//Daddy Issues// ×mrog×

c.1

Of course the night would end with a blast. Whether a blast of fun, or a blast of red and blue lights. In Matty's case, it was the later.
"Do you have any sharp or pokey objects that can cut and or injure me?" Officer Bennet, whom Matty had known for quite some time, asked.
"Well I have one, but don't all us guys?" He slurred, a cheeky grin spread across his face.
The officer turned him around, pressing him against the front of the police car as he began to search him. Once he was done, he cuffed his wrists together, escorting him to the back of the car. "Matty Healy, you are under arrest for public intoxication and disturbance of the peace. You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney, if you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you."
A low, angry groan escaped his lips as he ducked his head and pushed his body into the small space in the back. "This is such bullshit." His hands were pressed uncomfortably against his back, the cold metal of the cuffs digging into his skin.
"They're tight," he said as Officer Bennet began to drive.
"Damn it, Healy. You could have told me that before we began to drive. Suck it up."
He pressed his head against the cool leather seat, his eyes shutting. He could feel his head spinning from the level of intoxication. His eyes began to feel as if lead were pulling them down, and soon enough he was asleep. Though not for long.
Officer Bennet was shaking him back to consciousness what felt like seconds later, earning agitated groans from Matty.
"Up ya go, boy," Bennet said, pulling him out. He brought him through the front doors, and quickly led him to a holding cell. "Rest for the night. We'll see what your punishment will be tomorrow."
Matty crawled onto the hard, cold metal bench. He noticed another person in the cell, though already fast asleep on the opposite bench. He couldn't make out anything but the back of his head and his height; and he was one tall fucker. His eyes were closed seconds later, his consciousness slipping away.

He was awoken with a start, and a loud thud. He rubbed the back of his throbbing head, sitting up to realize he had fallen off the bench.
"Shit, sorry man. Didn't mean to wake you up."
Matty let out a small shriek, less manly then he had hoped, smacking his head against the edge of the metal board. "Fuck!"
The man really was a giant. His hair was a mess. The sides shaved, then an artificial mop of blond hair on top. His face was kind, his eyes soft. He didn't look as if he belonged.
"You okay?"
"Never better," Matty mumbled in response.
"What are you in for?"
Matty's eyes slanted at him. "What's it to you?"
"What'd you do? Kill a man?" He laughed cautiously at him.
"Do you really think I'd be in the amateur cell if I did?"
The stranger tilted his head in an agreement, resting his head against the filthy white bricks.
"What's your name?"
"Matty," he replied after a moments of hesitation.
Who was this guy? He was a little more on the talkative side, which was unusual for an inmate.
"I'm George."
Matty held back a snort, covering his mouth with his palm.
"What?"
"George is such a grandpa name."
"Do I look like a grandpa to you?"
Matty rose his eyes to meet the others, examining the friendly giant. He was rather attractive, and thinking of him as a grandpa made him slightly uncomfortable.
"Mm, no. You don't."
George grinned, showing off his teeth. If Matty weren't any good at concealing his emotions, he'd be swooning.
"So, Matty, what are you in for?" He asked for the second time, cocking an eyebrow.
He thought for a moment before giving in, telling him. "Public intoxication, breach of the peace. You?"
"Robbery."
Matty choked, coughs coming soon afterwards.
"What?"
"You do not come off as a thief."
"Gee.. Thanks."
"That came out wrong."
There was a silence following their conversation, and Matty knew that was the end. He laid back again, sighing as he looked up at the ceiling. It had to be around three in the morning, and he had about four more hours until he knew if he'd be released that day or not. He closed his eyes, deciding sleep would be good for the time being.
"I never wanted to be a thief."
Matty's eyes snapped open as he turned to face George. "I was a music prodigy. My mom said I had the world going for me. I had the most supportive parents you could think of. My best friend, Ross, and I would go bowling and then to a movie every Friday night. I had the ideal life."
Matty listened intently, not understanding where this was going. Was he trying to brag? Was he trying to rub it in his face that he had an appropriate relationship with his parents?
"But then..." He trailed off. "But then they started to fight. I was thirteen. I know divorce is extremely common, and lasting till I was thirteen was a miracle, but it really took a toll on me. My dad, he left. The last time I ever heard from him I was fourteen. I lost my interest in music, and by the time college came, I was average. I didn't get accepted. My mom lost her job, I failed my classes, and we had nothing."
George had no emotion on his face. He was like a blank piece of paper; an empty canvas. Matty slowly sat up, sliding onto the ground. He pulled his knees to his chest, waiting for him to go on.
"My mom became a whore. She kicked me out when I began to complain about the massive amount of men coming in and out of our home. I lived in a small trailer, with no income, no food, no job. I had no choice."
George slid onto the ground as well, looking the smaller male over. "First it was a small gas station. Then a 7/11. Then Joe's Market. I never robbed anything big; just places with enough for me to get by. I'm not...I'm not a bad guy."
George looked as if he were about to cry. Never being good at comforting people, he decided he'd do what's only fair. He spilled his guts, as well.
"My parents never meant to have me. I was a mistake; a one night stand baby. I never met my dad. In fact, I'm not sure my mom knows who he is." He paused, trying to collect himself. He made brief eye contact with George, whom was listening just as closely as he had.
"I grew up in a low income household. Clothes from the goodwill, food from the food bank. I didn't know anything different. I was comfortable. Then, I got in with a bad crowd. They liked to party. Drugs, alcohol, you name it, I did it. My mother became suffocatingly clingy. She wanted to control me. I didn't like that, and I ran away. The cops found me three months later, and I was put on probation. Been on it since, what with my arrest history. I live with my best mate, Adam. That's where I've been since eighteen. He's thrown many interventions for my alcoholism, though I guess I never listen close enough. I always choose to do the wrong thing. "
George stared at Matty, and Matty stared back at him. They didn't say anything; neither of them knew what to say. They just spilled their life stories to each other, complete strangers.
"Do you want to change?"
"Sometimes, I do. Do you want to change?"
"I've always wanted to change."