Cured [ManxMan]

Chapter Seven

I lay on my back, my head propped up on the arm of the couch I occupied. It was quiet, the only sounds the scratching of pencil on paper and the half-formed chords from the guitar in my hands. I moved my fingers, trying to find the right notes, before giving up and strumming listlessly and knowingly wrong.

There was a sigh from the floor next to me and the scribbling stopped. My head rolled to the side to see Mattie sprawled there, his back against the couch, a coffee table pulled up in front of him with books and papers scattered across the surface, a laptop propped precariously on top. He tapped his pencil against the pad of yellow, gridded paper he was bent over.

"Finished?" I asked, reaching out to ruffle his dark hair. He batted me away, rolling his head back to glare, but I caught his hand and held it in mine, grinning back at him. He couldn't hold the glare for long, the corners of his lips curling up into a teasing smile.

"Maybe I would be if I wasn't so distracted by your bad guitar playing."

I gasped, going to pull my hand away but now he held tight, his smile spreading and his amber eyes alight with mirth. "How dare you! That is so rude, Mattie. Admit it, it's relaxing."

"If you could actually play the guitar it would be."

We were both smiling, teasing. "And I would know how to play the guitar if you would teach me." I shot back.

He hesitated, his smile dimming. I sighed, releasing his hand. I knew what came next, what always came next. He would tell me next time, he had too much to do, homework to finish, exams to study for. I knew his classes were harder than mine, that he had to spend more time on his coursework than I did, but I missed him. As finals approached, he had less and less time for me. Sure, I was busy too, but I always made time for him.

I sat up and went to put the guitar down. It was late anyway, maybe it was time to go to bed. It would be cold and lonely without him, but it was a familiar feeling, and I couldn't be mad at him for focusing on his schoolwork sometimes.

Mattie's hand on my knee stopped me before I could stand to leave. He wasn't looking at me, his other hand flipping through a few of his papers, his eyes glancing over his phone and laptop. "Oh, what the hell, why not?" he said, pushing the table away so he could push himself up onto the couch next to me.

I watched him, my brow furrowed, until he turned me to the side so my back was to his chest. He scooted closer, until he was flush against me, until his chin rested on my shoulder and his arms could reach around me to reposition the guitar on my lap. My breath caught in my throat, my heart stuttering in my chest. How long had it been since he held me like this? Since I felt his body, warm against mine, and not when he crawled into bed hours after me and fell asleep against my side?

I couldn't focus on what he was doing, how he was positioning my fingers against the strings. When he strummed, the sound that came out was better than any I could have made on my own. Probably because every time he tried to teach me, I got so distracted.

I turned so I could see his face, his gentle smile. His gaze was down on the guitar, but he knew I was watching him, knew I wasn't paying attention. He turned so his face was pressed against my neck, his nose brushing my jaw. It was a familiar gesture, and it brought a smile to my face. I tilted my head to give him better access, and felt his lips curling against my skin.

"I've missed this," I said, settling back against him. Mattie's arms tightened around my midsection, the guitar laying abandoned across my knees.

"Don't leave, then." I could feel his lips moving against my skin, sending shivers through me. It took a few seconds for the words to register, but once they did, some of that content feeling bled away. What was this about?