Please // Matty Healy

the twenty-first

A/N: Hey so this chapter is 1) in Matty's POV, 2) really short, 3) kind of experimental because the story is embedded within the lyrics of the song. Enjoy my artistic curiosity. 

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Matty's POV:

The song practically wrote itself. I wish it didn't. 

And be my mistake. Then turn out the lights.

I watched as Eve flicked the lights off, the room being lit only by the city lights of New York flooding through the window. We'd shot up like we normally do, and she asked to stay over like she normally does. I said no like I normally do, but this night I was hurting more than mosts. I had always dreamt of taking Jess to NYC. Her art internship ended a week ago. She was supposed to join us for the rest of the tour. She was supposed to be the one in this room. But she was gone. So when Eve begged like she normally did, I finally said yes. 

She bought me those jeans. The ones you like. 

"I like your pants baby," Eve cooed as she crawled towards me, her hands rubbing up my thighs, "so tight, so ripped, so you" she grinned. I loved them too. Jess had bought them in Paris before she flew out for my birthday. I never got to wear them for her, she left too soon. I never got to tell her how much I loved them. How often I wore them. "I think they'd look better on the floor," Eve smirked. 

I don't want to hug. I just want to sleep.

After we fucked, Eve couldn't stop smiling. She had one of those I knew this would happen eventually grins plastered across her face. I bet I could wipe that look right off if I had just told her I was thinking of Jess the entire time. But I had no willpower to argue tonight, nor did I have any desire to cuddle her. It was all too real. Too intimate. I remembered the way I would hold Jess as if she was the most delicate thing in the world when only minutes before I would have been making her scream. I couldn't seem to find it in me to give Eve that same connection. I had no love left to give. Not for her. "Please hold me, Matty," she begged. "Eve, please, I just want to sleep," I responded, willing her to get up and leave. I felt dirty having her around. 

The smell of your hair reminds me of her feet.

I remember the way I would cherish Jess. I would worship her body in kisses, starting from her forehead and making my way down. I loved every inch of her with every inch of myself. I couldn't help but chuckle when I remembered the way she hated how I played with her feet. She would kick and scream and laugh until it hurts.  I loved Jess's damn feet more than I could have ever loved Eve's "killer" hair. Fucking stupid hair. How could Jess ever have been jealous? How did I ever let her? If only she knew. 

So don't wait outside my hotel room. Just wait till I give you a sign. 

I hated the way she lingered. How she was always around. Ever since Jess left, it was as though Eve was trying to fill her space in my heart full time. But I had no heart to give to her, just sex and drugs, and I wish she didn't want more. I wished she wasn't nearby all the time. I wished she would only be around when I was in need of a dose or some form of distraction.

Cause I get lonesome sometimes 

All of the time.

Save all the jokes you're going to make while I see how much drink I can take. Then be my mistake. 

I hated how she talked about Jess as though she was nothing. I hated the way she talked about herself like I needed her. I hated how she acted as though she was the best thing that has ever happened to me. I hated how she said "I told you so" all of the time. But I didn't want to argue. I didn't have it in me. I just drank until I was drunk enough to forget it was Eve I was sleeping with. Eve wasn't a lover. She was a distraction. She was a mistake.

I shouldn't have called. Cause we shouldn't speak. 

I hated calling her. I always felt guilty. Deep, inevitable guilt. I only called for two reasons. Either I wanted drugs - the drugs that took Jess away from me, that took happiness away from me - or I wanted to fuck and stop my loneliness for just a moment. I knew every time I called her, I wished I was calling Jess. I knew I shouldn't speak to her. I knew that if, one day, I just stopped calling Eve, stopped bring her along, I might just have a shot at getting Jess back. But Eve was right, addiction isn't that simple. 

You do make me hard, but she makes me weak.

Eve was quite fit. A standard beauty. She could win over any guy with her hair and the way the innocence left her eyes when she looked at you. I could fuck her, but that was the extent.  I couldn't be real with her, all of my happiness was induced. I couldn't be vulnerable. I couldn't be open. I couldn't feel anything. I couldn't love her. The thought of Jess makes me weak, makes me happy, makes me hurt, makes me love, makes me feel something again.

The song practically wrote itself. I wish it didn't. 

I titled it "Be My Mistake" before dropping my pen and closing my notebook. Perhaps I'd put it on my third album. Then Eve would finally get what she wanted. She would finally get her own song. 

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A/N: Sorry it was short, but I promise I have a longer one coming out very soon! Thanks for all of the love and support, you beautiful people.