takes a bit more • matthew healy

xxvii.) leather

reading matthew is as difficult as judging a complete stranger from afar.

and that, to me, is as sad as it sounds.

knowing that you are in a relationship with someone you don't fully know yet, with his mind just difficult to understand at all the wrong moments. frankly, i never thought matty would be easy. i guess, that's what i like about him. love. love about him.

he isn't easy, and reading him is like an addicting puzzle piece i'm just desperate to solve.

i find it odd how he manages to stay with me, too. i think about that sometimes. when he's performing onstage, talking to different people who are far more attractive or talkative than me, or even when we're alone in our cramped hotel room, with him either playing the guitar or smoking a joint. whenever he's completely lost in thought, or doing something else—i just end up wondering why he loves me.

that is also as sad as it sounds, for i cannot find any reason to love even myself.

i try to hide it, though. i guess i'm good at that—hiding emotions. high school teaches you the best lessons in the most uncomfortable ways, i believe; the fact that i had nearly zero friends in school really forced me to conceal my thoughts and everything else.

i mask everything well, in my opinion. it has now been a few hours since i stopped speaking to my boyfriend, and i still manage to not get myself to go over to him, even though i'm tipsy out of my mind and it's all i can ever think about as of the moment.

ross has been talking to me about antarctica and penguins for the past thirty minutes or so, because there really is nothing better to talk about at 3am than penguins, really.

my attention span, despite being short, cuts to a complete stop once i see matthew stand up from his side of the table and staggers towards what looks like the men's room.

you're not going to follow him. i repeat the words in my head until it finds its way out from my mouth.

"what?" ross asks. it takes me a few seconds to answer.

"oh. sorry." i shake my head. "excuse me."

and then i stand up to follow him.

halfway through, i hear someone call my name amidst the loud thumping music. "rhian!"

it's george. for fuck's sake, i have not seen him half of the night. "where are you off to?" he asks me. his eyes are red, and so is his whole pale face. this man looks very fucking high.

"oh. uhm," i look back to where matty has entered, then back to george. "i'm going to matty."

"what?" he shouts over the loud music.

"i'm going to matty." i say again, louder this time.

"in the men's room?" he presses on.

"yeah. i guess."

george cackles. "oh. fucking hell."

i squint my eyes. "how high are you, george?"

"very!" he shouts, a smile spread across his face as he looks at me. "very very fucking high. do you want to come with me? i just want to get some air outside."