nothing is better than what we felt together at home ;; matty healy

I.

"Jesus Christ," Sam's voice could be heard from the living room, along with the slam of the door as he shut it and the jingle of his keys as he tossed them aside onto the counter, "For once, could you two have the human decency to clean up after yourselves?" he shouted.

With that queue, Matty and I jumped under the sheets of his bed, hoping to cover our decency as if Sam hadn't already (accidentally) seen it all before.

As Matty's bedroom door opened, Sam threw inside all the things we had left strung throughout the hallway: our shoes, Matty's trousers, my bra, among other things. "You fucking rabbits," he grumbled, and Matty and I just giggled. There was something exciting about pissing Sam off, even if it wasn't the most considerate thing for us to do. But it wasn't like we did it on purpose either, we just couldn't help it. Sex with Matty was always spontaneous, always something that we couldn't stop as soon as it started, so a night in with Matty watching TV turned into 'netflix and chill' as soon as his lips brushed my neck.

I was technically homeless now. I had been staying with Matty in London for so long I'd completely forgot about my place in New York City and one day, out of the blue, I got the call from my landlord saying I needed to move all my stuff out. He'd gotten an offer from someone else, and I wasn't famous enough to keep my place unless I wanted to start paying more. His new price was too steep for a glorified storage unit seeing as I hadn't been to NYC in months, and I had no reason to. I wasn't working, and Matty was here. Matty was in London. So I was in London.

So homeless and unemployed, like the main character of a romantic comedy, living with the frontman of an obnoxious pop band yet not really belonging there. All my stuff was in storage, except for the things I needed day-to-day, which were stored in a few dresser drawers Matty had cleared out for me. Sam hadn't minded when I first started crashing with them. The three of us got along so smoothly, and it felt like I'd always lived there. But I suppose, he didn't expect my presence to be permanent. I hadn't expected it to be either.

A year ago I had such a specific plan for my life that was nothing like how it had turned out now, but like many people in my community, all that had been completely rearranged by the recent election. Luckily, I wasn't someone that my government was now ostracizing, but instead, I was somewhat on the inside. In NYC I had been a model, and I loved the job. I loved the fashion and the makeup, I loved the attention and the parties and the fame. The only thing I didn't love was my boss.

I had been signed to Trump Model Management. My body, my image, my 'brand' as they had always called it, belonged to a man whose core beliefs contradicted my very existence. I'd only met the man himself a few times, and a few slimy handshakes and degrading comments made me one of the first people aware of his true character. By 2016, I knew that there was no way I could continue caring about the causes important to me if every day, I was a source of income for the one man I was fighting strongest against. So I quit. I quit, and I was free, but I was bored. There was a lot of backlash from my community, and no one wanted to sign me after I had made such a 'political statement'. I figured, if making political statements cost me my job, then making political statements would be my new job. So I worked on the Bernie campaign.

My twitter was often filled with notifications, comments of praise or damnation depending on which side of the political spectrum the sender was on. I didn't have an assistant or a publicist or anyone to sift through my DMs for me and determine which messages were real and which were sent by angry white men, so I had to do it myself. Ironically, that's how I met Matty, or rather, his friend George. Apparently, Matty had found my stunt quite intriguing, and his friends were tired of hearing him talk about it.

"Hi love, I'm George from The 1975. My mate's whipped for you. We'd love to have you out to a show." The DM read.

Of course I'd heard of the 1975, but I really hadn't listened to them much. They had just released a new album, which I had heard, and it was great, but I was no super fan so the fact that I had caught their attention surprised me.

"By your mate you mean..." was all I sent back.

If I'm completely honest with myself, I was secretly hoping it was Matty. I'd seen them on SNL and thought he was quite amusing and, yes, very attractive too. I would've been more embarrassed to admit it at the time, but now that I've been dating Matty for nearly a year, I can say with pride that yes, I do think my boyfriend is attractive.

"You don't know?" George replied almost immediately, so vague and extremely confusing that I almost gave up with the whole thing there, thinking that it might be a prank.

I was unsure of how to respond, but while I was thinking of what to send back, George sent me another message, this one a link to a tweet of Matty's. It was a picture of me in a shoot, lingerie-clad and laid out on a bed. He hadn't even captioned it, just the picture, standing alone. I'd never been embarrassed by my work before but right then, I felt my cheeks flush. Immediately, dirty thoughts flooded my brain. Had Matty gotten himself off to pictures of me before? Would I be upset if he had? I'd had men tell me to my face before what they'd done thinking of me, and I knew it was the price I paid for my job, but when I replaced those creeps from the past with Matty, I wasn't ashamed, in fact, I was a little turned on.

I didn't want a relationship; I was too busy and too concerned with my work. I didn't even want a quick fuck with the frontman, either, but it had been a long time since I'd done anything fun, and I realized that I deserved the small vacation.

"When's the next show. Save me a ticket. I'll be there."

"Matthew!" Sam's voice was angrier this time, and I could tell whatever he just discovered had pushed him to the edge, much further than scattered items of clothing did. "Would you mind coming out here so I could speak to you.. briefly."

Matty groaned, and I laughed. "Oh baby, looks like you're in trouble," I taunted, as he reached for the boxers on the floor, tugging them over hips. He rolled his eyes at me as he left the room. I stood up, pulling the white sheet from his bed and covering myself in it as I stood in the doorway, anxious to hear what Sam was going to say.

"Next time, would you mind cleaning your fucking come off the couch?"

I laughed silently, not wanting to draw attention to my eavesdropping, and instead covered my mouth. I knew we had forgotten something after round one, but we had started the next round practically before the first had even ended, so there was no time to stop in-between.

"I don't think I can do this anymore. Matty, this is fucking disgusting." Sam said, his voice calming down. "She's gotta go."

Those three words, and I wasn't laughing anymore. I felt really bad for what we'd been doing to Sam all this time. I didn't realize how much it'd really bothered him and I wanted to apologize, but it was too late now. He'd never forgive me. So now I was really homeless.