That 000000 & ffffff || Matty Healy

Babe, You Look So Cool

/ / B A B E ,  Y O U  L O O K  S O  C O O L / /

When I wake up, I'm surprised to note that I'm at least an hour earlier than my alarm clock. I don't try to go back to sleep, I but I do lay in the familiar bed until I see the sunlight streams through Jamie's purple curtains. I hadn't felt up to walking all the way home last night, so I ended up heading to Jamie's, despite the fact that he's almost never really at his own home. He keeps an extra key hidden in the plant pot right outside his apartment door, and while I didn't think it was a good idea when he had put it there, it came in exceptionally great use last night.

I fell asleep refreshing twitter; Matty had stopped texting a short while after his cake text and I figured he had a busy schedule. My phone had probably slipped from my fingers when I had dozed, as it's faced down on my chest now, and when I pick it up, I find only one missed called from my Papa. I know I should probably call my parents, I think the last time I spoke to them was a week before, when they had left for their little trip. I make a mental note to call them later.

I turn my phone off and turn to my side; Jamie is actually home and in bed. I poke at his arm, continuously until he gets aggravated and yells at me, "What the fuck, Marcy, chill out."

"We have work," I whine out, cringing at how hoarse my voice sounds, Jamie turns to face me, exceptionally close to my face, peaking an eye open.

"Your breath smells like chocolate," his voice is accusing, "Where's your stash, you little shit?"

My eyes widen at his accusation, "Jamie, I don't have a stash...I had chocolate cake last night," I amend after thinking about it.

He glares at me, "And you didn't think to save me a slice, fatass?" He pokes at my side and I feel a tad insecure; I'm not fat...just pudgy. He rolls his eyes when he sees the face I'm pulling, "I'm sorry, you're not fat. How was the date yesterday, by the way?" I glance away, sighing before explaining all that happened last night.

He looks thoughtful before pulling me against his side. He's under the covers, I had fallen asleep above them, still clad in my clothes from yesterday. His arm wraps around my shoulder and the other strokes my hair back. It reminds me of just the other day when Matty had held me like this in Jamie's car. I frown at the thought. I was quickly becoming consumed with all thoughts of Matty, and it was not at all healthy.

"Wait," Jamie says, "Matty has your phone number?" I nod against his chest but he doesn't tell me to elaborate, in fact, he doesn't really get the chance to; my phone alarm goes off and Jamie groans, "Guess we have to go to work..." and it's not that we hate our job at the radio station, its more of the fact that we hate getting up so early.

I push off of him and stretch while he rolls out of bed and searches for a shirt. He tosses it to me, I give him a look because he thinks he's funny. He grins widely at me before rummaging through his closet. I head to the bathroom; Jamie's place is smaller than mine and Anna's, but that's merely because he's the only one living here. It's nice and rustic, and he's got spare tooth brushes and make up cleansers from when me or Anna happen to be about, but despite the little scatters of us around, it was all Jamie, simple and complex, spunky and serious - he's got a coffee maker in the kitchen, but a retro poster of a banana in the living room.

After brushing my teeth and showering quickly, scrubbing away any traces of last night, dried frosting and chocolate in my back molars, I wear the same jeans as yesterday, thankful there's a drawer in Jamie's bedroom filled with mine and Anna's underwear, and throw on the shirt Jamie had tossed at me. A plain white shirt, which he had cut off the sleeves, with the simple Times New Roman font of  "lol ur not matt healy" going across the chest.

I pull my hair in some sort of bun and retreat to the kitchen to make a cup of tea for me, and coffee for Jamie. He comes out of his room dressed oddly similar to me, except his shirt says 'harry styles' instead and it's really annoying how identical our outfits are. He smiles, pulling a beanie over his head and I open my mouth, ready to tell him off, but the doorbell cuts me off and we both end up frowning at each other.