9: I've Weighed It

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Matty eventually manages to drift off for a bit, but it's a restless and troubled slumber, filled with odd dreams that feel much too real, all of them featuring George in some way or form. After finding himself wide awake for the third time in barely two hours, Matty gives up on shut-eye entirely, slipping free from the sheets as silently as possible so as not to disturb George who is still out cold.

Matty isn't entirely sure why, but he ends up outside, wrapping George's jean jacket which he had retrieved on the way around his skinny frame to protect his skin from the cold, although he still shivers underneath the fabric when a strong breeze rushes by.

Matty settles himself at the edge of George's wide porch and pulls out his packs of cigarettes. George doesn't mind if he smokes inside, not unless he's recently been on one of his random cleaning sprees in which he sprays everything with air freshener and bans all form of tobacco and weed, which rarely lasts a week before George breaks his own rule himself.

Matty smiles to himself as he flips on the fairy lights he strung around the railing ages ago. George had grumbled the entire time Matty had spent setting them up of course, but he hasn't removed them even though he's had plenty of opportunities to do so. Matty's convinced that he secretly enjoys the soft ambiance, or maybe he just leaves them there for Matty's sake whenever he stops by - that would be a very George-like thing to do.

Matty wonders if it's sort of odd how everything reminds him of George, or brings up some George related memory, but it can't be that strange. He is in George's flat after all, and throughout almost his entire life, George has been by his side, so it makes sense, at least to Matty it does.

A part of Matty wishes George had noticed his absence and followed him out here, which is in complete juxtaposition to how he had reacted earlier when George had found him in the bathroom, but still - Matty is feeling oddly melancholy at the moment, and he isn't too keen on being left alone with the kind of thoughts that earlier mornings bereft of sunsets bring about.

Matty has no reason to be sad, and he isn't really sure that is an accurate label for his emotions at the moment. He's just off, disconnected in that sort of way that leaves him unsettled and shaken. He doesn't think this is caused by Gemma - not this time, in fact, it might not have any roots at all.

Matty gets in these moods from time to time. Sometimes they turn into productive songwriting sessions, and others - like right now involve him smoking too many cigarettes and holding back the urge to cry while he tries to discover what he is producing tears over.

Tilting his head back, Matty stares at the sky, attempting to ignore the way the colored canvas seems to be pressing down around him, threatening to crush him if he fails to keep moving, but Matty doesn't have the strength to do that at the moment.

Despite the ominous nature of the atmosphere, Matty enjoys the particular shade it is right now. The blue is soft and dark all at once, shifting and changing wherever he looks but somehow appearing matte all at the same time.

Maybe their next album could be colored in such a fashion, highlighting all of the different variances with each song, but no - as lovely as that idea sounds, it doesn't resonate correctly within him.

Matty has barely started working on it, so he could easily change his mind, but he already has some lyrics he plans on using, as well as the titles for a few songs swimming around in his brain, and the theme of the album needed something brighter - more shocking. Pink is a possibility, that would be an ironic contrast to the black and white persona they had displayed on their last record.

Yes - pink seemed to fit well, a vibrant shade, maybe fluorescent even, a synthetic color that can appear fake and tarty but also shows itself in natural venues like a blush or a slip of the tongue.

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