don't fall in love with the moment...

the city

Don't call it a fight/ When you know it's a war/ With nothing but your T-shirt on/ Go sit on the bed because you know that you want to/ You got pretty eyes, but I know you're wrong/ Don't call it a spade/ If it isn't a spade/ Go lie on the floor if you want/ The best piece of advice that you gave me is/ "Our love is too strong"/ Too strong/ [If you wanna find love/ Then you know where the city is/ If you want to find love, then you know where the city is]/ Counting cards was the best job he ever had/ Cleaning up/ He got good at his 4's and his 2's/ Community service was the best job he ever had/ Cleaning up/ He got sick on the floor and his shoes/ Oh, and she said, "It's your birthday, are you feeling alright?"/ The next one's the MD/ You'll be feeling just fine/ Your brother is just sat there/ And you said that you felt snide/ You hope that, that boy will be alright/ [chorus]/ Oh, and she said, "It's your birthday, are you feeling alright?"/ The next one's the MD/ You'll be feeling just fine/ Your brother is just sat there/ And you said that you felt snide/ You hope that, that boy will be alright/ [chorus]

X

There was about ten minutes before the set, but Matty was standing at the back of the venue with a lit cigarette. He had sort of a pre-show ritual: cigarette, joint, and a bottle of wine onstage. He stared at the sunset sitting on the horizon. It was so beautiful. The end of his cigarette came closer to his lips as the time flew by.

Out the corner of his eye, he saw a person approaching, but he didn't dare look directly in their direction. As they got closer, he realized it was a not too shabby girl.

"Evening," he softly spoke.

"You looked lovely from afar, so I took the liberty of coming closer," the girl said with her thick American accent.

"And how do I look up close?" he inquired.

"Quite handsome, if I may so."

"Why thank you."

"No problem."

Matty wanted to compliment her, but he felt it as if it was too late and it would seem forced. He grinned proudly to himself as he took note of the black rectangle permanently on her wrist.

"You know, I have on too," he gestured toward her.

"Excuse me?"

"The rectangle tatt? I've got it only of late, so I can always remember our band," clarified.

"Your band inspires people in ways you don't know. You guys connect with your fans in unspoken multitudes. It's astounding, Matthew."

"I've been internally wondering if you were a fan or not, but deeming you know my name answers that."

Her crimson red lips, that were in a straight line, upturned to form a toothy smile. Numerous nervous chuckles fell out of her mouth.

"I feel as though I'd be damning myself if I backed up that statement. I wouldn't want to scare you away by feeding you thoughts of obsession on my part."

"You're one of the most pleasing fans I've met. I don't think the idea of you having a liking to my music will scare me away," this across-the-pond native was too adorable for words.

The two silenced, leaving Matty's words floating in the air.

"I think your concert started about 3 minutes ago," she gasped, looking at her watch.

"Let me disappear before George throws a fit. I hope I see you out there."

XI

"What happened?" George asked upon Matty's late arrival.

"I got caught up with a fan. Relax," Matty shrugged as he grabbed his guitar with 'What a Shame' written on it with Sharpie.

"Oh, here we go again: Matthew Healy bangs yet another loyal fan, turned brokenhearted groupie!" George teased.

"This one's different. I lie to you not,"

"Whatever you say, Matty."

XII

Matty rested his back against the cool metal exterior of the tour bus as their equipment was being packed in. The concert was electric. The City crowd gave off a lot of energy. But he must not have prayed enough because he didn't see his American girl.

"Do you always look so down after a performance?" the girl questioned as she walked toward him.

"You found me," he exhaled joyfully.

"You were worth finding,"

"Did you enjoy the show?"

"Of course! You always live up to the hype."

"I'm glad. Do you--" he was cut off by the ringing of her phone.

"It's my brother. I have to take this," she unwillingly answered her phone as Matty naturally and instinctively eavesdropped:

"Happy birthday! Are you feeling alright?... Well, your next birthday will be better, I'm sure... I have to go now... I love you, too... Bye."

"Is everything okay?" Matty asked.

"Um, yeah. That was my older brother and as you probably heard, today's his birthday."

"Are you two close?"

"As close as we can be,"

"What do you mean that?"

"I'm sure you don't want to be bothered with the tale of a stranger," she sighed.

"What's your name?"

"Lana,"

"There, you're no longer a stranger. Go ahead."

XIII

Matty listened intently as Lana told the story of her mentally retarded brother and how he was imprisoned unjustly. And afterwards, he walked her to her car, where he got her number and a quick kiss.

"Don't forget about me once you leave The City," she whispered with her lips nearly touching his.

"I couldn't if I tried, Lana."

//

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Ross mocked the authoritative father figure Matty seemed to lack.

He collapsed on the cot that acted as a bed. He just kept thinking of his life and wondered if this was the turning around point.

"Did you get her name, at least, before you took her idolization away?" Adam asked.

"I didn't fuck her!" Matty chirped in an irritated voice.

"Pardon? Can you repeat that for me once more? This spliff must be too intense because I swore I heard the Matty Healy didn't shag a girl at the first opportunity," George said in response.

"I guess Peony did do some good to the poor guy," Ross added.

"I've had a change of heart."

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