[completed] Dusty Rose (Matty Healy/George Daniel)

Four

George had left Matty to sort of potter around his flat while he cooked for them. It wasn't really a meal time, but Matty hadn't had lunch since it was such a short shift that he didn't need a break, and George was generally terrible at being an adult a lot of the time - too deep in his work to consider stopping to eat three meals a day. Two often seemed enough, even if his mates told him off for it - it wasn't like he was underweight or anything, so George didn't really see the issue.

There wasn't an awful lot of pottering for Matty to do if he was honest: George's flat was pretty tidy, and the fact it was open plan left little to explore. Even the bed - at least queen sized, Matty reckoned - was just tucked away in the corner, next to the sofas and telly. Not exactly a living room, but the equivalent, with a red, soft-looking plush rug between the large sofa and arm chair.

Even just that corner left Matty reeling in awe: the telly was massive, perhaps exceedingly so, and the sofas looked like they didn't come cheap, and the whole flat in general left Matty feeling a little overwhelmed and out of his depth; thrown in at the deep end so to speak.

It was nice, though. The tidiness left it all feeling very modern, very safe, Matty supposed, and perhaps that was what he needed. It was consuming, however, how expensive everything in the flat looked, from the telly to the oven to the fucking speaker system that ran around all the walls, one of those fancy things that normally goes through every room in the house so you can play music everywhere at once.

Matty couldn't really see the benefit to it in an open plan flat, except for the bathroom. Still, Matty couldn't help but feel a system which he assumed would cost a couple thousand quid was actually worth it when you could just carry your phone into the bathroom with you.

The bed, while it was sort of tucked away insofar as being in the corner of the room, was width ways against a large panel of glass, looking over the city. Not on the side of the tea shop - Matty was sure he would have noticed it if it had been - but Matty could imagine how stunning the view must be at night. The flat was higher up than he'd originally thought, not having realised quite how many stairs they'd climbed.

"Is it rented?"

Matty's words came out abruptly, tumbling from his mind before he could stop them.

"I mean - this must be a hell of a lot of money, I didn't mean to sound rude or anything. Just curious."

George turned his head away from the saucepan of pasta on the cooker, looking over his shoulder at the short man who seemed even smaller in a flat with such a high roof, especially since he was holding himself in such a self-depreciating way, his shoulders seeming to cave in him.

"Bought it after a year." He paused, frowning at the way Matty was bouncing back and forth slightly. "You alright, love?"

Matty smiled a little awkwardly, running a hand through his hair as he turned away to shuffle towards the window. He hummed non-commitantly, because really, he was fine, and there was no real reason he felt so out of place - although, perhaps there was cause for him to be nervous, apprehensive, even, of being in the flat of a man he'd never met before and realistically knew little-to-nothing about, except for the fact that he had a little too much money to spare, or so it seemed, and that he was more than willing to give it to Matty if he put on a bit of a show.

Alright, so maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"Pasta's alright, yeah? Think it's got egg in, you're not, like, vegan or anything, are you?"

Matty let out a soft chuckle through his nose, turning back to face George with a grin - a proper smile, this time. "Fuck off. Pasta's perfect, thanks."