Please // Matty Healy

the sixth

"We wouldn't want to make Matty jealous," I joked. My face turned red. I knew Matty couldn't give a shit, but the dress gave me confidence. 

"Now we're talking," Kai cheered.

________

"So..." Kai spoke as we rode in the back of a large black SUV with some other members of the management, "You are invited to watch the show backstage, but it's a much better view from the crowd, especially since this is your first time seeing The 1975," she said. I nodded my head.

"Then let's stand there," I assured.

"Besides, there's an open bar," she winked.

Perfect.

The venue was somewhat small but packed nonetheless. The red dress was definitely a statement amongst a sea of girls in dark clothes, but the looks I was given and the outpour of compliments kept me confident.

"Wear the dress, don't let it wear you," Kai reminded me as we found our spots towards the back. The opening band had already finished by the time we got there. 

It wasn't much longer until the crowd erupted with screams, welcoming the boys to the stage. 

Matty looked so good, it hurt.

It hurt to just be another girl in the crowd. I suddenly felt pathetic in my dress, as if I actually believed it would work to capture his attention. Now it just felt desperate. It felt naive, like I had let myself believe he would even bother. 

He looked so good, and every single girl in this room was thinking the same thing. I was just another player in his game of thousands. He was the only player in mine. That reality was hard to manage. 

I hated how I loved the way the music made me feel.

I hated how I loved the way he sang, the poetic lines falling off his lips laced with volume and rasp yet not hiding the delicate brokeness underneath. It was so authentically human.

I hated how I loved the little things, like how he held the mic or danced about, or the way he looked into the audience, making everyone feel personally addressed.  

I hated how I loved the way he talked between songs, so casually, as if he hadn't just given the most amazing performance seconds ago. 

I didn't love the way he treated himself on stage. There were only a few songs left and Matty had already visibly intoxicated himself. His dancing turned to stumbling, and his speeches in between songs were now slurred.

"This next song," he spoke, "is called fallingforyou" 

The fans cheered. The title stung.

The lyrics were slow, sweet, the room lit up with the flashlights of phones. 

I was captivated.

"You're all I need," he sang, his words melting into my jealousy. He was singing a song about falling for someone, and yet it wasn't about me. It was never going to be about me.

"Don't you see me?
I, I think I'm falling, I'm falling for you.
Don't you need me?
I, I think I'm falling, I'm falling for you."

I closed my eyes, imagining there was nobody else in the room. Imagining he cared. Imagining he was singing these sweet words to me and me only. 

"I'm caught on your coat again.
You said, "Oh, no, it's fine."
I read between the lines
And touched your leg again, again.
I'll take it one day at a time.
Soon you will be mine.
Oh, but I want you now, I want you now
When the smoke is in your eyes,
You look so alive.
Do you fancy sitting down with me?
Maybe?"