Thank you to the ever lovely @imagine-that-100 for the request from the prompt list.
Why did time always seem to go by so slowly when you were stuck waiting by yourself? Was there a reason that seconds seemed to feel like minutes? Was it just mind games or did it literally create some weird kind of wormhole? Probably the former. I checked my phone for what felt like the hundredth time, hoping that I finally had a ‘on my way!’ message sitting there, only to come up empty. Again. So much for meeting at the bar for six - it was already six thirty. I sighed to myself, thanking the bartender as they handed me the cider I had ordered.
“What’s a pretty thing like you doing at the bar all by yourself?” I heard a voice call from behind me. I instantly gritted my teeth as I turned to face the source of the sleazy comment. Sure enough, the crooked smile, the greasy, slicked back hair, he looked as shady as he sounded.
“Just waiting for a mate.” I said, trying to diffuse this situation before it started.
“They left you here all alone?” He asked as he slid into the stool next to mine. “Let me buy you a drink.” He added as he tried to flag the bartender down. Ugh. Why.
“No thanks, got one.” I said as I held up my cider. “And they’re on their way.” I dismissed.
“I’ll just keep this stool warm for them, then.” He grinned. I could smell the whiskey on his breath. Gross. This evening was headed in a downward spiral if I didn’t cut this off soon.
“I- you really don’t have to.” I grimaced, my eyes darting around the room to try and spot an easy way out of this. I caught sight of a group of four men walking in, eyeing them hopefully. The one closest to the bar seemed well kept. He had a grey suit jacket on, his straight hair was neatly combed back, he was laughing with his friends. He seemed friendly. He’d do. “Oh, this is him now.”
I hopped off my stool, stepping in front of the dark-haired man. “What took you so long?” I asked with a warm smile.
He stared at me in bewilderment, “Me?”
“Yeah, you. Come here.” I said with a light laugh, trying to pretend that this wasn’t awkward.
“What? Why?” He asked with a confused frown.
I grabbed the sleeve of his jacket, pulling him down closer to my level to try and not be overhead. “Please just come here.” I said, trying to look as imploring as I possibly could. This was going to look bad on me if he didn’t come with me. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if this guy shrugged me off and I had to walk back over there. He stared at me for a long moment, before turning back to his friend who had stopped to see what was happening.
“I, erm, suppose I’ll be back in a bit?” He said with a shrug.
Thankfully, this man came willingly with me back towards the bar. And I was even more grateful for him being quite clued on. He took one look between me, and the greasy dude sitting opposite me, to get the hint.
“So sorry, love. Traffic was awful.” He said as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder and kissed my cheek. Geez, he was really going all in. I felt my face burning at the unexpected attention. At least it was going to look the part. “Have you already got a drink?”
“Yeah. Do you want one?” I nodded, turning to him. He really was standing awfully close to me. At this proximity I was able to smell the pleasant smell of the aftershave that he had used.
“I’ll just have my usual.” He said with a smirk.
“Uhh…” My eyes widened as I processed his answer. Fuck. Had this guy just agreed to help me to be equally as annoying as the sleazy one? Maybe I’d just made this situation so much worse. I quickly scanned over his appearance. The neat hair, the grey jacket, he seemed like the kind of person to drink a clear drink. “Gin and tonic.” I ordered apprehensively.
“Close enough.” He chuckled under his breath.
The bartender brought over the extra drink and passed it over to my new found fake date.
“How was work? Did you get that booking sorted out?” He asked casually. God, he was smooth. He was definitely the right person to have grabbed to act like who I was waiting for.
“Yeah! It was a hassle but I got there in the end.” I laughed with a nod, playing along. I was surprised at how easy this felt, to be honest. This guy gave me the vibes of someone that I’d like to have a genuine conversation with, rather than a pretend one. “What about you?” I asked back. I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. Taking a quick glance at it, I saw that it was a message from the friend I had been waiting on – saying that they couldn’t make it. Phew. Good thing I had dragged over someone else instead of just waiting.
“The studio was a bit gruelling but that’s nothing new.” He shrugged. Studio? What on earth did this guy do for a living? He must’ve noticed me frowning at his comment, because he just raised an eyebrow like he was challenging me to question it. In taking a good look at him, this guy was a bit of a looker. There were definitely worse people I could’ve grabbed. “But this evening is making up for it.” He added as he took a sip from his glass. Wait. Was he flirting?
It seemed that whatever this guy was doing worked, because my creepy stalker decided to get up and walk off. I let out a sigh of relief as I looked over at the empty stool.
“Thank god he left.” I huffed.
“He’ll come back.” The dark-haired man shrugged as he slipped into the empty seat. I gave him a questioning look as to how he could know that. “He left his whiskey on the bar.” He added as he gestured towards it.
I nodded in understanding. It was nice at least to have a breather to recompose myself and finally have a sip of my drink. “Thanks for this.” I said after a minute of silence.
“It’s okay.” He replied with what looked like a genuine smile, picking up his gin. “I can think of much worse ways to spend my night.” He added as he eyed me over the rim of his glass.
Now that was definitely flirting. Part of my brain found it ironic to have replaced one guy trying to hit on me with another. But… I didn’t mind so much with this one. “Are you flirting with me?” I accused.
“Are you blushing?” He shot back. The air of confidence surrounding this guy was undeniably attractive.
Before I had a chance to respond, greasy hair man was back. He frowned at the offender sitting in his stool.
“Do you wan-” He started to say, turning to me. But he was cut off before he could finish whatever he was going to ask.
“I can’t believe that you also listen to them!” My fake date laughed loudly. He fell into these shenanigans far too readily. But I wasn’t about to complain. “Shh… listen…” He said, holding up a hand to quiet us. I stopped talking, trying to listen to whatever he had heard. “That’s the sound of me falling in love with you.” He continued.
I let out an uneasy laugh, trying to shrug off his comment. “I’ve been listening to them for ages.” I responded, trying to keep up with how quickly he was building this story.
“Ah, sorry, mate. Just nice to be together after a long day.” He said with a corny grin as he placed a hand on my knee. I looked down at it for a moment, trying very hard to keep my reactions to his blatant flirting in check. “Matty, by the way.” This guy - Matty, said as he stuck out his hand to sleazy dude. “And you are..?” He asked with an eyebrow raised.
“Leaving.” He answered abruptly as he reached between us and picked up his whiskey, before heading on his way.
“Well… that worked.” I chuckled.
“Seems I was an effective deterrent.” Matty said with a nod as he took a swig from his glass.
“You did a good job with that.” I agreed. “You were far too good at it, though.”
“Too good?” He asked with a surprised grin. “That doesn’t seem like it should be a problem.”
I shrugged. “Just makes me question how many times girls have roped you into situations like this.”
“Roping me into it? What if I was the one trying to get out of the awkward situation?” He questioned.
“You really get that much unwanted attention?”
“More than you can imagine.”
We chatted for a bit, actually starting to get to know each other properly now that we didn’t have to play pretend that we already did. It turned out that he was in a band, hence the studio time earlier today. The guys that he had come in with were his band mates, getting a drink after a long day. He had a general sense of charisma and charm about him. The more I talked to him, the more I wanted to keep talking to him. And thankfully the flirting dropped off once there was no longer anyone standing nearby to try and convince. It was easier on my brain to process our conversation without having to also process an attractive man hitting on me. Before I knew it, an hour had passed. I was surprised that he was still hanging around, given that what I had asked of him was done now.
“Did you want get out of here?” Matty eventually offered nonchalantly.
I choked on the cider I had been sipping, trying to recompose my thoughts. “What?” I spluttered.
“He’s still side eyeing you across the bar,” He explained, gesturing towards the other side of the room. He was right, sleazy man was boring holes into the side of my head. “if we leave together then he should get the hint.” Right. That made much more sense than the alternative reason as to why he’d ask that.
Matty’s plan worked. We were not followed when we stepped outside into the brisk night air and ordered an uber. He sent a message to his friends, letting them know that he had to leave. I felt bad. His night had been forced to end because of me. I told him that it was fine now, that I’d be happy to head home by myself and he could go back inside to his friends. But he insisted that he make sure I get home safe. The sentiment was pretty heart-warming, to be honest. I doubt I could’ve picked a better guy to help me in such a shitty situation. Once we were settled in the back of the car, I could finally breathe a bit easier. It was nice to not feel like I was being shadowed.
“Sorry for ruining your night.” I apologised.
“Ah, you didn’t ruin it.” He said with a dismissive hand wave. “I dread the thought about what might’ve happened if I hadn’t shown up.” He continued, staring out the window pensively, before he seemed to knock himself out of whatever train of thought he had been on. “But good thing I was.” He said as he turned back to me with a bright grin.
“Well, thank you.” I nodded. “You were good company, for a fake date.” I chuckled, nudging his side playfully.
“Well… I wouldn’t mind taking you out to a bar again as a not fake date.” He offered, running a hand through his hair. He… what? My brain took a second to comprehend what he was suggesting. “If you’d let me.” He quickly added.
My thoughts kicked into gear as I realised that he thought I might decline. “Yeah. Yeah! That sounds like a good idea.” I agreed.
“I assure you, I’m a much better real date than fake date.”
Eyyyy, thanks for the request from the prompt list lovely anon! I went with a slightly different angle with the “ I’m calling to cancel our date because I’m actually in the ER right now, sorry. I mean… sure? I guess you can come down here but- okay…” context, since I’ve done it once already for Mr Healy and wanted to spice it up. Hopefully you still enjoy it. (Also, it didn’t eat the bottom half of your ask, I’m just a dumbass lol)
“Pete, I just don’t know why you set me up on this date.” Patrick huffed into the phone as he tried to find his tie. Where the fuck had he put it? When did he last even wear it..? Probably for that shitty wedding two years ago.
“Because you need to get laid, ‘trick.” His friend’s voice echoed down the line.
“I’m fine.” He grumbled as he flipped his laundry basket over. It wasn’t there either.
“It’s been ages.” Pete droned.
“Just because you need to fuck someone every three days doesn’t mean I have to.” He shot back, only to hear the bassist laugh in response. “I’m not gonna sleep with someone I’m not into. You know that, right?” He asked as he finally caught sight of the dark blue tie sticking out from one of his dresser drawers.
“You should.” He yanked hard on the tie, but it wouldn’t budge.
“That’s not how it works.” Patrick spat angrily as he pulled on the tie again.
“It is for me.” He could just hear the smugness in Pete’s voice. He didn’t want to go on this stupid fucking date. He’d done it as a favour and it had just backfired on him. The restaurant was ages away and way too fancy, he didn’t even like this girl, and now he couldn’t even get his fucking tie to look half decent.
“Pete, I swear to god-” He started as he spun around and kicked his door in frustration, only to feel pain shoot up his leg and leave him crumpled on the floor.
At the sound of the phone clattering to the floor and Patrick’s strangled cry of pain, Pete became slightly concerned. “Are you okay?” The singer heard his friend ask. His phone was only a metre away, but he felt like if he let go of his ankle he might die. Patrick also saw the sizeable hole that was now in his bedroom door.
“No. Obviously I’m fucking not!” He shouted in the direction of the receiver.
“What did you do?” Pete continued.
“Probably just broke my foot when I kicked the door because I was mad at you and my stupid tie.” He stared daggers at the piece of fabric in question as he said it, hoping that it was able to feel his wrath.
All he could hear was laughter. “You’re a dumbass.” He was going to choke on his rage any second now and just die here on the floor with a broken foot.
“I’m going to fucking smash your bass over your car if you don’t take me to the hospital.” He eventually said through gritted teeth when Pete’s laughter died down.
“Shit. I’ll be there in five.” He mumbled as he hung up the call.
“You fucking better be.”
The drive to the hospital was mostly just filled with the crackling of Pete’s shabby old radio. Patrick was in too much pain to speak. He worried that if he opened his mouth he might just scream, so he opted to keep it shut. He was also still mad at Pete for being the cause of this. But at least he’d gotten out of the date. Shit. The date. “I’d better call her and let her know not to go to the restaurant…” He muttered as he fumbled in his pocket for his phone.
“You probably should, yeah.” Pete nodded as they pulled into the carpark.
Patrick scrolled through his phone for her contact, before begrudgingly hitting the call button. She picked up after three rings, which was a shame – he had hoped he could just leave her a voicemail. “Look, I’m really sorry but I need to cancel our date.” He sighed.
“What? Why?” She asked in what sounded like frustration.
“I, uh… I think I’ve broken my foot?” He answered hesitantly.
“Oh my god!” She gasped loud enough that Patrick had to pull his phone away from his ear.
“So, it needs to be looked at-” He continued.
“Let me drive you!” She offered instantly. He could hear her shuffling around on the other end of the line.
“No, it’s fine, I’m already here-” He shook his head vehemently, even though he knew she couldn’t see it.
“I’ll meet you there. Just let me find my jacket.” She interrupted, clearly not listening to what he was saying.
He decided to just get to the point and be honest with her, “Seriously, I’d rather you didn’t-”
“I’ll see you soon!” She called out, before he heard the click of the call ending.
“I… guess?” He said in disbelief as he stared at the phone in his hand.
“Come on.” Pete said, gesturing in the direction of the hospital doors and holding a hand out to help Patrick get out of the car. Patrick slapped it away, deciding to hobble to the doors by himself.
Once he had checked in, taken a number and sat down in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs, he let out a long sigh. At least it wasn’t too busy in the waiting room at this hour. He felt far too dressed up to be here, still in his good pants and crisp shirt. But no emergency room was complete without a crying baby and a TV that was turned up slightly too loud. The jarring noises rattled around Patrick’s skull incessantly. Why couldn’t he have grabbed some headphones on his way out of the house? He let out another defeated sigh.
“You gonna tell me what’s wrong or you just gonna wallow in your angst?” Pete asked, not even looking up from his phone.
“Why did you set me up with this girl?” Patrick moped. He could’ve had a pleasant evening by himself. But no, here he was with a fractured foot and a jerk.
“Because I am older and therefore wiser than you.” He spoke in an entitled tone.
“Get fucked.” He scoffed with a roll of his eyes.
“Because she’s hot.” That sounded much more accurate.
“Then why didn’t you just take her out?” He questioned.
“I took pity on you.” Pete said as he clapped a supportive hand down on Patrick’s shoulder, which he instantly shrugged off.
“I don’t fucking need your pity, Pete.” He frowned. The notion that he required relationship help from someone like Pete was just downright offensive.
“Well, you need something to help you out. You’re doing pretty hopelessly at the moment.” He said as he tried to wrap his arm around the younger singer.
“Hey! Fuck you!” He nearly shouted, moving to grab Pete’s arm off him. But he was too fast.
“I’m doing you a favour, man.” Pete chuckled. He was about to also need to check himself into the emergency waiting list if he continued like this.
“Mr Stump?” A voice called, right as Patrick had lined up his fist with Pete’s teeth.
“Oh, that’s me.” He mumbled in surprise. “This isn’t over.” He added, glaring at his friend. Pete just flashed his shit-eating grin in response. Patrick gave him the finger.
“He can come too-” The nurse started to offer.
“No!” He cut her off instantly. “He absolutely is not coming.” He said, scrambling to get to his feet and limp over to the nurse. She eyed him in concern before taking a few steps closer to help him walk.
“Come through here.” She instructed as she motioned towards a set of double doors.
“Sure thing.” He nodded as she wrapped an arm around his waist to try and keep some of the weight off his foot. Patrick couldn’t help but feel the little nagging voice at the back of his brain informing him that the attention was nice.
“Just sit here and let’s take a look.” She said as she sat him down in a chair and began rifling through a few drawers. Patrick watched her as she tried to find whatever equipment she was looking for. She was quite pretty. That just made this all the more embarrassing. Having an attractive person deal with your stupid, anger induced injury? Awful.
“I think I might’ve broken it, or fractured it.” He started to explain as he took his hat off and ran a hand through his hair, trying to fill the awkward silence. She nodded along, listening to him elaborate on his pain.
“All right.” She finally said, having removed his swollen foot from his shoe. “Let me know if this hurts.” She said as she began to try and roll his ankle around. He took in a sharp breath, the pain was instantaneous.
“That… yep.” Patrick squeaked, trying hard not to yank his foot away. “Definitely hurts.” He nodded rapidly.
“One a scale of one to ten?” She asked as she gently put his foot back on the ground.
“Nine. Nine point five.” He said quickly, rubbing at the stubble on his chin to stop himself from crying out in pain.
“Okay.” She said, turning around to make some notes on his file. “There doesn’t seem to be any abrasions or cuts, what did you do to it?” She questioned.
“I… er… I was worked up on the phone and kicked a door too hard.” He admitted sheepishly as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.
“Must’ve been an intense conversation you were having there, Mr Stump.” She said with an amused look.
“My friend out there set me up on a shitty date.” He said, jabbing a thumb towards the door.
“Oh? Why was it so bad?” She asked as bandaged his foot to try and keep the swelling compressed.
“The girl he set me up with is more of his type of girl than mine, and now he’s just trying to guilt trip me into going on a date with her.” He explained with a huff. As he said it, he heard her familiar shrill voice echoing in through the waiting room door. “Oh my god, that’s her.” He said, shrinking down in his chair. “Please don’t let her know I’m back here.” He pleaded. He was trying not to sound desperate, but was absolutely certain he was failing.
“You don’t want her to know you’re okay?” She asked with a confused frown.
“I really don’t want to be on this date.” He said truthfully, scratching at one of his sideburns. “I told her I was going to the ER and she just told me she’d meet me her. I tried to ask her not to but she insisted.”
“Fair enough.” She shrugged as she grabbed a set of crutches. “I’m going to send you off for an x-ray to verify exactly what you’ve done. It’s just down the…” She was about to send him back through the waiting room to go down to the x-ray clinic, but then realised he probably didn’t want to go past this date of his. And the puppy dog look he was giving her was too sweet to resist. “Let’s go the back way.” She suggested.
“Thanks.” He grinned.
After a slow and shaky trip down to the x-ray machines, the nurse left him in the technician’s capable hands. The scan took less than five minutes. But then a further ten minutes was spent by Patrick prying to know what his foot looked like. Was it broken? Fractured? Sprained? The answer of ‘I’m not the doctor, I can’t tell you’ just wasn’t good enough. Also, he’d rather not leave this nice, confined room just yet. But eventually he had to give up and go back to the waiting room. He apprehensively pushed the door open, feeling a rush of relief to see Pete sitting by himself.
“Hey, man. What did they say?” He asked as Patrick hobbled over.
“I don’t know. They have to wait for the x-ray to come back.” He said as he tried to sit down. Crutches made everything so much more difficult to manoeuvre.
“Do they think it’s broken?” He continued to question.
“I don’t know.” He said again. “Where did she go?” He asked, glancing around the waiting room.
“She went out to go get a coffee.” Pete answered. A coffee at 11pm? Geez. “Did you want me to-”
“No!” Patrick instantly shouted, earning a death stare from the receptionist at his volume. “No.” He said again, quieter.
“I’ll let her know when you’re free next?” He suggested. It looked like he was trying to contain his stupid smile.
“Please don’t.” Patrick groaned.
The bandages soothed the pain somewhat. Which was helpful considering it was another hour in the waiting room before the results of his x-ray came back. “Mr Stump, please come through.” The same nurse called out.
“Coming!” He spoke, quickly getting to his feet. Pete watched his lack of coordination with the crutches with amusement, at one point sticking his foot out just to be difficult. Patrick stomped on it with his good foot, earning a yelp out of the bassist.
“Take a seat.” The nurse said when he eventually managed to get into the room.
“Is there a reason you never say my first name?” Patrick asked as he leaned his crutches against the wall.
“What?” She asked, seemingly caught off guard.
“You keep calling me Mr Stump.” He elaborated, adjusting his glasses.
“Oh, well… it’s just procedure, I guess? We’re told to refer to patients by their surname.” She answered.
“You can call me Patrick.” He said. She looked over at him, and he suddenly felt self-conscious under her stare. “Uh, if you want, anyway.” He added with a nervous grin. She just smiled back at him.
“Looking at your x-rays, it’s not broken.” She said, bringing them up on her screen.
“Oh, that’s good.” He said, the news brightening his mood.
“You’ve just dislocated it.” She continued, pointing out the leg bone that wasn’t sitting flush with his foot like it should be on the scan.
“That’s… not good.” He said quietly. The worries started building in his head about what that meant for their gig next weekend. Would he even be able to walk by then? Let alone be on stage for an hour?
“It’s not great Patrick, no.” She laughed lightly. The way she said his name pulled him out of his spiralling. “You really did a number on yourself.” The smile on her face made his heart rate start climbing. He realised after a second that he was just staring at her like a love-sick puppy, and should probably say something.
He cleared his throat before speaking, “So, um… What do I do now?” He asked, leaning forward in his seat to get a better look at the x-ray.
“We’re going to need to move the bones back into place.” She replied. He instantly grimaced. “It won’t be as bad as you think. It’ll hurt less once it’s sorted.” She reassured him.
“I’ll take your word for it.” He nodded grimly as he pulled a hand through his hair.
“We’re going to need to take you through to one of the doctors to get them to do it.” She said as she stood up and started moving towards the doors.
“Aw, man. More walking?” He complained. “These crutches are so hard to use.” He mumbled as he got to his feet.
“Have you adjusted them?” She questioned.
“What?”
“Have you adjusted them? To be correct to your height?”
“Oh, uh… no? How do I do that?” He stared down at the large metal contraptions. After a brief moment of laughing at him, she helped him sort out the crutches to be more comfortable. Usually, he would get pretty defensive at being laughed at, but in this moment, he was just happy to have made the cute girl laugh. Maybe all the adrenalin was messing with his brain.
As they stepped out into the waiting room, the nurse nudged his shoulder. “It would seem your friend is having a better night than you are.” She said quietly.
“Huh?” He looked around the room in confusion, before spotting what she was referring to. He caught sight of Pete walking out of the hospital, with his date hanging off his arm. The bastard then had the audacity to turn around and flash Patrick a thumbs up over his shoulder. The fucker.
“I’m gonna fucking kill him.” Patrick said through gritted teeth, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his crutches.
“Wait until your foot is better first.” He heard the nurse say.
“What?” He frowned.
“Don’t wanna give him any extra advantages or you might not succeed.” She explained.
He looked at her in bewilderment for a second, before starting to laugh. “I’m liking you more and more by the minute.”
She ushered him through to the doctor’s room, leaving him sat there waiting and worrying for the next twenty-five minutes. Finally, a doctor came in to reposition his foot. They ran him through a few things that they were going to do, before just jumping right in. The pain was on a new level from anything he had felt before as the doctor forcibly moved his bones. But once it was set as it should be, it started to ebb away slightly. Once the procedure was done, the doctor relegated him back to the nurse’s office. He sat quietly, massaging his ankle slightly to try and relieve some of the ache.
“Patrick, good to see you still in one piece.” She said as she came back into the room.
He looked up at her in surprise, unable to stop himself from cracking a smile. “Good to have my foot reconnected to my leg.” He shot back.
“The doctors sorted you out, then?”
“Yeah.” He nodded as he fiddled with the hat in his hands. “They said you had some medication for me?” He added.
“Yes. I do.” She began grabbing a box out from the cupboard above her computer before handing it to him. “Only take these painkillers once a day - I’d recommend using them to sleep.” She instructed with a serious expression.
“Got it.”
“Keep your foot elevated when you can to reduce the swelling, ice it if it’s hurting too much.” She continued.
“Okay. I can do that.”
“And if you’re really struggling,” She started, handing him some paperwork. “Feel free to ask me for help.”
He looked at her in confusion, before looking down at the papers to see a number written across the top. It took him a second for the pieces to click into place. “Really?” He grinned in disbelief.
“Take care of yourself, Patrick.” She smiled sweetly.
“But if I don’t, I’ll see you more.” He pointed out.
“You can see me without injuring yourself.” She laughed, rolling her eyes at his suggestion.
“Good to know.” He felt like his heart was beating so fast it might explode.
Requested by the ever talented @red---moon off the prompt list~
Flights weren’t really a high point in my life, ironically. The cruising part of the journey was fine, so were the cramped seats, hell, even the meals were okay. It was just the take-off and landing that sucked. Everything was just far too risky. All of the moving parts that had the chance of failing. I hated it with a burning passion. Which, in hindsight, maybe moving a plane’s journey away from home was a bad idea. I should’ve anticipated that regular visits home would become a part of my agenda. But I was going to grin and bear this for the sake of my mother’s birthday. It would be fine. I was sure it was going to be fine. Except that some dark-haired guy was blocking the way to my seat. He was currently kneeling on his own seat in the middle, talking to the three guys sat behind him.
“Excuse me,” I started, catching his attention. He looked at me in surprise. “I’ve got that window seat.” I said as I gestured to the seat to his right.
He glanced down at his seat, before quickly scrambling to his feet and moving to stand in the aisle. “Oh, sorry, sorry. Let me just-” He rambled as he shuffled past me. It was a mission to not be in his personal space with how close the person behind me was standing. Why were planes always so cramped?
“Thanks.” I smiled politely as I squeezed into my seat.
“My pleasure.” He grinned.
Once I had taken my seat, and tightened my belt to an uncomfortable degree, I finally felt like I could relax momentarily on this red-eye. But I was pretty quickly knocked out of my relaxation.
“Matty, did you grab the duty-free tequila?” I heard the voice behind my call out.
“No, I told Hann to grab it.” The man next to me replied.
“That never happened.” The voice scoffed.
The man, Matty, supposedly, was quick to jump back up in his seat to face the offending voice. “I definitely did! When they said over the announcements to pick up your purchases, I said to Hann ‘would you grab that for me?’ ” He said, waving his hands about for emphasis.
“You were sleeping against your suitcase and I had to kick you awake.” Someone else chimed in.
“Yes, and then I asked him to grab the tequila.” Matty said matter-of-factly.
“Are you telling me it’s still at the gate?” Yet another voice asked.
“Fuck sake, Matty.” Someone groaned.
“It’s your fault!” He shouted. A flight attendant who happened to be walking past gave him a threatening look, making him sit back down in his seat properly.
It looked like they were getting ready to close the doors. Some woman took the aisle seat on the left-hand side of Matty. They were closing the overhead compartments. We would be departing soon. I tried my best to keep my nerves under control.
“My apologies for them.” Matty said as he jabbed a thumb towards the three men sat behind us.
I looked at him for a moment, assessing the friendly smile on his face. “It’s fine.” I shrugged. “Why aren’t you sitting with your friends?”
“Because they only allow three to a row.” He said with a light laugh.
“Ah.” I nodded, feeling like a dumbass for even asking. That was what I got for being so distracted by worrying about when we’d take-off. “Sorry that you got stuck here instead of with them.” I added in an attempt to recover from my embarrassment.
“I’m not complaining.” He said with an amused smirk on his face. I was about to start cursing my luck for being stuck next to a sleaze for a ten-hour flight, but thankfully he clarified. “It’s been a long few months stuck with those guys, I wouldn’t mind some different company for a change.” He elaborated.
“Are you guys heading home?” I questioned in curiosity.
“Yeah. You?” He nodded eagerly as he began fiddling with the little air vents above his head.
“Sort of. It’s not home anymore, but I’m seeing some family.” I answered. He made a noise of acknowledgement in response as he finally seemed to get the air conditioning to the right level.
The doors were locked. The safety video was shown. The engine roared to life. And then we were suddenly in the air. I stared out the window to my right as the buildings got smaller and smaller beneath us. It was always a surreal sight to see. I could appreciate taking off for the beauty in the process, but my eyes were still glued to the wing of the plane to make sure all those little flaps moved like they were supposed to. I didn’t even notice how tightly I had been gripping my arm rest until I was pulled out of my thoughts.
“You want some chocolate raisins?” Matty asked as he lightly tapped my shoulder.
I looked across at him in surprise, before glancing down at the bag of chocolates he was holding out. “Don’t we get food on the flight?” I frowned in confusion. I hadn’t thought to bring extra food.
“Oh, yeah. But I wanted some snacks.” He explained as he shoved a few in his mouth.
“You want me to ask if they can warm them up for you, Matty?” The voice furthest away from me called out.
“Shut up, George.” He shouted back through gritted teeth.
“Huh?”
“Hard to explain. It’s a dumb joke. Ignore them.” He said with a dismissive hand wave.
On the plus side, my seat neighbour’s antics had distracted me until we hit cruising altitude. Once we were properly up in the sky, I could calm down. The lady on the aisle seat of our row had already fallen asleep. I wish I was able to achieve that sort of relaxation so quickly on a plane. But I could see the drinks cart coming by. Brilliant. Alcohol. Alcohol would calm me down more.
“Can I get you something to drink, sir?” The flight attendant asked as she pulled up next to us.
“What do you have in the way of red wine?” He asked as he eyed the cart.
“We have a pinot noir.” She answered. Matty stared at her expectantly, clearly waiting for her to continue, but that was their only option.
“I guess that’ll have to do.” He chuckled, before turning to me. “And?”
It took me a second to realise he was asking what I wanted. I hadn’t noticed while I had been so wound up about if I was going to die in take-off, but this Matty guy was quite the looker. The dark curls framed his face well and accentuated his features in the right ways. I was unsure if that made this flight better or worse. It was hard to be attractive on a long-haul trip. “Oh, uh, the same. Thanks.” I said to the flight attendant.
“Don’t forget your tiny plastic cup.” He quickly chimed in as he grabbed one of the dainty cups off of the cart. The attendant watched him in concern as he did so, but didn’t say anything while they grabbed the two miniature bottles of wine. I couldn’t help but laugh as he tried to pass the ridiculous plastic cup over like a full-sized glass of wine.
Food was thankfully not far behind the drinks. There were the standard options of something chicken based, some beef based or a vegetarian option. But the beef ragu pasta smelled too good to pass up. The plastic sectioned plates were always amusing to me. With the little individually packaged main, side, bread roll, butter, and tiny cup of dessert. It was, to be fair, pretty tasty.
“You want my tiny fruit cup?” Matty asked as he gently nudged my elbow with his. “I’ll trade it for your- I swear to god, Ross.” He shouted over the back of his seat, interrupting himself. “If you keep kicking my chair, I’m going to climb over this thing and start plucking your beard out hair by hair.”
“Well, stop reclining your seat so far when I’m trying to eat.” The man behind Matty shot back. He begrudgingly pulled his seat forward, muttering profanities to himself.
“I’ll trade it for your dinner roll.” The dark-haired man said, turning his attention back to me.
I shook my head in amusement. We were only one hour into this ten-hour flight from LA and it seemed like their squabbling was only likely to get worse. “Sure.” I said as I held the roll out to him.
“You guys seem to bicker a lot.” I noted as he placed his fruit cup on my tray.
He made a noise of agreement as he took a bite of bread, “That’s what happens when you’ve been friends since you were fourteen.” He agreed.
“God damn! That’s a long time.” I said in surprise.
“You’re telling me.” He huffed. “Nah, it’s alright. We’re like brothers. We just get on each other’s nerves after being cooped up together for so long.” I nodded in understanding.
The attendants were back around pretty quickly to collect meal trays and hand out the second round of drinks. I supposed that was why they gave small portions, to make sure they were consumed fast enough to clean up as soon as possible. The booze and the food were definitely starting to take effect. I felt like after this second tiny bottle of wine, I’d be drowsy enough to sleep. After tapping around on the touch screen in front of me a bit, the man next to me was eventually compelled to make his presence known again. I wasn’t complaining to have half-decent company next to me on such a long flight, so long as he didn’t keep me awake when I tried to sleep in half an hour.
“What are you watching?” He asked as he shuffled in his seat to face me better.
“I’m playing that dumb trivia game.” I sighed as I took a guess at an answer. Wrong. Who knows where the hell South Africa rates economically off the top of their head, though?
“Oh?” He sounded far more interested than this in-flight game warranted.
“The little trivia game that’s built into these things.” I replied as I nodded towards the screen. “I thought it might kill some time until I can sleep off the rest of the flight.”
“I’ll challenge you to see who can get the most points?” He offered.
I considered the suggestion for a moment, before shrugging, “Go on, then.”
“What do I get if I win?” He grinned with a devious look.
Looking around my tiny space, I tried to find something that could constitute a prize. Eventually I pulled out the in-flight magazine from the seat pocket. “This lovely magazine.” I deadpanned as I held it out like a game show host.
“Oh, wow. Exactly what I have always dreamed of owning.” Matty said, sarcasm lacing his tone as he held his hand against his heart.
“Alright,” He cracked his knuckles for emphasis, “let’s do this.”
“Me first?” I asked with an eyebrow raised. He gave a firm nod. The game was designed like Who Wants to Be a Millionaire – it would present you the question and give you four options to choose from. “What is a group of pheasants in flight called? A bouquet, a parliament, a murder or a flock.” I read off the screen.
“Well, a parliament is owls, a murder is crows-” He began listing off on his fingers.
“It’s a bouquet.” I interjected. Matty watched with interest as I tapped the answer, only to have the big tick appear on my screen to indicate I was correct.
“Lucky guess.” He mumbled as he loaded up his own game.
“One, zero.” I reminded him.
Matty loaded up his first question, running past the tutorial it forced you to sit through. “What band had the hit single Cho- let’s skip this one.” He quickly hit the skip button on the bottom of the screen.
“Why?” I asked with a frown.
“I don’t know the answer.” He said in a strange tone as the next question popped up. “How many football players should be on the field at the start of every match?” He asked, looking over at me as if he was waiting for me to answer.
“Don’t look at me, I’m not helping you.” I said as I threw my hands up.
“I don’t need help. Was just curious if you knew.” He said smugly. “It’s eleven.” The big tick agreed with him.
“Don’t get too cocky, there.” I warned him as he did a quiet little fist pump to himself.
“One all.”
I noticed that they were beginning to dim the lights in the cabin, they must have finished cleaning up the dinner service. “Who was the lead singer of Culture Club?” I asked, trying to speak a bit softer.
“Boy George.” Matty instantly responded.
“Thanks, know-it-all.” I laughed.
“Fuck, wait-” He quickly reached over to try and tap my screen and mess up my answer. But it was too late, I had already gotten it right. “Did you really not know that?” He asked, looking quite mad at himself for giving me the answer.
“Doesn’t matter, I got the point.” I dismissed with a shrug.
“That’s not fair.” He argued as he pulled a hand through his curls.
“Your turn.”
Matty grumbled to himself before reading his next question, “Which fashion brand made the ‘Genius Jeans’ that became part of the Guinness World Records?” He read aloud.
I eyed the fancy boots that he was wearing, and the bright red pants, paired with the thrift store looking t-shirt. He looked like one of those guys who was up to date with fashion. Not that I agreed with his choices. “Looking at your… long-haul outfit, I feel like you know the answer to that.” I noted.
“I do. It’s Gucci.” He nodded with a proud smile.
“Those can’t be comfortable for a flight.” I added as I tapped one of his boots with my shoe.
“It’s about the aesthetic.” He said with a serious look.
“You don’t need to look good for a ten-hour flight.” The last long-haul I’d been on, I was in my pyjamas. Thankfully I was at least wearing something respectable for this one, given my current seating arrangement.
“How else am I meant to impress pretty girls on the plane?” He said offhandedly as a passing flight attendant caught his attention.
“Hey, sorry,” Matty called out, trying to lean over the sleeping woman next to him and catch the attendant, “can we grab another two of these?” He said as he held up his, now empty, tiny bottle of red wine.
“Two?” I asked in confusion.
“You don’t want another?” He asked, his eyebrows raised in surprise. “Sorry, I probably should’ve asked first.” He admitted sheepishly as he pulled a water bottle from his seat pocket.
“It’s just that I’m gonna have to keep asking you to get up so I can go to the bathroom.” I chuckled.
“You can get me-” A swift kick to the back of Matty’s chair, hard enough that I felt it too, cut him off. The water bottle that had been in his hand ended up knocking him in the face with the impact and then spilled water all down his shirt. “Ow!” He shouted as he jumped up in his seat and began swatting behind him. “Ross! Fuck off, you coffee table!” He complained before sitting back in his seat.
“What was that about?” I asked in amusement.
“Don’t worry about it.” He huffed. I noticed the lady on the other side of him try and roll over in her sleep. “Whose question is it?”
“Mine. Which planet has the highest gravity?” I asked, scanning over the answers. “Easy, Jupiter.” I grinned as I flashed him a smug look.
“Which bone are babies born without?” Matty asked. He let out a low noise, I assumed because he was thinking about his answer. “Surely the ones in their ears, or something? I don’t know what those are called, though.” He said as he looked over the answers.
“Nope.” I shook my head.
“Give me a hint.” He urged as leaned into my personal space. It was hard not to notice that he smelled nice. That wasn’t an easy feat to accomplish on a red-eye long-haul. I rolled my eyes, before tapping my knee. “Kneecaps!” He beamed as he hit the answer – probably with a bit too much force, for how much it knocked the seat in front.
“That was too easy. I should’ve been more discreet.” I said with a sigh.
“Your turn.”
“When was the first iPhone released?” I read off the screen. I took a stab at 2009, only to be hit with a giant cross. “Ah, 2007. I should’ve known that.” I reprimanded myself.
“Eyy! I’m up a point.” Matty cheered.
“Who is Green Lantern’s nemesis?” He asked. “Uh… hm…” He scratched as his soft curls with a frown. “I wanna use my phone a friend. Hann-” He started as he began climbing out of his seat.
I grabbed the back of his shirt, yanking him back down into his chair. “No, that’s not allowed!” I hissed quietly, trying to keep it down given most people around us were now sleeping.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t have any friends I can phone.” I pointed out.
“You’ve got me.” He offered with a smile.
“That doesn’t count, I’m trying to beat you.” I laughed lightly.
“It’s Kal-El.” I heard a voice quietly answer from behind me.
“Hey! Don’t help him!” I called out. Matty just laughed triumphantly.
“You gotta get this one to bring us back up to even.” He said, rubbing his hands together in what could only be described as glee at the fact he was in the lead. I waited patiently for the question to load up.
“Which song by Luis Fonsi and Daddy Yankee has the most views (of all time) on YouTube?” I read aloud.
“Despacito.” He answered straight away.
“That’s that song from those memes, isn’t it?” I asked.
“Yeah.” He answered with a nod.
“How do you know that?” I questioned as I tried my best not to laugh at his weird general knowledge.
“I’m on the internet too much.” He admitted, seemingly unphased by that.
“Why did you give me the answer?” I asked with a confused frown. He just shrugged.
We continued through the trivia game, the questions getting progressively more difficult and obscure. There was a bathroom and drinks break in the middle, just to keep our mental energy high. In the end, the score was seven to nine, in Matty’s favour. I just couldn’t compete with the number of strange facts crammed into his brain.
“Congratulations, Matty.” I said, reaching into my seat pocket. “You have earned yourself a copy of American Way.” I presented it to him as if it was the finest of prizes. He gasped quietly before taking it from my hands. And then, he stood up, and began his acceptance speech, much to my horror.
“I’d like to thank my parents, for playing trivial pursuit with me when I was young-” He started, holding his magazine proudly and feigning as if he was tearing up.
“Sit down.” I said through gritted teeth as I grabbed his arm and tried to pull him down. The lady on the other side of him was now wide awake, I flashed her an apologetic smile.
“But I haven’t finished my speech.” He pouted as he sat down. “You want another wine?”
“Nah, I’m pretty tired.” I declined. “I think it’s time to try and sleep off the remainder of this flight.” I declared.
“I suppose so.” He agreed.
The wine definitely did the trick to help me get to sleep faster. It felt like as soon as I leaned up against the window, I was out. But it also didn’t feel like a very satisfying rest, because it was all too soon that I was awoken by something tickling my nose. The sensation of it ended up invading my subconscious, resulting in my having a dream that a spider was on my nose. My eyes snapped open, only to see that it was, in fact, not a spider, but Matty’s hair. Somewhere through the flight, he had ended up leaning on my shoulder, and I was now subsequently leaning my head against his. His soft curls were as nice as they had looked earlier, and now that my nose was practically buried in them, the nice smell I had caught a whiff of earlier was amplified tenfold. I was too easily caught up in the comfort and warmth of how we were sitting, quickly dozing back off. The next time I awoke was when a patch of turbulence caused the plane to shudder.
I awoke with a start, and so did Matty. There was a dazed moment where I tried to remember where I was and who I was leaning against, before I remembered. “Oh, uh, sorry.” I said quietly, feeling my cheeks turning red as I shuffled away from him.
“It’s fine.” He mumbled, adjusting his worn t-shirt. I opened the window shutter, seeing that it was now well and truly daylight. The ground also looked a lot closer than what it had when I last checked.
“Are we… are we landing?” I asked apprehensively.
“We must be.” He yawned as he stretched his arms up above his head.
“Mmmm, great.” I squeaked out, the wave of anxiety hitting me like a cold bucket of water to the face.
Matty quickly noticed my distress. “What’s up?” He questioned.
“I just hate this part.” I confessed, gripping the arm rest of my seat tightly.
“What?” He asked in confusion.
“Landing.” I clarified. “I hate it.”
“Why?” We hit another patch of turbulence as the words left his mouth, and I felt my knuckles starting to turn white.
“It feels like the most likely time for something to go wrong.” I started to explain. “I just keep talking myself in circles. I keep imagining the worst and all of the potential things that could happen.” The more I spoke about it, the worst the thoughts got. Maybe I should’ve just kept quiet. Probably would’ve been easier if I hadn’t made any new friends on this flight that I had to discuss my fear of certain aspects of flying with. Could’ve just continued to suffer in silence like I usually did.
“Nothing’s gonna happen.” He tried to reassure me.
“You don’t know that.” I shot back.
I heard a soft sigh come from his direction, but my eyes were glued to the wing. “Do you trust me?” He asked.
“Should I?” I asked absent-mindedly.
My attention was dragged away from the wing of the plane as Matty pried my fingers off of the armrest and took my hand in his. I stared down at our hands for a second before looking up at him. “I have been on thousands of planes. This is much safer than you think.” He said softly.
“Thousands?” I asked in disbelief. Thousands was a lot.
“Yes.” He nodded. “You are more likely to be struck by lightning than die in a plane crash.”
“Is that true?” I questioned. I didn’t know enough about planes or lightning to dispute it.
“Even if we do crash, they have safety measures in place.” Normally that was the sort of thing that would wind me up more, but the calm tone in which he said it, and the comforting look on his face… for once I felt alright with this.
“Okay.” I resigned.
Matty’s hand thankfully didn’t receive the same treatment as what the armrest had on take-off – I was pretty sure that my nail imprints would stay in the hard foam for many a flight to come. When we were safely on the ground, I finally felt the worry start to dissipate. I reluctantly let go of Matty’s hand as I let out the breath I had been holding.
“Um, thanks. For that.” I said quietly to him as we taxied to the terminal.
“It’s fine.” He smiled as he ran his hand through his curls. They were a lot less neat not than what they had been when he first sat down. “Happy to help.”
As soon as we stopped moving, people were quick to unbuckle their seatbelts and start grabbing their carry-on from the overhead compartments. Matty’s friends sat behind us also readily pulled him into conversation about their plans now they had arrived. Between the other passengers, the four of them trying to sort themselves out, and me grabbing my own stuff, goodbyes were forgotten. I had to admit, a part of me wished it had ended differently. Matty seemed like a great guy. He had been good entertainment for what was set to be a boring flight, and he did a good job of calming me down when I was usually pretty inconsolable. I got the feeling there also might have been a bit of a vibe between us. But that could’ve been my mind playing tricks on me thanks to all the wine. However, it would’ve been nice to have at least traded numbers.
By the time I had made my way to the baggage collection area, I had accepted that I would have to forget my brief seat neighbour. It would be a fun memory to look back on during the flight home.
“Hey, hold on!” I heard a voice call as I grabbed my bag off the carousel. As I turned around, I saw a familiar mop of curls jogging my way with a backpack slung over his shoulder.
“Hi, Matty.” I grinned, unable to contain my excitement about seeing him again. He quickly swept me up in an unexpected hug. “What’s up?” I asked, trying to hide my blushing.
“Sorry that I didn’t get to say goodbye back there.” He apologised as he rocked onto the balls of his feet. “Look, I know you said that you were only here to visit family, but if you get some free time, feel free to hit me up for a drink.” He offered quickly as he handed me a slip of paper. I took it without a second thought.
“Maybe we can go find a pub quiz somewhere.” I suggested with a smirk.
He laughed loudly, and I noticed behind him the lady that had been sat on his left glaring in his direction at the sound, “I’d be keen for that.” He agreed.
I have long since forgotten what prompts from the prompt list that we used for this, but as requested by @imagine-that-100, the third and final part of You Pick a Fight. Enjoy!
True to his word, Matty absolutely did give me hell for everything I had said and done while in hospital. Word spread pretty fast in our circle of friends about how soft I had remarked his hair was, much to my dismay. But my thumb survived, and that was the main concern. I could tolerate the berating for the sake of still having all of my digits. And to be fair, Matty was very helpful in hospital that day, as much as he didn’t tell anyone else about that half of the story. A part of my anaesthesia haze ramblings stayed with me even past that hectic evening. I suddenly felt like I gave that man too much grief throughout our friendship, maybe a few of my pranks were edging on too mean. Not that I was going to give up entirely on that side of our friendship, but I definitely had a feeling that it was time to pull back from how intense they had been becoming. When every interaction between us wasn’t laced with sarcasm and spent looking over your shoulder for what could be coming next, spending time with Matty was actually… fairly pleasant? I found myself actually wanting to be around him.
“Mattyyyy.” I spoke into my phone as I propped it up between my shoulder and my ear.
“Yes?” His voice crackled back down the line.
“I need to ask you a favour.” I started. At this point, Matty was no stranger to my random phone calls for help. I mean, come on, he was rolling in it and had connections everywhere, I wasn’t just going to let that go to waste.
“Mm?”
“My high school reunion is coming up…” I stared at the invitation stuck to my fridge.
“And?” He prompted.
“And it would feel extremely vindicating to have a nice date to rub in everyone’s faces.” I finally suggested. Making this call wasn’t easy, I didn’t like the connotations that came with asking this. But, I did really like the connotations that came with rocking up with Matthew Healy in tow. And if I had to go, I wanted to have some fun with it.
There was a pause, and I wasn’t sure if he’d heard me at first. “Ooo, I’m not sure.” He eventually said, sounding like he was thinking on it. “But I can see why you’d ask.” He added.
“What?” I frowned in confusion, not that he could see my expression anyway.
“I mean, why wouldn’t you want to be seen with someone as drop dead gorgeous as me?” He said. I gave a snort of laughter in response, but he didn’t continue any further.
I let out a deep sigh, then said the thing I knew would get him to go, “There’s an open bar.”
“I’ll be there.” He replied instantly.
“Great. Thanks.” I nodded.
“My pleasure.” I could just see his shit eating grin through the phone. Hopefully this idea didn’t backfire on me.
* * *
After a few weeks, the fateful evening rolled around. As promised, Matty drove round to my place, dressed very smartly in a nice button down. Which, after the crocs getup I’d seen him in literally the day prior, this was a vast improvement. But I couldn’t help but notice the bags under his eyes, and the way his eyelids drooped.
“Are… are you feeling okay?” I asked apprehensively as I let him in.
“Huh?” He seemed pretty out of it.
“How long has it been since you’ve sleep?” I asked with a short laugh.
“A week?” He answered, seeming entirely serious about his answer.
“Jesus, Matty. Why? What’s keeping you up?” I asked in concern, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“Erm… Album stuff, you know.” He shrugged nonchalantly.
“Are you sure you’re good to go to this thing?” He looked in no state to be on a night out. But as soon as I questioned his ability to attend, he perked up.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine.” He nodded quickly, running a hand through his messy curls. As much as he’d dressed up, it seemed that there was no controlling that hair of his. “C’mon, let’s go.” He said as he gestured back to the door.
We ordered an Uber, neither of us wanting to commit to being the designated driver and passing up on the free booze. Once we had clambered inside, I laid down a few ground rules about what to tell people if they asked. All the stuff about how we met, why we got together, the things that we had to make sure to agree on to get our story straight and seem believable.
“All right, so I’d appreciate if you tried to be a bit more tactful than usual.” I ended my spiel, giving him a serious look.
“Be as embarrassing as possible, got it.” He said with a firm nod.
“Can you please just listen to me for once?” I said as I rolled my eyes.
“Or-” He said, pointing a finger at me for emphasis, “I could not listen to you, and we could pull many fantastic pranks at this stuffy party.” He suggested.
I thought on this for a moment. “What did you have in mind?” I asked with an eyebrow raised.
“We can raise hell together - spike the punch, spread rumours, heckle the speeches, that sort of thing.” He elaborated with a devious smile.
The offer was tempting, but then I remembered that I was meant to be making a good impression. “No, no. I just… would rather be quietly impressive instead of causing a scene like we usually do.” I said, tearing my gaze away from him and looking back out the window.
“Whatever you say.”
When we rocked up at my old high school, it probably shouldn’t have surprised me that everything looked exactly the same as what it did when I was a student. The buildings were a slight bit more run down, the signs were starting to wear away, it was nostalgic in a very uncomfortable way. We followed the small arrows staked in the ground, making our way through the school to where the reunion was being held. As we approached the doors, Matty stopped me, looping his arm with mine with a smile before walking in. The gesture instantly reminded me of why I had been worried about asking him to come as my faux date. Other than him getting the wrong idea, I didn’t want to dredge up any repressed feelings since that day in the hospital a few months ago. This thought was quickly squashed once we stepped into the room and had the tacky decorations shoved right into our faces. I had no idea what theme they were trying to achieve, but if it was ‘awkward high school disco’ they had successfully done it. However, I was pretty chuffed with the stares that we were getting as we walked through the room. By the look of the whispers that I saw being passed around, clearly Matty was recognised. Most of the people I had spotted I didn’t overly want to talk to, so I was glad to have brought a plus one that I could hang out with to avoid stifled pleasantries with people I’d not seen in over a decade.
“Why is there a deer in the room?” Matty whispered in my ear as he gestured to the large buck that was sectioned off in the corner.
“School mascot.” I answered.
“What?” He asked with a frown.
“The football team, they’re called the bucks or something.” I explained, pointing out a banner on the wall with the cartoon version of the animal.
“So… they have a deer? A real live deer?” He continued with an incredulous laugh.
“Yep.” I nodded.
“Let’s go tie shit on its antlers.” He said eagerly, attempting to drag me towards the animal.
“No.” I quickly hissed, pulling him back towards the bar. “Let’s go get a drink.” I offered instead.
With a drink in hand, Matty was much easier to keep under control. We drifted around to a few conversations, dropping stories of accomplishments and various other brag worthy things. After about half an hour, though, he started to get restless.
“Hey, where’s the woodshop?” He asked quietly as his eyes darted around the room.
“Why do you want to know?” I asked back, narrowing my eyes in suspicion.
“No reason.” He said with a shrug. “What about the art room?” He questioned with a smile playing on his lips.
“What are you scheming?” I accused.
“Nothing!” He threw his hands up in defence. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom and then get another drink. You want one?” He asked.
I stared at him for a moment, trying to work out what idea was turning over in that head of his. “Sure.” I conceded, watching as he strolled off.
I was apprehensive about letting him wander off alone, what with his track record. But I had no reason to stop him. Once left to my own devices, I had to begrudgingly start conversations with my old classmates alone. I didn’t realise how much I missed having Matty to bounce off of in conversation until he wasn’t there. The time ticked by, and he still hadn’t returned. When I finally felt the need to go looking for Matty in case he got lost, I spotted him on the other side of the room sparking up conversation with a group of people. He looked very animated in whatever story he was telling, and then I saw him gesture to his thumb. Oh, no.
“Whatever he’s saying, he’s lying!” I called out, interrupting the person who had been speaking to me. Matty, clearly hearing my voice, looked up and waved with a smirk.
“Why did you even come with him if you were worried about his behaviour?” The guy I was speaking to huffed.
“I’m starting to forget.” I muttered, making my way through the crowd to work out what on earth he was saying. When I made my way to the small crowd that had formed around him, he was indeed telling the story about how I’d nearly cut off my thumb. However, he was telling it in a way I hadn’t heard before. He was embellishing the details about how helpful he was, about how happy I’d been to see him when I woke up, instead of his usual speech about how embarrassing it was for me. It felt pretty heart-warming to actually hear him acknowledge the other side of that night.
“That’s so sweet of you!” One of the girls from my English class cooed.
“She’s worth it.” Matty replied as he planted a kiss on my cheek. I instantly felt myself burning up, before plastering a smile on my face to try and keep up the charade I had concocted.
When I finally pried him away from his crowd, we went to go get another drink. What was the point of an open bar if you didn’t take advantage of it?
“You really think I’d throw you under the bus in front of your own classmates?” He asked as he nudged me in the ribs playfully.
“I just never know with you sometimes.” I chuckled as I grabbed a bottle of cider. “Are you feeling better, then?” I added, noting his much more jovial appearance than when I first saw him today.
“Hm?” He questioned as he took a swig from his drink.
“You looked pretty sleep deprived when you rocked up at mine earlier today.” I clarified.
“Oh, uh, yeah. Much better.” He nodded, glancing down at his dress shoes.
“What’s been keeping you up?” I asked in curiosity, starting to walk back over to the centre of the room.
“Well, if I’m honest-”
“All right everyone, take your seats.” A voice interrupted over the loud speakers.
Right, the speeches. People who had been notable in high school had been asked if they wanted to stand up and tell people all about where they were at now. Thank fuck I hadn’t been picked for that. We began shuffling over to the lined-up seats at the front of the room near the stage, Matty and I happily taking a spot near the back. As the speakers went to sit down in their chairs on the stage, all of the legs collapsed beneath them, sending the six people up there sprawling onto the wooden floor. A few quiet laughs came from the crowd. But I recognised that handiwork.
“Did you do that?” I asked, turning to Matty.
“I have no idea why you’d suspect me.” He answered, clearly trying (and failing) not to smile.
“Is that why you were asking about the woodshop?” I realised, my voice growing in volume slightly as it clicked in my head. Someone shushed me from the row behind us.
“I’m sorry, I don’t speak dumbass.” He shrugged.
“Real mature.” I mumbled, turning back to the stage to see them bringing new chairs over. He just wrapped an arm around my shoulder and pulled me into his side.
After that, the speeches continued without a hitch. I had to admit, at least Matty’s antics had brought some fun to the dull event. Because besides the chairs collapsing, the hour-long spectacle nearly put me to sleep. Once they’d finished up, they began playing the music a bit louder than what they had been and packed the chairs in front of the stage away, encouraging people to use it as a dancefloor.
“Do you have any idea on how frustrating you can really be?” I frowned as we made our way over to the corner of the room to speak without people overhearing us. “You could’ve hurt someone.”
“Come ooooon.” He said, rolling his eyes. “You know you want to make this place a bit livelier. You’re never gonna see these people again, right?” He continued, leaning against a rail.
“Right.” I agreed.
“So, let’s have some fun.” He grinned. “You know we make a good team.”
I thought about it for a moment, and he had a point. This event was pretty boring, and we were a good team. Matty had been going out of his way tonight to do what I had asked of him, the least I could do was let him get some enjoyment too. “Fine.” I agreed. Watching as the large buck began chewing on Matty’s arm. “You might wanna keep an eye on your jacket, though.” I said as I gestured to the animal.
“Huh? Oh, wha- Hey!” He shouted as he yanked his sleeve out of the deer’s mouth.
Once he had been given permission, Matty kicked into full prank mode. Shoelaces were tired together under tables, lettering on signs were rearranged, jackets and hats mysteriously changed tables. Most of what he wanted to do was harmless fun, and it was entertaining to watch him dart around the room and work his magic. Tonight was actually turning out to be pretty fun. I had thought that maybe Matty might feel awkward about it, or maybe I’d feel awkward about it, but things were going really well. It was nice to get the chance to have an evening with just him. Normally it was a group of us and I always felt mildly attention seeking for taking up his time. To have his undivided attention for the whole night left me with a warm feeling. Matty eventually wore himself out, and guests were beginning to get suspicious of the guy who seemed to constantly be in the background of every minor inconvenience. When he seemed satiated prank wise, he managed to con me into getting onto the dancefloor with him. Normally I’d be pretty intimidated about dancing in front of such a judging crowd, but between the good company and the many drinks I’d had, I didn’t really care.
Suddenly, a bunch of glitter starting spewing out through the vents onto the dance floor. The music stopped, drawing everyone’s attention up to the sparkly downfall. To be honest, this looked far better than any theming the school had done themselves. But I knew this was not something that they had planned.
“I admit, this is pretty impressive.” I said quietly to Matty, who just had a very proud smile.
“See? I told you that we should raise hell.” He laughed loudly.
“I guess it was pretty fun.” I confessed.
“You should really listen to me more.” He said softly, taking my hand in his. I watched the glitter fall for a moment, before looking back down to see him still staring at me. I frowned at him, waiting for him to say something. “You have the cutest smile I’ve ever seen right now.”
“You’re looking pretty starry-eyed yourself there, mister.” I shot back, figuring that he was joking.
“Well, it’s hard not to be when you’ve got the best date in the room.” He added, tugging on my hand, pulling me closer to him.
“Wasn’t that meant to be my plan?” I said with a chuckle.
“After speaking to your classmates, I’m pretty sure you got it backwards.” He answered as I placed a hand on his shoulder.
A moment or two passed before Matty took in a deep breath. “I was up all week because I was worried about ruining this for you.” He blurted out. “I didn’t want to be a disappointment.”
“You’d never disappoint me.” I dismissed.
“Things are always more daunting when you’re doing them with someone that you’re into, you know.” He explained.
“I… you… what?” In my surprise, I couldn’t get my words out right. Had he not been kidding for the last five minutes with everything that he was saying? A lot of moments over the last six months suddenly made a lot more sense.
“You’re not getting me to say it twice.” He said with a small smile.
“How long?” Was all I could manage to ask.
“For ages.” He said simply. “Why do you think I stayed with you in the hospital? Why do you think I spend so much time with you? Why do you think I bother you so much? You think that it’s me who’s teasing you to the guys, but it’s them teasing me about you.” He answered.
Everything that I had felt in the hospital was now in the forefront of my mind. Maybe I hadn’t been so crazy to want to flirt with Matty then. Certainly, in this moment, his confession had my heart rate picking up and my mind reeling. “Then what was with all the pranks?” I said, shoving his shoulder slightly.
“Kept your attention, didn’t it?” He chuckled.
“I suppose so.” I agreed. “I think I’m into you too.” I said quietly.
“I know.” He nodded.
“What?”
“You told me so when you first woke up in hospital. You slept for a few hours after that, though.” He elaborated. “You don’t remember?”
I shook my head, but for what I did remember, if I had said that, it made sense. “So… is this a real date then?” I asked out of curiosity.
“It can be.” He shrugged.
“I’d like that.” I smiled, leaning up slightly to catch him off guard and kiss him briefly. “But first, we’d better get out of here before they realise what you did.”
A fic for someone other than Matty? Miraculous, I know. Thanks for adding some diversity to the mix @robinrunsfiction with your request from the prompt list. :P
Why were family events so awkward and stifled? Was it just a prerequisite of getting together with extended family that by default there had to be repeated pleasantries, uncomfortable questions and weird plus ones? Or was that just my family? Thanksgiving was never fun for this exact reason. The food was nice, but having to mentally prepare for at least three days prior for my aunt’s annoying speeches about what she had already accomplished by the time she was my age was not. But it was only once a year. I only had to grin and bear this for just twelve hours, once a year. I could do that. The best bit of this whole weird gathering was that my sister had decided she required a plus one this year. Apparently, she was fed up of the berating from our grandparents about when she was going to get a stable boyfriend, so she had dragged some poor outsider into this mess. However, that outsider happened to be someone that I already knew. Instead of choosing someone from her own social circle (she thought our parents might get suspicious if it was someone that they had already met), she chose someone from mine. Spencer was my best friend, and she had decided to “date” one of his good friends, Ryan.
It was pretty obvious that they weren’t actually dating. They were overdoing it. The constant hand holding, the sappy remarks, the sweet smiles - it was sickening. Anyone who was paying attention would be able to notice that all of this intimacy was entirely surface level. There were no stories about how they met, no retelling of funny dates, no actual kisses exchanged. My family seemed to buy it, but I wasn’t. I knew full well Spencer would’ve told me if Ryan started dating my sister. But it definitely gave the extended family something new to discuss and fuss over. I’d only met this guy a handful of times in passing over the years and he seemed fairly reserved from what I had seen. Spencer usually talked highly of him. But here he was, fake dating my sister and trying to charm a family that wasn’t his own. The whole charade was leaving a bitter taste. My family were shitty to deal with, sure, but it was still pretty underhanded to deceive them like this. I thought better of my sister than to pull a stunt like this, and I thought Spencer kept better friends than this, too. Apparently not.
“What do you do for work, Ryan?” I heard my dad ask as I tuned back in to the dinner conversation.
“Yes, Ross. Enlighten us.” I chimed in, putting my phone down to hear his answer. I had been texting Spencer to ask if he knew about this or not (he didn’t), and to cross check what Ryan was saying. So far, everything he’d said tonight had been a lie. Where his family lived, what he was studying, he was painting the picture of a perfect boyfriend.
“Is there a reason you never say my first name?” He asked with a frown.
“Well, from the brief time that I’ve known you, I just don’t think that we’re familiar enough to be on a first name basis.” I answered with a fake smile.
“He’s your sister’s boyfriend!” My mother chastised.
“Well, he should act more like it then.” I muttered under my breath.
“What?”
“Nothing.” I quickly dismissed. “So?” I asked, turning back to Ryan.
“I’m an intern at a law firm.” He absolutely was fucking not.
“Oh, that’s good!” My uncle beamed. “Must be lining you up for a good paying job?”
“Yeah, I hope so!” The dark-haired boy laughed nervously.
“What firm are you at?” Now this was going to be interesting.
“Uh…” His wide-eyed floundering made it clear that he hadn’t been prepared with details to support his lie. Thankfully, my sister quickly came to his aid and rattled off some firm that she had heard of. Good save.
“That’s a really good place. They’ll set you up well to take care my little niece here.” He said as he placed an affectionate hand on said niece’s shoulder.
“Only the best for my love.” Gross. I needed to get some air or I was going to throw up all my turkey from how soppy that was.
“I need a drink.” I sighed, excusing myself from the table.
Sure enough, as soon as I started pouring something into my glass, Ryan walked into the kitchen too. I couldn’t even get one moment of peace this evening. Great. He wandered aimlessly around the room, opening a few cupboards before turning to me.
“Hey, where’s the-”
“You’re not in love with her, are you?” I interrupted.
“I, uh… Yeah, I am.” He tried his best to defend himself, while also vehemently avoiding my gaze.
“No, you’re not.” I said, shaking my head.
He cleared his throat and glanced at the doorway before speaking, “What makes you say that?”
“I know my sister well enough to see when she’s faking it.” I answered simply.
He let out a long sigh, looking torn about whether or not to admit it. “Look, could you just keep this between us?” He said eventually.
“Why would I? What’s in it for me?” I scoffed as I kept making my drink.
“I dunno. I’ll give you fifty bucks or something.” He said with a shrug.
“You’re trying to bribe me for my silence?” I laughed loudly; Ryan quickly shushed me in response.
“No, I- ugh. What do you want?” He grumbled in frustration. “Can’t you just drop it?”
“Why are you even doing this?” I frowned, dodging his question. “Actually, never mind, do I even want to know?” I added as I placed the tonic water back in the fridge.
“I offered to do it as a favour when she suggested asking someone.” He replied, still looking around the kitchen for whatever he was after.
“You instigated this?” I asked in surprise.
“Yes. To help your sister out.” He said with a nod. Hm. I supposed maybe he wasn’t such an asshole after all. “Got it!” He said, proudly holding a jar of relish as he left the kitchen.
As expected, the silence was short lived. When Ryan left, my mother came in looking like she was on a mission.
“What’ve you got against that boy?” She asked in a stern tone as I poured the gin into my drink.
“I just don’t think he’s good for her, is all.” I answered vaguely.
“Why?” She interrogated. I shrugged, but apparently that answer wasn’t good enough. “Why?” She repeated.
“They don’t seem like they’ll be together long.” I tried my best to dodge her question. She stared at me for a long moment before deciding that was acceptable. And thankfully she dropped the topic before I spoke on it any further.
“Can you bring the pie in with you?” She asked sweetly as she grabbed a stack of dessert plates.
“Sure.” I mumbled as she walked out. Before I even moved to grab the pie, I poured myself a straight shot of the gin. I was going to need something strong to get through this evening.
By the time I finally came back into the room, Ryan was in the middle of regaling some story to try and get my family to like him more. But it was only a matter of time before he put his foot in it. “I was at practice the other day-”
“Practice?” My dad asked in curiosity.
“Band-” He realised what he’d said as soon as the word left his lips. But he’d said it now, there was no taking it back. “Band practice, yeah.” He admitted sheepishly. I saw my uncle share a look with my dad over this new information. A junior lawyer in a band? They were right to be suspicious.
“You’re in a band?” My sister gawked. She didn’t even know he was in a band with Spencer! What, had they exchanged all of five sentences before tonight?
“Yeah.” He nodded. “I could put you on the guestlist one night, if you’d like?” He offered with a smile.
“I’d like that.” I piped up.
“Oh, I… Yeah… Okay.” He stumbled, looking like he hadn’t expected me to take him up on that. Maybe it was the gin going to my head, but I suspected maybe I could have a little fun with this to make tonight a bit more interesting.
The drinks did indeed make things much easier. They also made a lot of this funnier. I watched Ryan and my sister fawning over each other during dessert, and it was no longer gross, now it was just humorous. After my dad cleared away the plates, they were exchanging romantic comments and staring at each other wistfully.
“Gosh, when’s that gonna happen for me?” I asked with a faux dreamy expression.
“Huh?” Ryan asked in confusion.
“When will I land myself a boyfriend like you?” I elaborated.
“Maybe if you had kept your last job you might’ve met someone there.” I heard my aunt say. But her passive aggressive comments weren’t going to sway me this time.
“It’s a shame Ryan isn’t single.” I pouted. Ryan choked on his drink as I said it, instantly spluttering all over the table. He excused himself and ducked to the bathroom, leaving me trying very hard to not break into hysterics. I suspected I hadn’t been too far off the mark when I picked him to be quite shy, because it seemed that legitimate flirting (not fake flirting) was something he couldn’t handle.
It was pretty easy to carry on like that once I got the ball rolling. And by some stroke of dumb luck, my parents saw it as me warming up to Ryan rather than me messing with him. Whenever the night was nearing its end, I kicked Ryan’s shin under the table to catch his attention. He looked over at me with an exasperated expression, obviously fed up of having to tolerate my antics.
I leant in before speaking, making sure I had his full attention, “I really, really want to kiss you right now.” I said quietly.
His eyebrows shot up in shock, his mouth opening and closing a few times while he clearly tried to think of what to respond. “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.” He eventually settled on. I just shrugged. “Why would you want to?” He questioned.
“To start drama.” I chuckled.
“Do you do this stuff at all of your family events?” He asked, shaking his head in disbelief.
“Only the boring ones.” I grinned.
“Remind me to never help your sister out again.” He sighed as he turned back to the conversation happening on the other side of the table.
My fun didn’t last too much longer after that. The sun had well and truly set, and people wanted to get home, which was my cue to leave. I wasn’t going to hang around here longer than I was obligated to. Once everyone had grabbed their leftovers and sorted themselves out, we were left with the awkward goodbyes on the driveway.
“It’s been a great evening.” I said, before grinning in Ryan’s direction.
“It’s been… an evening.” Ryan sighed.
“Aw, you didn’t have fun?” I asked with a laugh.
“Lovely to see you!” My uncle said, cutting my teasing off as he and my aunt exchanged their parting pleasantries.
“We’ll have to do this again sometime.” I said as I opened my car door. Ryan gave me a look like he’d sooner pass out before stepping foot into this house again.
The next prompt from the prompt list~ Thank you kindly for the suggestion @robinrunsfiction
“Patrick.” I said, looking at my boyfriend’s knuckles turning white against the cramped plane seat.
“What?” He snapped as he turned to me with panicked eyes.
I placed a hand on his shoulder in an effort to be comforting, “It’ll be okay.” I reassured him.
“You don’t know that.” He argued as he went back to staring out the window of and watching us take off.
“I do know.” I shot back. He looked at me in confusion. “There were only 26 fatal plane crashes last year.” I quoted.
“That’s a lot.” He said, his voice cracking slightly.
“Out of 31 million.” I continued. Knowing of Patrick’s fear of flying I’d been researching all this week for information that might make this slightly easier on him. I figured if I had enough facts to rebut his fears, maybe he would be able to relax a bit.
He took a moment to process the statistic, taking off his hat and resting it on his knee so that he could run a hand through his short, blonde hair, “Well… that’s… I suppose…” He stumbled over his words, before nodding and looking back out the window.
I took his hand in mine to stop him from digging his nails into the armrest. “At least tell me why?” I asked gently.
“Why what?” He muttered.
“Why are you scared of flying?” I clarified with a small smile.
He let out a deep sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. After a minute of what I assumed was trying to compose his thoughts, he met my gaze. “Because, er…” He started. “It’s just…” His eyes flicked down to my lips before he groaned. “Quit smiling at me, I can’t stop messing up my sentences when you look at me like that and I’m focusing on not dying.” Patrick said.
“Good, let me be a distraction from it.” I grinned, and saw him trying his best not to smile before he clearly got caught up in his own thoughts again.
“Planes just… shouldn’t work. How does this tonne of metal, and people, and bags stay in the air?” He eventually answered - I felt his hand tense around mine as he said it.
“You want me to explain the science behind it?” I offered.
“No. The science doesn’t make it make sense.” He said, shaking his head.
It was hard to try and distract a man who didn’t want to be distracted. He just seemed to wallow in his fear, which then just created a vicious cycle of making it worse.
“You see, it-”
“Shh… listen…” I interrupted, holding my hand in front of his face and feigning like I was listening to something.
“To what??” He asked urgently. “What is it??” His tone was quickly increasing in volume.
“That’s the sound of me falling in love with you.” I said seriously.
He let out an incredulous laugh. “That’s not helping.”
“Are you sure? You’re smiling now.” I chuckled, nudging his shoulder with mine.
“Maybe it’s helping a little bit.” He conceded.
The take-off continued without a hitch, as expected. Patrick continued to nearly hyperventilate, as expected. But once we were travelling smoothly, I heard his breathing even out slightly. He started rattling off odd little tidbits he knew about flying.
“I hear it gets cold, when we hit cruising altitude.” He mentioned offhandedly.
“Good thing you’re really warm.” I said, winking at him.
“Am I?” He questioned, looking like he was blushing slightly as the steward handed us our dinners.
“Here, eat your tiny little sectioned out meal,” I said, handing it across to him, “drink the free booze, and then take a nap with me.” I suggested while he peeled the foil off the top.
“I dunno if I’ll be able to get to sleep.” He grimaced.
“Then drink more miniature bottles of liquor.” I said with a laugh. “It’ll go faster if you sleep.”
He took a sip of the dark liquor in his plastic cup, looking like for the first time since we stepped onto the plane that he might be able to relax. “With you next to me, I think I can manage that.” He smiled, pulling me in close to him and pressing a kiss to my temple.
Next prompt, next prompt, next prompt! Requested by @imagine-that-100 off the prompt liiiiiist :P This was the request:
It was sweltering. This heat wave was borderline unbearable. But thank god George’s parents place had a pool. After them asking George to housesit for the weekend while they were away, we all promptly invited ourselves over to take advantage of the circumstances.
“I am so keen to jump onto that giant flamingo thing.” I declared as I stepped outside.
“Oh, really?” Matty asked with interest, sitting up in his seat slightly.
I flipped my sunglasses down to try and deflect some of the glare off the white pavement. “Been dying to all day.” I confirmed.
He let out a low whistle, and I looked over to him to see a look of pure mischief on his face. “Well, you’d better hope I don’t beat you to it.”
“What? No!” I frowned.
“Yes.” He nodded as he stood up.
“You just want it because I want it!” I debated loudly.
“You have no evidence of that.” He chuckled as he walked around the edge of the pool and picked up the big pink floatie.
I watched in horror as Matty stole my flamingo and jumped into the pool. He came back out of the water with his short curls all stuck to his forehead, smiling triumphantly at me as he clambered onto the floatie. It was a solid minute of me staring at him, trying to calculate my next move. I could feel the other guy’s eyes on me as they watched this unfold in amusement.
“Give me the fucking floatie.” I said through gritted teeth.
“Make me.” He shot back.
“You fucker.” I growled as I jumped into the water after him, trying to land on the floatie and pull it down with me to get him off of it. Unfortunately, I missed, which just made Matty laugh harder. I tried then to flip it from underneath, grabbing the side of it and pushing up. But still, he held his balance.
“You done yet?” He smirked down at me.
“I could literally strangle you right now and no one would stop me.” I said as I tried to think of another plan.
“Aw.” He cooed. “I like it when you’re romantic.”
In the end, I had no plan left other than just to try and fight it off of him. “Give it!” I shouted as I grabbed the edge of it and yanked as hard as I could.
“No!” He shouted back.
“Are you two not nearly thirty? You’re acting like children.” I heard Ross say with a loud laugh.
“I fucking had it first!” Matty argued.
“Yeah but I called it first!” I pushed the point as he slapped my hands off the flamingo.
“Would you two just stop it?” Adam sighed.
“But Matty’s being a dick!” I whined.
“Matty’s always a dick.” George pointed out.
“I wanted the floatie.”
“Just go get one of the others.” The drummer reasoned.
I let out a defeated groan, “Fine.” I grumbled, before turning to glare at Matty. “But this isn’t over.”
Another Matty prompt list oneshot, requested by the ever lovely @aphxsia~
“Ahhh, fuck…” I muttered to myself as I checked my pockets, realising that they did not contain my keys. I’d left them at that guys place, hadn’t I? That was going to be an awkward conversation later today, ‘Hey, sorry I bailed without saying anything this morning. Do you have my keys? No, don’t want a second date. Just my keys. Thanks, though.’ Ugh. Great. Now I’d just have to awkwardly stand outside my flat, slightly hungover, in the clothes that I wore yesterday, waiting for someone to hopefully rock up who had a key to the building. Standard Sunday morning, right? There wasn’t really a way to make this appear any nicer to those walking by than what it was, either. I sort of just had to eye the people ambling along the street, seeing if I recognised anyone from my building or hope that someone came out of the building who recognised me and would let me in. But finally, I spotted someone. There was a guy coming my way with a familiar mop of curly hair. He lived in my building; I was certain of it. I was fairly sure he actually lived on my floor. He didn’t seem to be around a lot of the time, but I’d seen him around the place here and there as we were coming and going. He seemed nice enough from the brief exchanges we’d had, but we’d not ever really spoken more than the odd ‘hi’ in passing. I suppose now was going to be our first proper interaction. Judging by the state of the floral button-down shirt that he was wearing, his dishevelled hair, the five o’clock shadow, it looked like he was doing exactly what I was. I flashed him a friendly smile, trying my best to seem approachable.
He slipped his sunglasses off his nose as he walked up to me, tucking them into his shirt pocket. The way he was looking at me gave me the impression he was making the same conclusions about my morning as I had about his.
“Locked out?” He asked with an eyebrow raised.
“Uh, yes.” I confirmed sheepishly. “It’s Matthew, right?” I was fairly sure that was the name I had seen floating around.
“That’s me.” He said with a nod.
“Can you let me in?” I asked hopefully.
He let out a sigh, but the look in his dark brown eyes seemed amused by this whole situation. “Sure.” He shrugged as he stepped around me and headed towards the door.
“So… Bad date?” He asked over his shoulder, fishing his keys out of his back pocket.
“What makes you think that?” I asked with a slight feeling of defensiveness. Was it really that obvious?
“Why else would you be sneaking home so early?” He laughed. “And wearing what you were wearing when I saw you last night.” He added as he pulled the door open for us.
“You saw me last night?” I asked in surprise.
“Saw you jumping into a taxi as I was leaving myself.” He answered. That made sense, I supposed. But I was none the less impressed he remembered such a brief moment when we hadn’t even spoken.
“There was… a lot of room for improvement.” I eventually offered, not wanting to discuss details. “You?”
“Mm, about the same.” He nodded, pressing the button for the lift.
As we stepped inside, I watched out of the corner of my eye while punching in my- our floor as he pulled a tiny bottle out of his pocket. It looked like one of those little bottles of liquor you get from a hotel minibar. “Is that vodka?” I frowned. He just grunted in response as he twisted the cap off and knocked back the bottle. The sight made my stomach turn. To drink straight vodka so early? I needed to be pretty drunk to be able to tolerate it at all, let alone at this hour. “Isn’t it only seven in the morning?” I asked in shock.
“Hair of the dog.” He explained as he shoved the empty bottle back into his pocket. “What was so bad about him?” He asked.
I groaned, trying to work out how to explain it without taking up half an hour of this guy’s time. “Uh, well, it turned out his dog died yesterday. So, most of the date was spent with him crying.” I winced at the memory. “I felt bad for leaving him by himself when he was clearly in need of company. But we just didn’t click and he clearly needs time.” I explained.
“That was really nice of you.” Matthew said with a reassuring smile. “Hopefully the next one is better.” I felt like maybe I should ask what was so bad about his own date, but we didn’t really have the time in this short lift ride.
“I’ve been on more than enough mediocre dates to have had my fill.” He just chuckled quietly. “Starting to think I should take a break from the dating game.” I huffed.
There was a beat of silence as the lift came to a stop on our floor. “I don’t think you should give up so soon.” He eventually chimed in, rocking onto the balls of his feet as the door opened.
“Oh?”
“I’m sure I could take you on a good date.” He suggested nonchalantly.
“You’re sure, huh?” I questioned. The confidence behind the offer made it ten times more tempting.
“You’re just down the hall on the left, yeah?” He asked as he held his hand up to the lift door, holding it open for me to walk out.
“That’s me.” I confirmed.
“I’ll come grab you on Saturday at six.” He grinned.
