That 000000 & ffffff || Matty Healy

Pushing Out Babies Now

/ / P U S H I N G  O U T  B A B I E S  N O W / /

"Hey," I say groggily. I blink to check the time on my phone before placing it back to my ear, "How's...um, where are you?" I ask.

He chuckles lowly on the other line, "Still in Japan, baby - and it's great, amazing actually, you should see it."

I hum in agreement, getting up from the bed, stretching. I sit up, leaning against the headboard. The laptop to the side of me nearly falls, but I catch it in time. I had fallen asleep with it still on.

"I'm sorry I missed your Skype call," he says quietly.

I dismiss it, yawning, "It's fine, Matty."

"It's Valentine's Day - it was­ Valentine's Day."

"Just a day for rose revenue," I laugh.

He sighs, "Marcy, when I answered you were asleep," he chuckles a bit, "Your ass was in view though, and don't act like you don't care, you wouldn't have worn the red lacy set while laying in the confines of my bed if you didn't care."

I roll my eyes, running my fingers through the mouse pad on the laptop, watching it glow to life. "Fine," I admit, "I'm a bit upset, is that what you want to hear, Matty? I got all dressed up - or I guess underdressed - and waited for a Skype date, only to fall asleep and have you wake me up at four in the fucking morning - shit, Matty."

I call him on Skype and he picks up, hanging up on the regular phone call. He frowns, "Marcy, I don't want to hear that, but I don't want you lying or dismissing your feelings for the sake of me." He sighs, "turn a fucking light on, I can't see your face."

"I don't want you to fucking see me, I look like a mess," I grit, but I reach over, turning on the lamp at the side of his bed anyway. "I'm not dismissing my feelings, fuck you, you're not that important," I lie; fixing the screen so I'm in line of view. I narrow my eyes at the bright sunlight streaming through the window behind him. "I'm aware of time zones, I wasn't expecting much."

"Yeah, fuck you too," he mumbles, running a hand through his hair.

I roll my eyes, "What time is it by you?"

He shrugs, "Past noon, I guess." He quirks an eyebrow, "I miss you."

"I miss you too," I confess, sighing.

"You look pretty."

"My mascara's smudged." I glance at the bed sheets where I had been fallen asleep earlier and cringe at the smear of makeup I left there. "I'm going to have to do laundry. Anything you need me to wash? Ask George too," I sigh.

"You always look pretty, Marcy. And I dunno, there might be some stuff in the hamper." He scrunches his nose, "and fuck George. Er, not literally but imaginatively."

I can't help the tilt of my lips, "You want me to imagine fucking George?"

"Hell no."

"I bet he's huge," I say, teasingly.

He glares, "He'll rip you in half, that's not cute, Marcy."

I shrug, "Maybe I have a size kink."

"I'm hanging up," He threatens.

I laugh, "No! Stay, I'm sorry, you're perfect for me, I love you."

He laughs, "Are you still upset with me?"

I shrug, "flip the camera and show me you touching yourself. I'll get over it."

"Marcy," he warns, "I'm waiting for an interview, don't do this to me now."