Being woken up at 7 the following morning wasn't something you had wanted or needed the day after binge drinking. You kept your eyes closed not wanting the hangover to start just yet. You were woken up by the sound of Chris banging on the kitchen counter, more than likely trying to get your best friend to wake up.
Anytime anyone, even you, fell asleep in the lounge, he did his best to annoy them into leaving. Anytime you told him to fuck off he would use the argument that it was his flat and he could do what he wanted.
Your head starts to throb when you hear Chris moaning at Y/B/F for being on the sofa. You hear him yell a nasty comment at her and the next minute you hear your door crack open and feel your friend get in bed next to you.
"Hate that fucker" She murmurs, and you smile to yourself.
"Gunna look for a new flat later and we'll move in together and leave him high and dry" You sleepily tell her before you fall unconscious again.
When your eyes reopen, the clock in your room shows 11:47am and you let out a loud groan. The light that filled your room is blinding and you pull your duvet over your eyes to get used to the idea of being awake. You hear your best friend tapping away on her phone in the mornings silence that always takes place when you either of you stay over.
You get your phone from the table beside you, ready to look through the memes that she's probably already tagged you in. When you unlock your phone however, you are blinded by the brightness of it which immediately intensifies your headache. You turn your brightness the lowest it will go and start looking through your phone.
After silently laughing at memes on Facebook for 10 minutes you start to look through some other apps on your phone. That's when you see you have a few text messages and you tap on them curiously.
You roll your eyes when you see the name 'Daddy' pop up on your screen. You tap on the message and smile at your phone.
How's your head this morning?
You quickly type your reply:
Morning Matty. Heads a bit fucked and feel disgusting but it's nothing a McDonalds can't fix. What about you? x
As soon as it sent, you loudly say, "Shit"
Your friend turns over to you and asks what was wrong and you show her your phone. She let out a loud squeal which hurt your ears and you stuff your head under the pillow.
"What's your problem? Matty Healy is texting you and your acting like a fucking baby" Y/B/F tells you and you let out a sigh.
"I accidentally sent him a kiss, he's going to think I want his dick even more now. For fucks sake" You say, throwing your phone to the other end of your bed.
"What do you mean 'even more'?" She asks curiously and you look at her.
You forgot to tell her. She's going to fucking lose it.
"Matty's tongue may or may not have been down my throat last night, and then he punched a guy for me" You tell her, and she screams, and you head starts to bang.
After 10 minutes of you having to answer her questions, you've had enough and need to escape at least for a few minutes. You felt disgusting.
You walked into your flat's shared bathroom and saw the mess that was yourself in the mirror. Your hair desperately needed brushing and your smudged make up needed to be removed.
After a good wash, you felt somewhat human again, apart from your head and stomach causing you pain. You make went back into your room and sat at the end of your bed, opposite your friend. She tells you that she's just ordered you both your usuals from McDonalds and you couldn't wait.
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Fanfiction'It wasn't his intention to flirt with anyone today. But you seemed to have been sent by the universe for him to rile up a little.' ~*~*~*~ Matty boards a train at Manchester Piccadilly, expecting the journey to bore him to tears. Two hours and one...
