Haunt || Matty Healy

Fourteen.

        

Zack/Zane is sitting next to me, asking me questions about the worksheet that I barely pay attention to. He blinks patiently after every question he asks before nodding in acceptance, talking to himself, "Right, your right, it's obviously not true," and he writes the answer down on the sheet of paper.

I roll my eyes and fold my arms over my desk before resting my head against them. I sigh, turning my head to face him. I can't quite tell if he's looking down at me or the paper we're supposed to fill out as partners. It doesn't matter anyway, I suppose, since I'm not really looking at him either. Just staring at him.

Matty hasn't randomly shown up to class today, and Seven and Kelsey remember the concert, just not as I do. I'm unsurprised, yet again, my best friends have voided the segment of my near death from their minds, and truly, I can't really hold that against them. I wonder if they remember any bits and pieces, and if they do, do they think it's all a figment of their imagination? If I didn't know any better then I'd think the same as well.

I vaguely hear Sev humming a tune that sounds grotesquely familiar. I sigh and say, "Zane, do you ever feel –"

He snorts, cutting me off, "It's actually Zay, and do I ever feel like a plastic bag? Always."

"Shit," I mumble, "Sorry Zay."

He sighs, "You're lucky you're cute. And, like, legally blind."

"Don't speak too loud," I say dryly, "My boyfriend might kill you or something." My eyes widen when I realize what I've said. "I, uh... mean, figuratively. He's a little possessive." And maybe demonic.

He raises his eyebrows, "You have a boyfriend?"

"No?"

"You just said your boyfriend would kill me."

"I did?" I furrow my eyebrows trying to backtrack on my words. "I meant friend...boy.... friend that's a boy."

"Seven?"

"No – what – no, you don't know him, Zay."

He hums thoughtfully before saying, "Okay..." not particularly finite in his thoughts. "Anyway, what's up Nila? What's got you all bummed out?"

I sigh, "I feel like my life is... depleting. And to top it all off, the thing that's...disrupting me is something I don't want out of reach, does that make sense?" I'm going to die and Matty Healy is going to kill me.

He thinks about it for a minute, "Like drugs?"

I shrug, "I guess."

He shakes his head. "It's metaphorical. You're too straight edge, Nila." He smiles wryly. "Stay that way." I roll my eyes, but he continues, "I used to pop Vicodin like they were tic-tac's," he tells me quietly. I raise my eyebrows, unaware of this. "I used to steal them from my mother's purse," he admits. "I lived for that shit. I overdosed once and I swear I saw Death himself. I might have been dreaming but he definitely slapped me and said he wasn't really ready for me." He furrows his brows a little, "It also might have been some homoerotic dream about that bassist from that band – The 1975 – have you heard of them?"

"Yeah," I say grimly.

"Anyway," he shakes his head, clearing his thoughts, "The point is, I get it – wanting the thing that's killing you so badly." I nod at him but it isn't the same. I can't overdose on Matty Healy. "I guess it just takes a near death experience to put things into perspective." I snort because over the past few weeks, I've gone through multiple near death experiences, yet still, I'm lost on the focus.

"Sure," I mumble, lifting my head up and grabbing the paper from his side of the desk. I glance over the few answers he's filled in and quietly fix the ones he's got wrong.