soft | murdock

12

"What would I do without you?" I ask Matt, sniffling slightly as he removes his arms from my body. 

"It's weird, I've known you for maybe a week and I've practically told you my entire life story."

"You're fine. I'm glad I could help," he replies as he gets up, and I wipe the last of my tears away. He causally walks to the bathroom to tidy himself up. I put our plates into the sink and prop open a window, breathing in the smell of wet pavement after a rainstorm. My eyes flicker down to the people walking on the streets, some of them in suits and blazers, looking very professional. Others were out with their significant others, cheerily telling each other jokes and giggling to each other. I stared at them as Matt walked back into the room.

How is it that the world has trained us to be fine with everything, when, in reality, nothing's fine at all?

Matt's hair is drier, but still spiky. He's shirtless again and I sigh to myself as I walk to my bedroom to get changed. Matt leans his arm against the back of a chair as I walk past him, looking intrigued. 

I close the bedroom door behind me, closing the curtains and throwing the doors to my wardrobe open. My clothes are sprawled out everywhere inside the cabinet, I clearly haven't put any time into organizing them lately. 

After a bit of rustling and digging around, I decide to wear a casual floral dress and pink Vans. I don't have any plans for today, I was thinking I'd just hang around at home but now I have to make sure Matt gets back to his apartment. 

I walk back into the kitchen and living room, and see Matt sitting at the dining table, his chin propped up on his palm. 

"Do you have any pants?" he asks me upon realizing my arrival into the room.

"That'll fit you? Probably not," I say, looking back out the window that I propped open earlier. 

"Why do you keep looking out the window?" he asks as I avert my gaze back to him. Why does he have to be so dang observant? It could be his blindness, but shouldn't he care and notice less because he's blind?

"I don't know," I say with complete honestly, walking to the kitchen and opening the fridge just so I'll have something to do. 

"Yes, you do."

I glared at him scrutinizingly. I despised how we had barely met, yet he could read me better than anyone else in my life, even Eddie. I despised how he could wrestle the darkest of secrets out of me, whether intentionally or not. I despised his kicked-puppy look where he'd stick out his bottom lip ever so slightly and look at me with that awkward, blind, thousand-yard stare. I despised his effortless tidiness, elegance, and immaculately trimmed beard. I despised him.

And yet I didn't.

Yet, I already saw him as one of the pillars to my life, after knowing him for a little over a week. I guess he makes me feel important. He notices those small tics that no one usually notices. 

I liked the way his arms flexed with the slightest movement, the way his hips swung when he walked around shirtless. I liked his deep voice, his thin cherry-red lips. I liked his gentle, calm ambience that soothed me and made it feel like nothing was at stake, that everything was fine. 

"Fine. Well maybe I just don't want to tell you," I snap, turning slightly hostile.

"Are you sure that's the case?" he says politely, hearing the sharp tone in my voice but obviously overlooking it.

"Yes, I'm fucking sure that's the case!" I nearly scream, my emotions getting the better of me, as usual.

I turn to look at him. He looks the same; he hasn't flinched and doesn't look in the least bit fazed. In fact, he was giving me that stupid kicked-puppy lip-jutting thing again. I rolled my eyes and mumbled something under my breath about getting him a pair of pants. 

My mood had shifted in a matter of seconds. I, myself, was surprised at how I'd snapped at Matt. I felt bad immediately after I did. Nevertheless, I walked to my bedroom and dug around my wardrobe for a few more minutes. 

At the bottom of a pile of clothes, I find a pair of extra-large grey sweatpants. How they got there, and why I have them, I have no idea. I compose myself as I walk back into the living room. 

Now Matt's on the couch, laying on his back with his eyes closed. He looks as peaceful and calm as ever. I toss the pants on his face and he grunts slightly as I lean against the back of the couch.

"I'm sorry," I say flatly, feeling mostly ashamed as he pries the pants off of his face. 

"How many times do I have to say that you're fine?" he says, his tone equally as flat. 

"You're stupid."

"Trust me, I know." 

And in that moment, I was sure. Sure of my undying affection towards him, sure of my inability to stay away from him for long periods of time. 

And it scared me.