"george rang me up a minute ago," he says after ordering a shot of tequila, "told me to tell you that you're a complete scumbag."

i take a shot of my own as a reply. of course i had seen that coming.

"is it true, then? what you said back there at the radio station? are you really thinking about making her your girlf—"

"no." i say, mainly to shut him off. "it's a fucking mistake, hann, i don't know why i had said her name, i don't know why i fucking confirmed that she's seventeen, even. i don't fucking know anything mate. just fucking let me be at peace."

adam takes out a cigarette stick from his pocket, and hands it over to me, tapping my shoulder. "knew this would come in handy."

i'm smoking now, more pissed than ever before, until my phone rings. for a split second i wish for it to be rhiannon, but it's gabriella, the model i hook up with.

"gabby, now's not the fucking time."

"how fucking dare you."

i hear sobbing over the other line, and i'm completely frustrated on what's going on, not to mention too exhausted to actually react to her. i say, "what's happening?" although i don't really fucking care.

"you're a fucking cheater, matthew!" she bawls, and it's loud enough for adam to hear, so i put it on speakerphone. "i thought you really liked me, now you're shagging a fucking minor? it's because i'm not around, is that it?"

"hey, no." i try to speak in the calmest voice known to man, but i'm fucking done with everyone's shit as of the moment, and this time i need to deal with my own. "i'm... i'm not even dating anyone, gabby. not even you."

"fuck you." gabriella shouts, and i hear adam attempting not to laugh. "fuck you, matty. god. i hope your d*ck gets cut off. i'm canceling my flight to manchester. good fucking luck on your tour."

beep.

"hope your d*ck gets cut off?" adam is cackling this time while i am scrolling through my phone logs. "she's crazy, mate. glad you finally got rid of that rat."

i don't reply. i can't stop looking at the missed calls.

i press on rhiannon's contact again. declined.

hann sighs. "if you're so keen on getting a response mate, might as well go to her personally then."

i glare at adam, because he's fucking right once more and it hits my ego. of all things, rejection is my weakness. i've never been rejected by a woman ever since the 1975 came about, must be the rockstar status or whatever appeal women get from being groupies or some sort... this one's quite different, and i honestly don't know how to handle it well.