Yet You're my Favorite Work of Art

Chapter Seven

"Where are you going?" I flinch as the voice comes floating through the hotel room.

"Um, to get some food?" It comes out as a question for some reason. He sighs and stares at me with big eyes. His hair's a bird's nest on top of his head, sticking out in all directions.

"Oh, really now?"

"Matty-"

"Come on, Ryan. I know I'm just a fuck to you, but I deserve more than a one night stand. Well, a two night stand now." It's my turn to sigh. Matty sits up in the bed, his chest still covered in sweat from our activities the previous night.

"Well what do you want me to say, huh?"

"Anything. I'm sick of just hearing moans and dirty noises from you." He crosses his arms and studies my face. I put my jacket down and sit on the corner of the bed. "Talk to me like a real person instead of some whore."

"Fine. What do you want to talk about?"

Matty breathes heavily and stands up with a groan. "Who's Brendon?"

"Complicated. Next question."

"Why are you so desperate for sex?"

"Ties in with the first answer. Next question." He walks over to the small kitchen and pours himself a cup of water.

"What's your favorite movie?" I chuckle and a grin creeps across his mouth. He sits down again and offers me a sip. I shake my head and actually think hard about his question.

"The Crow, probably. You?"

"I'm a fan of Weekend." Another laugh escapes from my lips and he gives me a playful shove. "Fuck off, I know it's gay."

"Hey, I wasn't judging."

He lays down and leans his head on a hand.

I look at the ground. "Brendon is an artist. We kind of had a thing for like ten minutes and then I freaked the fuck out and now everything's spiraling down and I can't do anything but sit and watch it crash and burn. I'm desperate for sex because he's clearly moved on to this other guy, much hotter than I am, and they're happy and I'm beating myself up everyday because to him I'm just the guy who can't handle a relationship. Or even a kiss, for that matter." Matty watches me and listens as a talk, he actually listens. And when I start to sob, he sits up and scoots over to me, wrapping his arms around me and just letting me cry into his chest. He smells like me. I want to throw up.

"Hey, it'll be okay," he says quietly, stroking my back lightly. 'Everything will fall into place eventually and it'll all make sense."

I sniffle and shrug out of his grip, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand.

"I know. I just feel like I've fucked up everything."

"In all honesty, you kind of did. But broken things can be fixed, you know?"

"Yeah, I do."

-

A few minutes later we're saying our goodbyes, agreeing to meet for coffee on Tuesday, just for a friendly conversation. He agrees to pay this time, since I only have a few bucks to spare for a snack on the way home. I check my phone. One missed call from Gee, a text from Pete and a call from Brendon. I stop walking as I see the call from Brendon. Someone bumps into me and flips me off as he walks away. But that doesn't matter. Why the fuck did Brendon call me last night? I skip right over his message and click on Ashley's contact. She doesn't pick up until after the fourth ring.

"What the fuck do you want?" she asks groggily. God, she's so hungover.

"I see someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed."