HEDONISTIC

37. IM BACK: Matty is REALLY emo and Frankie doesn't know how to handle it

EDITED

From an early age Matty discovered that there is negative space in everything. Where there is a something, there is this black that surrounds it and molds it to create the shape that you are.

That's how his head worked.

Since Matty had conscience and the understatement of self there was nothing but negative spaces with fragments of words and sentences that sometimes he fused together to create his songs.

There had always being this darkness in his head that shaped the person that he was, which was not a bad thing, everyone has this darkness, for some it just takes more darkness to mold their shape.

For Matthew Healy it was  like his mind focused on the black instead of the light and it started to consume him after a while. His thoughts get jumbled up and he turned into this different person: A person who didn't have a reason to smile or joke or even wake up in the morning.

Matty didn't like him.

He would look into mirrors with bags under his eyes and then vomit into the toilet and then avoid the sun because the drinking was too much from the night before, that night before he ended up in Frankie's house.

He was Matty with too much negative space but too sober to feel.......depressed?

Who was he kidding? He was always depressed. He have always been too aware of the world while others so pleasantly ignored it and he never thought there would be another person in the whole world who would understood him completely.

George was his best friend but he didn't understand, never had, He didn't get the things that were going on in his head and what Matty always loved about him was that he never pretended to understand him.

He was sincere.

Ross never pretended to care. Matty didn't fucking blame him. He wouldn't care either and then there was Adam ... Fuck Adam was too busy up Carly's ass to even notice. It was not a bad thing. They were in love and stupid. At the end Matty came to the conclusion that "It's hard to see a lonely person when you're not the lonely one."

The truth however was that he wasn't lonely, not properly. He had people around him all the time and if he truly felt alone he could just go on a twitter rant and millions of naive teen girls would fall to his feet, that was how the whole social media thing worked for him: whether that was healthy or not was a different conversation.

Matty had Denise and Louis and George and Sam with his pots and Allen barking and Gabby and Frankie. Always Frankie.

Matty wasn't a very social person but he has always had friends around him eating his shit and more girlfriends than he could even recall but somehow he was always been lonely. Matthew Healy settled for partners that didn't connect with him on an intellectual level.

They weren't his equal.

They couldn't keep up with whatever the fuck was going on inside his mind, not even he could do that sometimes but somehow here he was sitting cross legged in his studio: His Fender guitar next to him almost as a reminder of what he had done.

He was bitting his nails feeling the harsh moon like bits inside his mouth, against his tongue. Why had he called Frankie? Why had he told her to come over? More importantly why did she accept after the shitshow that was yesterday?

"Matty, quit inner-monologuing about yourself, you twat," Frankie said entering the room almost scaring him to death with Allen by her side, the dog had taken quite liking of her and was wagging his tail up and down.

" you twat? How British of you, you're pruning" he pointed out, reminiscing of a conversation they had on the sofa a few days ago; it was quite impressing how everything had changed so quickly.

She looked beautiful, still in her school uniform. The plaided skirt almost like a constant wound reminding Matty of how wrong it was.

"Why- why did you asked me to come here?" She asked for a second looking around the studio with all of the weird equipment and expensive looking instruments. She had never really understood how music came to be.

"Remember how one day you asked me to write a song about you?" He said looking at the floor, he hadn't moved an inch since she arrived and now here they were.

Frankie was cold, shocked and standing there the only thing keeping her grounded was the constant feeling of Allen's tail against her calf. At first she didn't remember the conversation, then it all made sense:

"You should write a song about me"

Matty and Frankie were laying in the bed facing the ceiling, this one didn't have cracks like James' so it wasn't that interesting to look at but there was a window right in front of the bed were you could see the isolated street in the early hours of London morning.

"Oh" Was all that she was able to say, then everything happened quickly. Matty got up and pressed some buttons on the console she felt like she had just being revived.

It sounded like ocean waves flowing over a piano.

At first it was soft.... almost ethereal, it builded up with the gradual addition of sounds and instruments just like Frankie's feelings had gradually gotten worse and worse for the boy sitting with his legs crossed looking at the floor.

For a second the song abruptly stoped and all Frankie could do was grin at the fact that Matty made this for her, only her. The song finished with a single bar of a repeating piano riff, just like the repeating beat of her heart she felt it inside as every key was played.

They stayed like that for what felt hours, Frankie just trying to take everything in and Matty well being Matty and rolling up a joint. At the end she found her words to articulate: "Why?" Matty smiled.

"You always seem to ask that question" he pointed out lighting and inhaling before continuing, he still looked nervous.

"Yesterday you made it sound like I didn't care about you or about anyone for the matter, and I do. I really do care about you and I really didn't know how to explain myself, then I remembered what you said a while back and I just called George and told him I had a vision, I don't think he fell for it but he helped me."

"It doesn't have words, it's instrumental" She pointed out, they both smile remembering that conversation as they were tangled somehow together.

-
"Would you really want that" "Yeah, I'm a narcissist besides when this inevitably ends you would still have to sing a song that reminds you of me and I can just totally forget you" She said with a cheeky smile burring her face closer to his neck.
-

"You won't have to sing a song about me when this inevitably ends" she said. "You somehow bended the rule" "God you're impossible" He said finally moving from his current position.

"Frankie, I don't have to sing a song. I- I'm scared ok? Because you're right and this will inevitably end and I'm going to be fucked, you're probably going to be fucked too but every time I'll walking in the streets of London and hear the honk of a car I will remember you, only you, always you because at the center of everything there is always you."

-
"I really like the piano" She said after a while. "I want it to sound like you're just walking in the streets of London" She smiled looking at him. "I really like London and piano"

"Any more suggestions about a song that is never going to happen?" He teased.
-

They stood there for what felt like seconds just staring at each other, seen the truth, finally after a while Francis Howard concluded what she was so scared of saying and meaning since the beginning:

"I think I love you Matty, I think I really do".

Xxxx

HELLO IM BACK, IM A SENIOR LIFE IS CRAZY BUT ITS FINE I HOPE YOU REALLY LIKE THIS CHAPER IF YOU HAVE ANY SUGGESTION JUST SENT IT YOU GUYS KNOW IM ALWAYS HERE KIND OF. ALSO I HOPE YOU REALLY LIKE THIS CHAPTER BECAUSE I LOWKEY STAN