EDITED
Matty Healy lived in a north-east London house, he bought this four-store home in an increasingly pricey corner of Hackney with all the money that he didn't spend on drugs from the band's self-titled debut album.
Matty Healy once said the following to an interviewer that came to his house:
"It's the only house on the road that's isolated, so I can make a lot of noise, make records here. 'Cause that's been part of our ethos forever – we've always made records where we've lived."
This all made sense but right now the fact that the building was in such a remote road made Frankie feel like she was getting fucking murdered by a guy with sweater pals.
"Why are we here?" Frankie said as soon as the car engine stopped and Matty was opening her car door.
"Look you never told me were you lived I figured you could stay the night, I'm not going to try anything it's fine" he reassured her, opening the creaking wooden door were a big dog jumped out off moving his tale and licking Frankie's legs.
"His name is Allen" Matty said almost asking Frankie to further question the naming.
"Allen? that's an unusual name for a dog." Frankie said kneeling down and giving the dog a good belly rub, she had always being a cat person but this dog in particular was adorable.
"It's not his full name," The 27 year old said with a smirk says.
"Ah, what's his full name?" "Allen Ginsberg."
"I'm not even surprised that you named your dog after a poet, how more pretentious can you get?" Frankie asked finally entering the house almost mesmerized by it, it was quite big in all honestly but for some reason it felt homely.
"Hey come I'll show you the room so that you can sleep" Matty said surprisingly sober which was quite weird because Frankie swore that he was driving very funny. (Please drive safely and don't drink while driving)
On the next floor was his bedroom Frankie entered and almost felt like she was an intruder and that she shouldn't be there. There was a mattress on the floor with unraveled sheets and a crucifix on the wall above.
Frankie looked at it questioned and quite confused he didn't look like the religious type and if he was she would get the hell out of that house because she would rather be murdered that fucking be deep throated someone else's beliefs.
Matty laughed and explained to her that he was a devout atheist, but loved religious iconography, which sounded very pretentious to Frankie but decided to stay quiet because she was in fact very sleepy and that bed looked like heaven right now.
"Hey do you have maybe something I could wear as pajamas, this is not the most comfortable thing ever" She said looking at the tight leather skirt and shirt that wasn't really hers.
"Umm sure grab this" Mathew said after a while of looking though his closet handling Frankie a white shirt that said " lol ur not matty healy" and some black Calvin Klein boxers. She tried not to think about the boxers too much and showed him the shirt questioningly.
"Just don't ask, it was a fan". Frankie raised her hands in a defeated look not asking more question other than where was the bathroom which apparently was next door plastered in gold and silver discs.
She changed quickly and came back to the room finding Matty in pajama pants and no shirt, his tattoos on full display. Frankie hardly tried not to drool or say anything stupid for the matter but what she didn't know was that Matty was doing the same because goddamn she looked good with his shirt with gray socks on her feet bruises covering her legs.
"We- I mean you should probably get to bed-I I'll sleep in the sofa" he said eyes on the floor trying to think of Allen as hard as he could not wanting other stuff to get hard.
"Hey no it's fine we can both sleep here" she said getting into bed not putting much thought to it. "Come on Matty Healy don't think about it too much" she said patting the bed and that was exactly what Matty did which was a bad choice because as soon as he got into bed that night with her his heart belonged to her it was as if he finally had find a second home, the first one being on stage of course.
Gabby smelled like coconut but Frankie smelled like brewed coffee, a pack of fags and something else- something he couldn't quite grasp nor he could understand which made everything worse because he hated not knowing, not understanding something bugged him.
For some reason when he closed his eyes that night he was at ease: the slight touch of Frankie warm skin and the tingly feeling of her curly hair made him feel relaxed, for the first night in forever he was okay without the help of cocaine and the thought that she was becoming a new drug for him scared the living crap out of Matty Healy.