opia; matty healy.

11%

Charlie and I exchange numbers and part ways after a few minutes. He texts me two minutes after I get through the front door asking if I made it home okay. I tell him yes, and we text for the rest of the night until I can no longer keep my eyes open. I don't consider myself someone who is taken aback by another person easily, which is why the long lost feeling surprises me the next morning.

I wake up, the first thought in my head is of Charlie, and I grab my phone instantly to check if he's messaged me. He has, a "good morning" with a couple of emoji's and an "x" on the end. I smile and lie back, remembering that for a brief moment I had almost escaped from my parents. Charlie seems like some sort of sign, as if I was never supposed to leave. But the thought of facing my parents every day still wears me out, knowing I have to live my days ignored by the two people who are supposed to care for me more than anyone else.

As much as I try to push the thought to the back of my head, it lingers. While I make breakfast, while I write my assignments, while I watch TV; all day, the thought is there, uninterrupted by the silence of my house. I think about going upstairs and screaming at my mum again, but come to the conclusion it would do us no good.

At four in the afternoon I check my messages to see there's been nothing from Charlie for a few hours. Only a text from Matty, and it's not that I'm disappointed as such, he's just not someone I wanted to talk to right now. Despite Matty's kindness, I can only see him ending up like all the other friends in my life.

Perhaps it's my negative self-talk, but I can't bring myself to reply to his message, ignoring it until the last possible moment. That moment occurs after a few hours when there's a knock on the door. I look through the peephole, seeing Matty standing there with his hands in his pockets, shielding himself from the cold and rain that I didn't realised had taken over the town.

"Matty?" I ask once the door is open completely.

He pushes past me, not bothering to speak until the door is shut.

"You didn't answer my text," he tells me as he stands in the small hallway.

"Sorry," I say, "I've been catching up on work."

He looks to the living room where the TV plays a movie, "With the telly on?"

I shrug, "I've been in a mood."

"Me too," He replies, "which is why I needed a friend."

I look at him quizzically, "Okay... well, you've got George, or Adam, or Chelsea-"

"But I wanted to talk to you."

And in that moment my phone buzzes with a call from the lounge room coffee table. I walk over and sit on the couch, half expecting Matty to follow me, but he doesn't. My phone tells me that Charlie is calling and I smile immediately, but frown when I realise I shouldn't pick it up in Matty's company.

I spin around after declining the call, "Are you gonna sit?"

"I'm soaked," He tells me, motioning to his clothes.

"I don't care."

Matty moves closer to the couch and takes a seat beside me. I shove my phone under a pillow, ignoring it and any texts.

"Why'd you want to talk to me?"

"I dunno," he says, which makes me laugh.

"Seriously? You can't come in here telling me you want to talk to me and you don't know why."

Matty says nothing while I wait for a response so I scoff and lean back, focusing on the TV. Our silence lingers in the air, he doesn't reply to my question and I don't question him any further. We sit and watch some crappy sitcom for half an hour before either of us say a word.