Eyes Bright, Uptight {EDITING}

// you're my consolation//

{Hey hey heyyyy!!!!! Hope you enjoy this chapter, more exciting things to come. Please play "The First Day of My Life" by Bright Eyes and  "So Good To Me" by your favorite band The 1975. xoxo, happy reading. New update in a couple days!}

{Also please enjoy this gif of Mohawk Matty bein' cute af}

{Side note: I am thinking of creating a cast for this story. Any ideas would be greatly welcome!}

Matty's POV.

I watched Claire in amusement as she encouraged Oliver to eat his peas, with only mild success. She was so patient with him, at first scooping two peas onto the spoon, then three, then four. She had lost the battle when she tried to put five though, and Oliver shook his head as she handed him the spoon.

"I wanna watch Thomas the Twain," Oliver pleaded.

Claire pushed Oliver's dark, curly hair back. "We will, Ollie. But first you need to finish your dinner."

Claire had slaved over an all-organic, gluten-free, dinner, as per Oliver's mothers' request as we watched him for the night. His parents were going to dinner and a movie, and Claire was eager to get her hands on the piano-playing cherub who looked so much like me.

I cupped Oliver's face in my hands, "Now if you never eat, you'll never grow."

The set of my girlfriend's pretty hazel eyes met me, and she smiled ear to ear.

Oliver groaned, but agreed to the treaty we had made. First peas, then a bath, then Thomas the Train. And then, hopefully, he would be sound asleep so I could have some much-needed sex with Claire.

Who the hell goes three days without sex? Claire and I had been so infatuated and in love that we fucked nearly every night for nearly seven weeks straight, with no interruption.

It had been two weeks since I'd seen George. Since he'd punched my face bloody. Since Claire called him and left him multiple, obscene voicemils. Since she had indeed, asked her friends to go home, cleaned the blood from my face, and I had made love to her so soft she couldn't stand it.

I had packed most of my belongings the next day when George was at work: my clothes, my instruments, sentimental things. The only things I truly needed were Claire and my guitar, anyways.

The band and I still had our gig at Geogre's parents' anniversary party this weekend, as well as a couple shows here and there throughout the week. We could play each of our songs like clockwork without rehearsing, but it was what kept us together. And it hadn't happened since the night George nearly dislocated my jaw.

Which is perhaps why I was nervous for tomorrow night. Ross and Adam had finally convinced George to have rehearsal, but it still made me uneasy. I still knew he was very hurt by all of the things I had done, the things that made me myself: the selfishness, the lust, the passion.

If only he could understand how unfathomably in love I was with her.

Claire clapped her hands together. "Good job, Oliver! All done!"

She wiped Oliver's face with a baby wipe and swept him up from the booster seat he was sitting in.

"Thomas time!" Oliver wailed.

"Almost. First, you'll need a bath," Claire said, pecking the tot on his chubby cheek.

As Claire held Oliver in her arms, I came up behind her and wrapped her in mine.

"Oliver, you've made a mess," Claire chuckled. "This kitchen is filthy!"

I nuzzled her neck and kissed her weak spot.