George's POV.
The sky was entirely black except for a half-moon that was just bright enough to illuminate the pavement and some of the buildings. Everything that surrounded me looked almost like it was in black and white.
But the hurricane in my brain, that was all gray.
Noelle didn't follow me when I walked out of my own apartmet on a smoke break that I never returned from, and I was relieved. The thought of having to ease her at this moment, to assure her she was the one I wanted to be with, made me feel sick and overwhlemed. I couldn't even answer that question for myself.
Fucking Matty.
Fucking Claire.
Fucking Tinsley and her stupid idea to play spin-the-bottle.
Fucking everyone else for joining in like we were no better than a group of horny high-schoolers, itching to rub each others genetalia.
Fucking me for walking out like a bitch.
It wasn't Matty's fault, I suppose. Claire was beauitful. The way her hair cascaded down her back, the way her lips moved when she talked, the way her voice changed when she talked to him. He was just a guy, a very drunk guy, after all. I couldn't blame him for serving up his best for her.
It wasn't Claire's fault, either, but I expected so much more from her. She waited on Matty's every move, hungry for him to smirk at her or run his hands through his hair. I didn't want to see it, but I couldn't look away.
Sure, I was toying with everyone in the room when I kissed her. I wanted her to know that she could have me if she wanted me. I didn't care that Noelle was there, nor anyone else. When she looked up at me with those big innocent eyes, I thought that's what she wanted. But when she kissed Matty, and the sick masochistic part of me watched them essentially fuck with their clothes on, I knew he beat me. I didn't even want to play the game, but Matty beat me.
I thought so much more of her. The things she was made of- her timidness, her sweetness, the way her lashes fluttered, the way her cheeks blushed, the way she crossed and uncrossed her legs- were going to be eaten away by Matty Healy.
I watched Claire forget who she was, where she was, when he kissed her. The sounds of him grunting and her moaning, way louder than she thought she was, played in my ears over and over, and I felt like I was going to be sick.
My shoes thudded against the stairs to Ross and Adam's apartment as I made my way up, jingling my keys and unlocking the door with my spare. I didn't see Adam's car, which was a good thing since I heard Tinsley and Ross fucking in his bedroom. I scoff/laughed to myself as I kicked off my shoes and laid down on the couch, feeling proud of Ross at the moment, before I quickly fell asleep.
===
Ross shook me awake the next morning.
"Mate," he said, wiggling my shoulders violently, my legs shooting up from dangling from the couch. "You alive?"
I groaned, but nodded my head.
Ross started a speech about how I needed to let him know when I was here, how he is entitled to privacy in his own home, how Tinsley was embarrassed when she saw me passed on on the couch as she was leaving. I let him ramble as I took a piss and went to knock on my guitarist's door.
"Hann?" I knocked again.
The bed was neatly made when I opened the door, and Hann was nowhere to be found.
"...so embarrassed, and I wanted to keep the shit private, but no, I can't, because Georgie is fucking snoring on the couch as I'm fucking my mate's sister. God damnit George, are you even listening to me?" Ross continued.
"Where the fuck is Hann?" I interrupted, dismissing his speech.
Adam definitely would have cared if he knew Ross had slept with his sister, but I definitely wasn't going to say anything and Ross should have known better.
Ross's face squinted together. "Dunno, mate."
I spun on my heel in the room, then looked out the window to see if his car was outside. Adam was quite the player, way moreso than he let on, but he never, ever slept over at other girls' houses. He was one to fuck them good and cuddle til they fell asleep, but dip out in the early hours of the morning before any serious, sober conversations were made.
"Fucking code emergency, Ross," I shouted.
Ross rolled his eyes. "He was taking Claire home when I lied and said I was taking Tinnie back to her parent's house."
"Give me your keys," I demanded.
Ross moved his lips to protest, but gave in to my demands and handed over his car keys.
===
Claire's POV.
The rest of the night was an obscure cloud of alcohol, smoke, and occasional hand-holding with Matty. The memories were faint, and I don't remember what he said. I only remember him kissing me on the forehead as I laid my head in his lap, and him guiding me to the bathroom when he knew I was going to be sick.
My brain felt like it was swollen; the thrust of my hangover put pressure on my temple and eye. I felt like I hadn't slept, but when I looked at my alarm clock it was nearly noon. I had no idea how I got home.
I never did things like this.
I had changed into a a white racerback cami and new undies, but I don't remember doing it. My hair reeked of smoke and tequila, and my breath was the same. The cold water I splashed onto my face woke me up some, but the vibrations of my electric toothbrush made the headache more intense.
Two Aleve from the medicine cabinet went into my mouth, and I thanked whatever God I still clung to the belief of that they would work. Coffee. I needed coffee. But when I stumbled into the kitchen, someone had already beat me to it.
His face was obstructed by the open cabinet, and he was shirtless and rummaging through my mugs. Judging his height and Geisha tattoo, he was neither George nor Matty. He was wearing only boxers, and I caught myself approving of his bum before I realized I had no idea why he was here.
"Adam?!?" I shrieked.
This startled him, and he dropped a pastel mug onto the floor, shattering it.
"Shit!" he exclaimed, bending down to pick up the broken porcelain pieces off the floor.
I bent down to my knees with him and helped him. He could explain why he was here after there was no chance of my feet getting cut up by glass.
"Be careful," he said, his hair whisping around his eyes.
I got a broom and a dustpan and we finished the job.
"I'm sorry. I didn't hear you wake, you scared me," Adam said, pouring me a cup of coffee and then one for himself.
"I scared you?! No offense, Adam, but...what exactly are you doing in my apartment half-naked?" I inquired.
He cocked a perfect eyebrow at me, as if to say he was not the only one half-naked, and I remembered I was wearing only panties and a white cami.
"Hann!" I yelled.
But he wasn't checking me out, he was a gentleman and covered his eyes with his hands as I rushed into my room to cover myself with a cute cotton robe I'd gotten at Victoria's secret. When I went back into the kitchen, he held up cream and sugar and again raised a perfect brow. I nodded for him to add it to my coffee.
This whole pantsless coffee-date thing with members of The 1975 was becoming too much of a pattern.
Adam Hann was in his underwear. I was in my underwear.
What the fuck exactly happened last night?
"Adam...." I started. "Where are your clothes?"
Adam shrugged and sipped his coffee, leaning against my counter in only his undies. I had to remind myself not to stare, because he did, in fact, have a nice body. Not that I was into him, but if a near-naked Adam Hann is standing in your kitchen, a girl has to at least glance, right?
"In your dryer," he said. "You vomited all over them last night. Or early this morning, rather," he explained so matter-of-factly.
I cradled my mug in my hands, the warmth penetrating my palms.
"Did we...." I couldn't even say it out loud.
But he knew what I meant.
He blushed a little and shook his head. "No."
A long sigh of relief leapt through my lips as I tossed my hair over my shoulder.
"I think you have enough members of my band on your plate, Claire," Adam said. It wasn't hateful, more matter-of-fact.
I still narrowed my eyes at him, but softened them when I realized he wasn't wrong. Guilt plunged into my heart when I remembered Matty and I sucking faces right in front of George, just before George went on a smoke break he never returned from.
"Did Matty and I..." I trailed off.
Adam shrugged a shoulder. "I don't think so. You held hands and he was constantly kissing your cheeks and forehead. But I don't think you fucked, no."
It was weird hearing Adam Hann say such a vulgar word. My heart felt like it was made of Jell-O when I remembered Matty being so cutesy.
"So how did I get home?" I asked.
Adam recapped the night for me, the two of us sipping coffee. His voice was soothing and quiet. Unsure of whether it was the Aleve, the coffee, or Adam's kind personality and soft voice, my migraine was fading and I was thankful.
Matty and I had slow-danced. He had kissed my forehead and cheeks. I had fallen asleep in his arms on the couch, before being awaken by nausea. He guided me to the bathroom, where I then proceded to vomit up some internal organs. He let me use his toothbrush when I was done. After this, it was Matty who was wretching on the floor alone. Matty apparently fell asleep, in the dry bathtub, while I was rummaging through their pantry for snacks.
"So then you made me take you to a drive-thru McDonald's," Adam continued his story. "And you spilled Coke all over my car. You kept trying to clean it up and eat fries at the same time. Then I drove your to your apartment and half-carried you up the stairs. Apparently the food didn't settle because the minute we were at your doorstep, you wretched all over me. I threw my clothes in the washer and fell asleep on the couch," Adam recalled.
My cheeks blushed crimson and my eyes nearly buldged out of their sockets.
"Oh. My. God.," I let out. "I'm so sorry, Adam. I don't think I've ever been so shit-faced," I said before downing the rest of my coffee and pouring another.
I filled his cup too.
"Yeah, you don't seem to have much of a tolerance," Adam stirred his coffee. "I'm very sorry I'm my underwear."
The corner of my mouth lifted in amusement at him. He was so polite and sweet. He had taken care of me last night whenever I acted like a complete ass. I did nothing to earn his kindess.
"It's fine, Hann," I gulped my coffee. "I'm so, so sorry. Geeze, you're a really nice guy," I thanked him.
Adam shrugged his geisha tattoo and smiled weakly.
"My friends really...care about you," he said.
I didn't quite know how to respond to this. I loved George. He and I had always been close, but after last night I wasn't quite sure how long our closeness would remain. George was so adamant about me staying away from Matty, and I understood his rationale. Gerogie was protective; he didn't want to see me get hurt. It wasn't hard to come to the conclusion that Matty Healy broke hearts on a regular basis.
"I care about them, too," I chose my words carefully. "Are you hungry?"
My stomach was in knots, but it was the least I could do after Adam Hann babysat me the entire night.
"Sure," he answered.
As I made his breakfast, both of us went about our tasks silently but enjoyably. Me, frying a couple eggs and making toast, and him scrolling through his phone and asking about 5,000 times if I needed help.
Maybe I was crushing on the wrong band members.
No, Adam was too sweet for me. But damn if I wasn't beginning to adore him, platonically.
I served him his breakfast and went to check the status of his post-vomit clothes. They were dry now, and I folded them and sat the neat little pile beside him at the table.
"Thanks Claire," he said, crunching on his toast.
I sat next to him at the table, crossing my legs and tying my hair into a lazy bun. After the second loop of tying my hair, the doorbell rang.
It was George, and he looked both worried and furious, still in last night's clothes.
"Hi," I said nervously.
"Hann?!" George shouted, practically pushing past me.
Adam was quick to his feet, and already had one leg in his jeans.
"What the fuck is going on?!?" George exclaimed.
Adam put the other leg in and zipped his jeans, pulling the t-shirt over his head. I placed my hand on George's forearm and opened my mouth to speak, but Adam beat me to it.
"Nothing happened, mate" Adam said, putting a hand on the middle of my back gently. "I took her home, she wretched on my clothes, I washed them, she woke up, I broke her tea cup."
George looked at Adam incredulously, then at me with a wave of guilt hitting him in the gut. He blinked his pretty eyes.
"Why the fuck would you break her tea cup?" he asked.
Adam shrugged. "Poorly directed rage," he said sacrastically.
I giggled at the two band-mates. "I scared him," I answered George.
George chuckled. "He scares easy, be gentle."
===
George's POV.
Hann left, taking his car with him back to his apartment. I sent a warning text to Ross to make there was no evidence of Tinsley being there last night. My band had never had so much secretive sex.
Claire made me breakfast, as she did for Adam. She looked cute as fuck in her little pastel pink robe, her legs smooth, her face makeupless but beautiful. She wasn't wearing a bra and was trying to hide it, but her perfect breasts jiggled as she whisked eggs and I forced myself to look away before I did something I'd regret. I thought of what Matty would do in this predicament. My stomach was in knots, because I knew Claire would let him do whatever he wanted with her, and he would have zero remorse.
She sat the plate in front of me and smiled, her ivory cheeks flushing pink. Claire sat at the seat next to me and sipped her coffee nervously, opening her pouty lips every once in a while to speak, but deciding not to every time.
I could tell she wanted to talk about last night, to make some excuse, to make me feel better. I hated seeing her feel guilty, but the truth is that I feel like she earned it. Matty too, but he would never truly feel guilty for anything.
"Still in last night's clothes?" she asked me as I crunched on my toast.
I nodded a few times. "Yeah. I slept at Ross and Adam's, but didn't see Adam in the morning. Alas, here I am," I explained.
"Adam Hann is an angel," she sighed. "I honestly don't think I've ever been so drunk. Did you know I forced him to take me to McDonald's. He probably hates me," she said, her pretty face striken with worry.
"Hann can't hate anyone, especially you," I said. "I'm glad he was there."
I didn't finish the sentence how I wanted to, which was to include "because Matty is such a dick that he got completely shit faced and didn't look out for you." Maybe I had no right. I had abandoned her too.
Claire fiddled with her robe around her neck, draping it over her collar bones and folding her arms across her chest. I wondered how many tiny little Matty marks covered her skin underneath.
"Did you fuck Matty last night?" I blurted out, licking the melted butter on my thumb.
Her big, round eyes got even bigger and rounder.
"No," she answered in a whisper.
She was close enough to me that I was in a cloud of different smells that were sept into her hair and skin. Her perfume, her shampoo, Matty's cigarettes, Matty's cologne, Matty's deodorant, Matty's tequila. Her own hair smelled like Matty's. He was my lead singer, and I knew what his sweat smelled like. She was covered in it, too.
Fuck. I bet he fucked her all over my fucking apartment.
I bet she blew him in the hallway. I bet he threw her on the bed and ate her out, like I almsot did. I bet he took her from behind in my fucking kitchen.
"Did you fuck Noelle?" she asked me, interrupting my awful thoughts.
"No, why would you even ask?" I questioned her.
Her gorgeous features narrowed together. "Why would you even ask me if I fucked Matty?"
I rolled my eyes. She had a point, but I didn't want to validate her sassiness. Matty was rubbing off on her.
"I asked because I wanted to know," I answered her plainly.
Her little hands were balled into fists and she slammed them against the table. "You are so unfair, George Bedford Daniel!"
"And you're so naive, Claire Madeline McDaniel," I spouted back at her.
She huffed and relaxed her hands a little. I finished my last bite and folded my arms across my chest, clenching my tattoed bicep, a nervous trait I had picked up on in the past few years.
"I'm not naive, George," she said, her voice still shaky and upset.
"So you're well-aware that Matty's going to allow you to fall in love with him, play along for a few weeks, then drop you like a hot pan when he finds someone else to obsess over him?" I asked her.
I knew I was being harsh, but I also knew she needed to hear it.
"I am not obsessing over him," Claire said, with an annoyance in her voice. "We kissed, that's all."
I quirked an eyebrow at her. "That's all?"
Her eyes stared into space for a moment, and she looked like she was recalling something of significance, but her lashes fluttered and she was brought back to the here and now.
"How am I supposed to explain all of this to you when I can barely understand it myself, George? You have a girlfriend, yet you completely flip shit when your friend flirts with me and--"
I interrupted her, "Matty is not just flirting with you. He is totally trying to fuck you. I saw him, at the bar, grinding behind you. And you let him. And then that whole spin the bottle fucking disaster where you two basically fucked with clothes on. And you smell exactly like him so there's no way you two didn't--"
It was she who interrupted me then.
"God damnit, George!" she exclaimed, again balling up her little fists. "You don't have the fucking right! I had to watch Noelle slobber all over you while you completely ignored me. You're supposed to be my friend, Georgie!"
"And you're supposed to be mine, Claire," I spurted back at her.
Tears were welling in her big eyes, and when the first one ran down her cheek, I felt like the biggest piece of shit in the world.
"Claire..." I said, my tone changing. "Please don't cry."
She put up a good fight in wiping away her tears, but they kept coming.
"Then don't make me cry," she said, her voice like velvet. Like sad, sad velvet.
I chucked my hat off at the table and ran my hands through my hair, forcing my eyes shut and exhaling loudly. When the hiccupts came, I couldn't take it anymore. I got up from the chair and sat her one the table, wrapping my arms around her and rubbing her back as she sobbed onto my shirt.
"I'm so sorry, kid," I said.
Seeing her cry was worse than seeing Matty kiss her. It was worse than the beginning montage in UP where the old man's wife dies. It was worse than when Ross stepped on my favorite drumsticks.
Claire let me rub her back and finally, after a few minutes, her hiccups ceased.
"I don't know what to do, George," she said, her sobs softening. "I think I just need to think about things. I never get that drunk, ever. And I promise I didn't have sex with him. I mean, he tried, but he didn't push it or anything. We just danced and cuddled and he kissed my forehead a lot. He let me use his toothbrush after I puked everywhere."
I pictured Matty pillow-talking with Claire, making her swoon over him, and letting her use his fucking toothbrush, and I honestly thought for a minute that I would have rather he fucked her and sent her home.
"It's not my call," I answered her, and myself. "You're right, kid. I love you, same way I always have. Maybe I'm just being posessive. I know how Matty is, and I know he's going to break your heart. If you wanna let him then I can't stop you."
A few strands of her long, pretty hair were glued to her temple by the adhesive of her tears, and I smoothed them behind her ear.
She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.
"But I can't be there to talk you through it, okay? I'll be your friend no matter what, because I love you and you love me. McDaniel and Daniel for life, right?"
Her luscious mouth formed into a little smile. "For life," she said, her arms still wrapped around my neck.
She kissed my cheek and moved her arms off my neck, drying off her pretty face with the sleeves of her cotton robe. She adjusted the front of it to cover herself once more, and part of me was sad, because her tits were the definition of perfection and you could totally see through that little white thing she was wearing.
"Are you upset with Matty?" she asked.
Ugh. That little fucker.
"Part of me is. Part of me isn't," I answered honestly. "I love him, too. He's my best friend."
Claire said nothing, but nodded her head in understanding and put her hand on my chest.
"Do you ever put on pants?" I asked her, changing the subject.
"Sometimes," she said.
"Did you put on that robe before or after you found Hann in your apartment?" I asked her.
"After," she answered me. "Why?"
I scoffed and laughed at the same time. "Oh, just wondering. It's just that it's a bit....nipply in here," I crossed my arms across my chest and pretended to shiver.
Claire's pretty face blushed an outrageous hot pink.
"Really?" she whispered.
I nodded, half-smiling at her.
"Ohmygod, I hope he didn't see--well, he did cover his eyes--"
"He covered his fucking eyes?" I asked, laughing in hysterics.
She smacked my chest. "He was a gentleman!"
I rolled my eyes at her. "That gentleman prefers blondes, anyways," I reassured her.
Claire eyed me. "I don't know, Georgie. I mean, we did kiss last night..."
I narrowed my gaze. "No. Don't even."
She chuckled at me and finished her coffee.
We talked about the summer our parents made us go skiing and I put on her ski suit to spite them. We talked about how she would always pretend my mother's yorkshire pudding was her favorite, but would always spit it into her napkin and/or feed it to my dog. And the first time I ever got her drunk, on Butterscotch Schnapps when she was 15, and she sat on my lap and tried to put my hair in about a half-dozen tiny pony tails.
When I decided to leave, she stood on her tip-toes and kissed my cheeks goodbye, and part of me believed everything would be okay, that she would be my friend and Matty would too, and my heart wouldn't be ripped out of my chest by her tiny fists.
EEEEEEEKKKKKK I'm getting so into this story! I have tons more plans for it.I'm not trying to be Needy Nancy, but I REALLY, REALLY would appreciate some feedback, comments, etc. I love writing this and hope you are enjoying reading this. Side note: Matthew Healy has cut his hair. Like, a LOT OF IT IS GONE AND I WAS AT FIRST SO FUCKING DEPRESSED ABOUT IT. But it's really growing on me, and him in those glasses with his new haircut is EVERYTHING. And the stubble?! I can't. I seriously can't.