/ / A V O I D I N G M E A N D W A L K I N G A R O U N D Y O U / /
I close the textbook and turn to my roommate. She's in the kitchen stirring some sort of chili sauce. "I think I want to go on the pill."
Anna tilts her head to the side, "Not using condoms anymore?"
"Well...yeah...but...the other night, before Matty and George went to Australia...we didn't..." And it's something that's been bugging me for the longest time, I didn't exactly know how to come about and mention it to Matty, and I suppose that, mixed in with my confession and his nonchalance about said confession, threw me into distancing myself.
Of course, talking to Matty last night, having him sound so out of it, if not a little sad about my sudden distance has got me thinking how silly I'm being. I should definitely be able to talk to him about these things, right?
"Jesus," Anna calls out placing the spoon in the sink and turning to me with a raised eyebrow, "Marcy, he's already about to father one person you –"
"He pulled out," I know it's not the best method and precum is still just as dangerous but I cut her off, absently checking my phone. I haven't gotten a text from Matty since he hung up, but I'm surprised to find one from Natalie. I lock my phone, not wanting to read the text, in time for the door of the apartment to open.
"Who pulled out of what?" Jamie says, but there's something off about his voice, that I have to look up at him. He's wearing a scarf around his neck and it seems so out of place because it isn't a fashion scarf, it's full on knitted wool and it's not at all cold outside.
"Matty, apparently, pulled out of Marcy." Anna answers coming to from the kitchen to take a seat beside me at the table. "What are you hiding under the scarf?"
"Why did Matty pull out?" Jamie says slumping across from Anna, running a hand through his golden hair. It's a lot longer than it's ever been and I idly wonder how it would look in a bun.
Anna frowns and I bite my lips, "because I'm only seventeen and I don't want a baby?"
Jamie furrows his brows for a moment and Anna and I share a look because he seems so out of it, he isn't even fathoming what we're actually saying.
"Why would you get a baby?"
I roll my eyes and Anna ignores him, turning to me, "Do you want to talk to my doctor about it? I can set up an appointment for you."
I nod, "Thanks, you're the real MVP." I turn back to Jamie, "What are you hiding under there?"
"Under where?" he scratches at his neck under the scarf.
"Aren't you hot?" Anna asks, eyeing him as she stands to go check on her meal.
Jamie leans back, scoffing, "I'm always hot." I reach over and tug the scarf from his neck, he's too slow to stop me, and it's already come undone.
"Jesus," Anna screeches, "Have been mauled by a bear?"
I clutch the scarf to my chest, "Jamie..."
His eyes are wide, and his hands are frantically trying to cover the hickeys on his neck dipping into the collar of his shirt.
"Weren't fucking about when you said Drew was kinky..." I whisper.
"No," He groans, giving up and rubbing his eyes with his hands, slouching in the chair and he looks like he's about to cry. "It wasn't Drew...it was Steve."
Me and Anna share a look, "Um...who?" I ask.
"His twin."
"Shit," Anna and I react.
I recover first, "But I thought...you said Drew..."
"I fucked up," He mumbles. Then he sighs, "I don't know actually. One minute I'm doing laundry in the basement next thing, I'm rubbing dicks with him against the dryer and I'm all 'sorry about my animosity, Drew' and he goes, 'I'm Steve' and I'm just..." He looks up at me with wide eyes, "But it's not like Drew and I so much as spoken since I've been avoiding him like wildfire. So it's not cheating, right? Then why do I feel so dirty?"
Anna mumbles something that sounds awfully like, "Because you're disgusting." But I move closer to him, bringing his head to my chest, coddling him like I would a child.
"It's definitely not the worst thing you've done – it was an honest mistake," I console.
He doesn't answer but when I look down I notice that he's tracing one of his new hickeys absentmindedly and I wonder what's going through his head right now. He's hard to read, only because he's almost always too honest for anyone to question what's on his mind, but he's never this quiet or stricken by a hook up.
"How bout we go out tonight?" Anna offers, turning the stove off. Jamie shrugs slightly against me, but I nod in agreement with Anna.
"Why not, it's the weekend, we haven't been clubbing since...Matty..." I trail off thoughtfully.
It's only past six when I check the time, and Anna spoons a few bowls of her chilly for us to eat, but I'm practically spoon feeding my best friend right now and it's sad, honestly, what are we doing with our lives.
"Sure you're not ready to be a mom?" Anna mumbles, eyeing Jamie with slight disgust but a little bit of fondness, too.
There's a knock at the door and we all stare at each other. It might be Louise, but she said she'd be out on a date with her boyfriend tonight, and it can't be one of the twins; they have no idea where I live...Jimmy wouldn't want to associate with us outside of work. I glance at my phone wondering if whatever Natalie had texted me was important enough for her to show up at my door.
I shove Jamie off of me and he protests lightly. Anna plays rock, paper, scissors with me as another set of knocks echo the eerily silent apartment. I lose, rolling my eyes and stalking towards the door.
I pull the door open in time for another set of knocks to be lost as George quickly lets his hand drop.
"George?"
"Hello," He smiles at me and I look behind him to see Matty slouched on the wall beside him.
"Matty?"
"Oh!" Jamie exclaims, "Matty pulled his penis out of your vagina so you he wouldn't impregnate you with his sperm!" I slowly turn to Jamie and George peaks his head in to give him a stare.
"You alright, mate? What's good with your neck?" He scrunches his nose, "Did someone cook? Smells good."
I step aside to let him in. He takes my spot and Anna raises an eyebrow, "Is this gonna be a regular thing? Should I make an extra set of keys for you lot?"
George shrugs, "Like it here. In this city, in general. Might rent a flat somewhere."
I don't really listen to the rest of their conversation, stepping into the hallway to talk to Matty, his demeanor freaking me out a bit. Why did George just leave him if he seems to be in a state of solemnness?
"Matty, you alright?" I ask closing the door behind me as I lightly tread closer to him, wincing as my bare feet touch the cold floor. I take a step back, not liking the thought of so many dirty sneakers touching the hallway floors.
He nods his head, "Yeah, of course."
"Why wont you look at me? Why did you come – has something happened?" He turns his head and I gasp at the purple bruise along his left eye. I glance back at my apartment door as if to see George through the wall – how could he be so offhand over this?
I bolt towards my boyfriend, only my toes my touching the floor barley and I have the urge to squeal or vomit, I really wish I had socks on. Matty catches my hips, hoisting me on top of his feet as he leans against the wall. "Matty...what happened – who did this?" I touch his face, hoping he's able to support my body. I swipe his hair back, my eyes staring down the dark blotch so defined by his pale skin.
He laughs a bit, "You're friendly neighborhood drummer."
I gasp, one hand gripping his neck as I stand on my tip-toes, hoping I'm not crushing his feet, my other hand tentatively touches the bruise, "George did this?" he nods his head and I wait for him to flinch when I accidently apply a bit of pressure. "Why would he do this?"
He smiles, a bit lopsided, "He did it for you, I suppose."
I frown, my heart dropping, "What do you mean?"
He leans his head to mine, "Don't cry, Marceline," His releases my hips to hold my cheeks, his thumbs swiping under my eyes, catching tears that have escaped. "I promise, it looked a lot worse last night." He's trying to be funny, but it's not getting through to me.
"Last night?"
"Let's go for a walk?" He slowly peels off from the wall, gently walking me to the door, my feet never leaving his. "Go grab some sneakers." I nod, opening the door. I hear George arguing with Jamie over something miniscule then commenting lightly with Anna over something else. I slide on some kicks and ask one of them to toss my phone for me.
"We'll meet you at the club," Jamie hollers before the door shuts and I don't have time to call it off. Matty grabs my hand, pulling my fingers into the sleeve of his jacket while I pocket my phone into my joggers.
"I'm really sorry," he says, but he doesn't look at me, and I can still hardly understand how he's even here.
"You've been saying that a lot lately," I point out, my fingers gripping his tighter.
He leads me outside, admitting, "I don't know what else to do."
He's too silent and my head is swimming, he's avoiding all I'm asking, walking circles around the topics I bring up.
He finally sits me on a bench, a little ways by the park. "Are you breaking up with me?" I finally ask feeling small, "Did you fly all the way from Australia so you can tell me to my face? Is that what it is? Why do you smell like tobacco and vanilla?" Matty kneels in front of me and suddenly I'm thinking the opposite, "Are you proposing? Usually, you have to love someone before you ask them to marry you..."
"Marcy," He says quietly, avoiding all my questions, "Shut up."
"Sorry," I say.
He shakes his head, "No, stop that, stop apologizing."
"But I –"
"No," he says, "just listen to me, please." I nod my head pulling my hands to my chest as if to calm my heart. He places his hands on my knees and they're so warm, seeping into my skin like acid. "When I met Stefani, I was at a party. The lads didn't want to go; the people were too snobbish for their liking. I thought I'd fit right in because I'm a pompous asshole."
"No you're not," I tell him defiantly.
He smiles a little and it's a jarring contrast. Its dark enough that the streetlights are on, and I want to tell him how lovely his silhouette looks. His eyes cast down, and unconsciously, his thumbs slowly begin rubbing circles along my calves. "It's true," he says and with such finality, even if I disagreed with him again, it wouldn't feel like I'd be telling the truth.
"Alright," I give in, "So you're at a party nobody else wanted to be at, you take some drugs, get a girl pregnant," I gather the gist of it before asking, "What does this have to do with George punching you?" When he looks up at me, his eyes seem to sparkle, it might be the lighting – I think it's the lighting. His smile is short and barley there and it's making me nervous because I'm thinking the absolute worse. "You're not...dying, are you? You're not gonna spew some Breaking Bad shit are you? Matty?" I frantically reach for his face, my hands cupping his cheeks. He grips under my thighs and pulls me to the edge of the bench, my knees on either side of him as I bend down just a bit closer.
It feels so intimate and I'm scared this connection is going to break with a passing car or something equally disruptive.
"I don't know how to cook meth," he mumbles, "You're being a bit dramatic, love."
"You show up in the middle of the day after being in Australia for a few days with a shiner on your face, take me out to a park and explain some sort of back story to me – and I'm being dramatic? I think I have a little justification to think the worst right now."
He rolls his eyes, or at least, I think he does. Maybe he looks off to the side for a moment, trying to piece together his next set of words.
"Marceline," He sighs, "did you mean it?"
"Mean what?" I ask trying to think back on my side of the conversation.
"That you love me?" he looks up at me and I don't understand what's going on.
I hesitate for a moment before avoiding his gaze, "Of course I do."
"Will you say it? Please, Marcy?"
My mouth goes dry, "But I thought you – but, you..."
"I just need to hear you say it – one more time, please," He's begging now and my heart is hurting because I can feel the inevitable and it's all happening too soon.
"Matty, I –"
"Marcy, please," He places his hands to my face and he thumbs under my eyes. I hadn't realized I had been crying.
"I love you," I say, but my voice is thick.
"Thank you," he says and I don't understand why he won't say it back. "It's selfish of me," he mumbles, "I don't think you'll feel the same when I say what I have to."
"Then, don't tell me." I cut him off. I pull his face to mine and press my lips to him. I don't care that he can taste my tears or feel the hitch of my breath. I don't care that the palms of my hands are sweaty against his cheeks and I don't care that he struggles before melting into me. He pulls me closer and I can taste something sweet and bitter, but I want more of him. "Don't tell me," I repeat. I stand up abruptly, nearly toppling over, grabbing his hands.
"Where are we going?" He asks, getting up as I lead him away. With my free hand, I swipe at my face, trying to compose myself.
"Have to meet Jamie and Anna and George at the pub," I mumble.
"Marcy, you're not getting this, I –"
"No, shut up. You already gotten someone pregnant, you've already done every drug in the spectrum, I'm sure you've had quite a bit of sex escapades – you've done it all and I still love you. I love you, Matthew Healy, and if you think that whatever it is you want to confess is going to make me hate you, then please don't tell me. Not tonight at least. Please. Let me have this last night with you." I don't realize how loud my voice had gotten until I'm at a whisper when I grip his hands tighter. "You said cautionary tale, right?" I don't exactly wait for an answer, "I say love story. Let me end it as that."
He nods his head, to my surprise, and despite the hammering of my heart, blood rushing in my ears, I still hear his reasoning, and it kills me, "Because I love you, Marcy. I love you, too."
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