I had been in 102 for almost a month now, and as nervous as I was to admit it, everything had been going surprisingly well. I worked weekends at Grimmy's and was making decent money, and we have actually became pretty good friends - mates. I think somethings going on between him and Harry... but that's just speculation. George has been a better friend to me than anybody I have ever had in my life, that I can recall. He has made it a point to knock and my door in the afternoon - morning to Matty, of course - and I'll walk with him to the coffee shop to get his wake-the-dead beverage for his flatmate.
Then there's Matty. Matty, my messy haired, soft voiced, crooked toothed neighbor. Matty, who texts me at 4 am when he can't sleep. Matty, who was the first person to awaken emotions inside me, other than anger, in years. I almost don't know what to do with myself sometimes. I'm not used to feeling so... vulnerable.
Seeing what I want, and taking it, that's what I was used to. Game face ready, not caring about the consequences. But now... now I'm nervous. Fucking nervous.
My phone vibrates, pulling my attention of my daydreams and towards my screen that's now lit up. It's a text from George.
Is Matty with you?
That's odd. They're so attached at the damn hip, it's unheard of for one to not know where the other is. I text him back.
No he isnt.
His reply is almost instant.
Shit alright thanks
I hope everything's alright. I'm sure it is.
My feet carry me to my art room and I start setting up supplies to start a new painting. My painting of Matty catches my eye, it's sitting on the floor leaning against the wall, untouched since the night I painted it. I grab a hook and fasten it to the wall. I wonder if he'd let me paint him again. He sat surprisingly well, and creating his features on canvas was an enjoyable challenge. His jawline, those thick curls.
Just as I'm about to finish setting my oil paints out, someone pounds on my door, urgently. I jump up and run over, quickly pulling my door open to reveal George.
"George is everything okay?" He looks panicked.
"Matty's gone."
"What do you mean 'gone'?" I let him in, shutting the door behind him. He walks into the living room, pacing back and forth and running his hand through his hair.
"I haven't seen him since last night. He was gone when I woke up and he hasn't answered my calls or texts." With shakey hands, he pulls a cigarette out of his pack and lights it, holding his pack out to me, offering me one.
"Maybe it's nothing. He probably just got smashed and passed out at someone's house." I take his offer, placing the cigarette between my lips and lighting it.
"This is Matty were talking about. It's never nothing, Nova."
I nod my head in agreement, inhaling deeply from my cigarette as I pull my phone out and dial his number. It rings a few times before his voicemail picks up.
"Soz mate, I'm not around. Leave a message and I'll ring you back, maybe." I hang up in defeat.
"Look, George, he isn't just gone. He'll come back eventually."
He sighs, putting out his cigarette and almost immediately lighting another one. "He has really bad anxiety, Nova. When shit happens, he doesn't... he doesn't deal with it well." He takes a long drag off his cig before continuing. "If he's ignoring me, it's because he's doing something he doesn't want me knowing he's doing."
I don't ask what George meant by that. Of course, my mind automatically makes assumptions, but if Matty wanted me knowing the dirty details of his past, he would have told me. There is a whole lot about my life he doesn't know, as in the greater fucking majority.
George camps out on my couch, chain smoking through his pack of cigarettes and calling everyone he can think of who might have heard from Matty. When he smokes through his pack, I offer to run out and grab him more, leaving him in 102.
I weave through the streets, my feet carrying me towards the closest corner store, and I purchase a pack for George, and one for myself, and start my journey back to our apartment building. I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket and I pull it out, not checking the caller ID, just assuming it's going to be George.
"Nova..." a weak, but overly familiar voice comes through the speaker, making me stop in my tracks entirely.
"Matty? Are you okay?"
"Been better, to be honest."
"Where are you? George is kinda freaking out."
"I- I fucked up." He voice is barely audible, he's talking so quietly, but I can hear his voice crack.
"We all fuck up. Tell me where you are, I'll come meet you."
"I'll text you an address"
"Okay I'm on my way now, Matty, just stay there." I start running back towards 102.
"I will... thanks, Nova." The line goes silent.
Shit. He sounded horrible. I run into the building and burst through my door, making George jump.
"Matty called me, he sent me an address, I'm going to meet him now."
I throw him his pack of cigs and turn to head back out the door, pausing to turn around a noticing that he hasn't moved from his spot on the couch. "You aren't coming with me?"
"He called you, not me. Go make sure he's okay and I'll stay here. Just, text me when you get to him, okay?"
I promise I will, and run out my door.
I run through the streets, allowing my head to think of all the worst possibilities of just exactly what Matty could have gotten himself into. Varying scenarios from him going to a club and blowing all his money on booze, to him murdering a prostitute in a drug induced haze. I look down at my phone, checking how close I am to the address he sent me.
Please be okay Matty.
Please.
Just be okay.
I near the address and call him. It rings... and rings.
"Soz mate, I'm not aro-" Dammit.
I check my surroundings. I wouldn't exactly call it an alley, but it isn't at all a busy street. In the distance I see a curly head of hair, attached to a man sitting on the sidewalk, his back against a brick wall, with his knees drawn up towards his chest. I run towards him.
He looks aweful. Dark circles under his eyes, his normally perfect hair, frizzy and sticking up in nearly all directions.
"Matty."
He doesn't look up at me. His gaze stays directed at the ground in front of him. Instead, I sit next to him on the sidewalk, my back against the cold brick wall and my knees up to my chest, alike him. I pull out my phone and text George.
I'm with him now.
He replies instantly.
Thank fuck. See you when you get back.
"Are you alright?" I shove my phone into my bag, setting in on the concrete next to me.
"Not really." His voice is quiet and shakey, it makes an uneasy feeling form in the pit of my stomach.
"Do you wanna talk about it?"
He sighs. "Not really."
I pull out my pack of cigarettes, lighting one, taking a long drag off of it, and holding it out for him. A peace offering.
"Do you want to get up?"
Matty takes a couple puffs off the cigarette, before handing it back to me. "Not really."
I sigh in defeat, inhaling the smoke from my cig and lightly laying my head on his shoulder. After a moment, he leans his head over, resting it on top of my forehead. My stomach flutters.
"Everything's so fucked."
He speaks! "How so?" I hit the cig and hand it back to him.
"I've spent the last 24 hours trying to not think about the answer to that question."
"Then let's not think about it. Let's go, I'll have George get food for you so you can eat when we get back home. And we can just sit around and not think about the answer to that question."
He opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but then changes his mind, finishing the cigarette and flicking the filter onto the street.
"I don't want to see George."
"Why not?"
"I don't want to have to answer all his questions about where I've been."
"Then I'll send him back to your place and you can hang out at mine. How's that?"
He doesn't answer me, but instead just starts to stand up, not making eye contact with me, his gaze kept staring directly downwards at his feet.
I stand up as well, quickly texting George to update him on the plan, and walk with Matty back towards 102, my arm around his waist, and his slouched over my shoulders.
//
I turn the key, those brass numbers staring at me, and I let out a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding in. We're back. Matty is safe.
He slowly walks over and calapses on my couch. Stepping over towards him, I hand him a cigarette, then light my own and sit next to him.
"You scared me, you know."
"I didn't mean to."
"I would hope not." I take a hit from the cig and turn to face Matty. "I'm glad you called me."
He looks up and makes eye contact with me, for what feels like the first time since I found him sitting on the sidewalk. "I'm glad you answered."
We sit in silent for a few moments, blacking our lungs, while I enjoy the feeling of knowing he's somewhat safe.
He sighs, as he puts his cigarette out in the ashtray. "I don't know what to do, Nova."
"About what?" I snub mine out in the ashtray as well.
"I have this ex, her names Gemma. We didn't exact end on good terms. She called me last night."
"What she say to you that has you so... upset?"
He looks at the floor. "She told me she's pregnant."