be my mistake ~ matty healy

five

    waking up the next day was a drag. my head was pounding, i was sore, and i heard a crash from the living room which made my head throb. i groaned and covered my head with the duvet, trying to go back to sleep.

    that was until i heard someone walk into the room and jump on the bed. i groaned yet again and removed the covers from my head, watching matty as he stretched out and turned to look at me.

    "afternoon, sleepyhead. i called in andrew, told him you were sick," he said, rubbing his face. i nodded slightly and tried to pull the covers over my head. he grabbed my wrist and stopped me.

"adam, george, and ross were wanting to come over," he said. he acted as if the bruised lip and face were nothing but a facade.

"what time is it?" i inquired, not ready to start the day.

"1:46pm," he stated, getting this toothy grin on his face. i groaned and pushed the covers off of me.

"matty, can you get me some painkillers," i asked, rubbing my face. he stood up, shirtless and all.

"what's the magic word," he said, turning to leave the room.

"fuck you," i replied, not having this shit right now. he laughed and left, i assumed he was getting the medicine. he came back with two pills in his large hand and a cup of orange juice in the other.

i gladly took them. after gulping them down, and the orange juice, i got off the bed and went toward my bathroom.

"i'm going to take a shower," i announced as matty lies back on the bed, grabbing his phone. he quietly said "yeah" before i shut the door.

the scalding water washed off the night before, all the tears and aches and regrets. i spent a good 20 minutes in there before i came out, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my figure.

i got dressed quickly and walked into my living room to see matty smoking a spliff. i say next to him and took a drag myself, zoning out the mediocre tv show.

    "alex, you know you're a very pretty lady, right?" matty asked out of the blue, breaking the silence between us. i grinned and rolled my eyes.

    "i think that's the weed talking, matty," i said,  shaking my head a bit. he peered at me for a few seconds while easing his eyebrow before his phone started ringing, startling both of us.

    he rolled his eyes before checking it. he answered it quickly and walked into my bedroom. i peered at him for a few seconds, analyzing his sculpted back before hopping off my couch to find something to eat.

he walked in while i was drinking a cup of coffee, a look of irritation written on his face.

    "what is it?" i inquired. he waved it off and complained about him not eating yet.

    after eating and spending a few hours talking about meaningless implements, matty decided we needed to get out of my dull apartment and do something that acquired to his bombastic taste. thus, reasoning for why matty was avidly pulling me to the art gallery.

    though matty and i have visited this place abundantly, it was still one of his favorite spots in manchester. there were few variations every time matty and i visited, but he says that you can look at a picture for a week and never think of it again, but you can also look at a picture for a second and think of it all your life.

    arriving at the gallery, i was met with the familiar stature and its infamous columns. to matty, the whole thing was art. though the building was undeniably beautiful, matty thinks most things are art. even the tiniest of things.

    we entered the building, most likely looking like a pair of junkies who can't stay serious for a few minutes. matty and i aimlessly wandered the halls, pointing out new exhibits and rating them.

as of now, we were roaming the streets freely. matty had his arm around me and was singing 'girlfriend in a coma' by the smiths as my eyes peered at the sky above.

it was nearing 6, and the sky above was just beginning to darken. the whole day was gloomy and cold, but it's something i was used to. after living in manchester so long, one would think that the constant dullness and slowness of the city would eventually shake and the lifeless air around me wouldn't feel so dreadful.

upon arriving at my apartment, matty was complaining about his face and how it hurt. the bruise from the previous night still haunted his face, the shades of purple and red littering his jaw. his lip was still busted but he seemed to ignore the pain, his attention focusing on the aching in his jaw.

    after handing him an ice pack from the freezer, he settled into the couch, flipping through the telly for something to watch. i watched as he put on a movie from the mid-90s, not knowing what it was.

    i sat down at the other end of the couch, pulling out my phone that had lacked attention all day.

    1 new message.

    i opened the message, seeing as it was from my mom. i quickly turned off the phone and tried to ignore my rapid heart. after all these years.