𝐍𝐎𝐍-𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒

Was it never enough that we should simply want to be together?

LONDON, UK
2 Weeks later, January
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I made my way to the front door of Matty's studio. I hesitated before knocking, reluctantly. There was a song playing behind the closed door, but the soft sound of an acoustic guitar was shortly followed by a sudden silence. I waited.

My legs were frozing. The cold of that day of January penetrated through my sheer stockings and soaked me to the bone.

The door finally opened. Matty and his thick, dark curls appeared. He was dressed in a black sweatshirt, the name of a band I didn't know printed on it in a bright apple green, and high waisted jeans. His permanent tired and sleepy expression quickly fell as he looked at me.

"You brought me flowers" he said as he clutched onto the door frame.

"It's just my way of reaffirming gender equality and bringing down patriarchy"

I handed him the little bouquet of red roses, nonchalantly. I had passed a florist on my way here and I thought of him. If boys can do it, why couldn't I?

He chuckled. "You brought me flowers" he repeated, taking the bouquet in his hands and smelling it.

"Will you let me in?" I said impatiently.

He glanced at me with that crooked smile of his. With his free hand he pulled me against him, closing the door behind me with his foot. He placed a soft kiss on my lips. "Thank you" he said. He kissed me again. "I missed you". He kissed me once more.

He set me free to rest the flowers on the table and soon came back to me to take off my jacket.

"You're so cold" he said holding me in his arms again.

"London is so cold" I complained, closing my eyes, my cold cheeks warmed by the heat of his body. He was taller than me, so I had to stretch myself to twist my arms around his neck. Matty's mouth travelled a short distance from my cheeks to my lips, kissing me softly.

Then I realised one thing: for my whole, wretched, life I've been romanticising things that are unfortunate, expecially unfortunate love stories. It was with some discomfort that I realised I was one of those annoying people who rejected and criticised peaceful relationships, just to go around and make a dull middle class philosophy out of it. But here I was, Matty was kissing me softly and I was smiling like an idiot. No drama. No harm. And it wasn't boring, it was perfect.

"What were you playing?" I asked in his shoulder.

"Stuff" he simply replied.

I held my head up to look at him. "Your new album isn't out yet and you're already writing a new one?"

"It's not an album. It's rather a side project with confused outlines. I'm writing it with no direction"

"What is it about?" I asked, curious.

His eyes wandered through the ceiling. "It's about not talking about what it is"

His vagueness intrigued me, but I noticed his reluctance, so I decided not to investigate more. I had another idea, instead.

"I heard the sound of an acoustic guitar..." I started.

"I told you I won't play it" he protested, in a cute way, brushing the hair away from my face.

I smirked at him. "Can I?"

"Did you learn how to play guitar?" he looked at me surprised.

I freed myself from his hug, stepping back. I looked around. It was the first time I was in his studio, but it was just like I imagined it: quite minimalistic, there was an open space with just a couch and a table, an abstract painting on one of the walls and instruments in every corner. I looked at the acoustic guitar leaning against the wall. Clumsily, I grabbed it, like someone who was unfamiliar to it. It was so big and heavy.