so because of the s*m situation ive changed some characters, el was lovely and helped me with that thank u el ( ImaginationRobber ), so baso this is what's changed

george, matty's flat mate → nick

s*m → george

alSO THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER LOL BYE

~

Nick doesn't like to go back on his word, and so, the next day, he found himself being driven to what he's assured is a fairly high-brow, almost exclusive club by John and Ross.

"Our mate owns it, so we get in fine. Normally just for, like, celebrities and that, but he gets security to let us in. Like A-listers." John grins as he speaks, looking back over his shoulder and between the seats at Nick, who's slumped in the middle of the back seat. "Cheer up, mate, not meant to be depressed about going to a club."

Nick chuckles, sitting up properly, half-tempted to even put the seatbelt on but drawing the line at shuffling over to a proper seat space. "Who's this mate of yours then? Who runs the club?"

"Guy called Jamie."

"Matty introduced us a few years ago, reckon Jamie was into him, to be honest. Kept trying to buy him jewellery and that, apparently." Ross supplied helpful information as always, and Nick couldn't even bring himself to be surprised, honestly.

The club looks just as fancy as Nick had expected it to when John had told him it was exclusive, with nice little booths that all had fairy lights, and a proper wooden bar. Ross lead them both over to a booth a fair way into the bar - John and Ross's usual spot, and slid all the way around the U-shaped seat, somewhat unnecessarily. John slipped in next to him, leaving Nick to take the spot opposite them, feeling a little alone compared to how on top of each other his mates were.

There was no more than thirty seconds of idle chit-chat before a sort of waiter approached them, dressed in perhaps tighter clothes than you'd expect in a restaurant, but not really revealing. He takes their order - Nick and Ross requested some fancy wine that John couldn't even spell the name of, John, a coke. He's a simple man with simple needs.

Nick didn't really find himself to be listening to Ross and John's conversation - something about dry cleaning suits, which wasn't at all what Nick expected to talk about in a club, but he supposed that really, it was Ross and John. Instead, Nick spent his time with his eyes darting between the men in the club, desperately unable to see anyone he found attractive in any way.

Though, if all he wanted was a blowjob in the club toilet, that's not all that important, is it? Nick reckons probably not, but he needs to at least be able to get it up for whatever twink eventually catches his eye, so they should probably at least have some nice hair.

Nick sat in the booth, tuning in and out of what the men opposite him were saying - they'd moved on to music, which was more Nick's game, but still not all that interesting considering they were talking about some weird kind of pirate metal - and pretty much asleep on his feet. Or his ass, but idioms are idioms and not real life.

He couldn't be sure how long it was before a tall boy with long, bouncy hair is sliding into the booth next to him, but he was on his third glass of wine by the time he did, and probably more grateful than he should've been for it since it meant he wouldn't have to actively get up and look for anyone.

"You're looking awfully lonely, honey. Third wheeling sucks, you know? How about letting me suck instead, hm?"

Nick was a little taken aback by the boy's straightforwardness and had to take a moment to look over him in the dim light. The fairy lights were twinkling resplendently in his pupils, his hair falling across his cheekbones a little, striking spidery shadows over his jaw. Honestly, there was no way Nick could describe him as anything but dazzling. He wasn't sure how he'd not spotted him in the club so far, but he couldn't have been more thankful that he'd spotted Nick.

He tore his gaze away to look over at Ross and John, who were watching with little smirks on their faces - John might even have been suppressing a giggle - which Nick took as a sign of their approval.

"You want a drink, love?"

The boy shook his head slowly. "After, though."

Nick tapped the side of the man's thigh with a smile. "Hop up then. What's your name?"

He began walking backwards slowly, holding eye contact with Nick as he slid up from the leather seat. "Harry."

As soon as his name had left his lips, he was slinking away through the crowd, leaving Nick to chase after him, a chuckle on his breath at the game that Harry had started. He assumed the boy was headed for the loos, and so that was where he headed, hoping to god that his guess was right, because he really needed this.

Just as Nick expected he found Harry outside the disabled toilet, leaning against the wall with one foot propped up flat against it next to his other knee. "Fancy seeing you here."

Nick raised an eyebrow, walking past him to push the door open. He grabbed his hand as he slipped inside, pulling a lightly giggling Harry in with him. The moment they were inside, however, the giggles stopped, Harry turning to lock the door immediately before Nick could push him up against it, dragging their lips together.

Harry couldn't help but admit that Nick was a fucking good kisser - it probably helped that Harry just really wanted to suck his dick, but still, Nick's lips felt fantastic against his own, and then against his jaw, neck, the skin of his chest that his half unbuttoned shirt left exposed.

It was all Harry could do to keep his hands to himself, the urge to thread his fingers through Nick's somewhat messy quiff almost getting the better of him, but he wasn't sure whether the older man wanted him to touch yet.

Everything became clear, though, when Nick stood up straight again from his position sucking a bruise under Harry's collarbone and wrapped his hands around Harry's waist to switch their positions so that he was against the door. Harry knew what he was doing now, sucking against Nick's neck as he reached down to fiddle with the buttons of Nick's jeans, popping them all undone before dropping into a sort of odd squat on the balls of his feet, ass nearly on the floor, to pull them down.

There was a lot of what was probably piss on the floor, and if not piss then beer, neither of which Harry really wanted to kneel in - these were his best jeans, after all - and so he stayed in his position as he tugged Nick's boxers down, pleased to find that he was already half hard.

He wrapped a deft hand around Nick's length, biting his lip gently in concentration as he watched his cock fill. Harry squeezed his own thighs together a little, allowing himself the friction as he took Nick into his mouth, slowly at first, working up a rhythm before speeding up. The faster he went, the closer Nick's hands got to his hair from his shoulders, and then the tighter they tangled in his hair, and as the clutch of his scalp grew, the more Harry's cock enjoyed the experience.

Harry began to rock his hips forward a little as he sucked Nick, his cheeks hollowing and lips pulled over his teeth, trying, without any real conscious intention, to get himself off at the same time. He became so focussed on this that when Nick came in his mouth, he almost choked for the first time in a year, and that combined with the ache of his scalp and the sounds coming from Nick's chest was what pushed him over the edge.

He continued sucking Nick until he was finished, and by the time he pulled off, Nick was almost wincing at the sensation.

Harry takes a moment to catch his breath a little, looking down at his shoes. Good job he didn't wear the nice suede ones, they would've been ruined by all the piss.

"Thank you." He was quiet with his words, but Nick heard, and reached a hand out to pull him up. Harry took it, surprised by the brief kiss Nick planted on his lips.

"No need. You, uh-" Nick almost snorted, but held back enough to keep it down to a chuckle. "You good, yeah?"

Harry closed his eyes with a grin. "Yeah." He looked back up at Nick, reaching past him to open the lock. "I'm good. Pants'll need a few washes, though."

"Teenagers." Nick rolled his eyes, leading the way out. "Still want that drink?"

~

Nick had texted John as they sat down at the bar, telling him that he and Ross could go if they wanted, that he could get home fine, and that he'd text in the morning, and since then, he and Harry had been chatting about menial things: what their jobs were - turns out Harry was a struggling model, whether they live with anyone, various favourite things - food, colour, drink.

It occurred to Nick after he bought Harry his second drink that he had no clue how old he was. He'd estimated at teenaged, and he'd not been corrected, but he was suddenly hit with the fear that he'd made a sixteen-year-old come in his pants.

"What, uh- what age are you, again?" Once the words were out, he realised that Harry lived alone, as he'd already said, so he can't have been that young. What sixteen-year-old can afford rent? Come to think of it, Nick wasn't even sure it's legal for anyone under eighteen to sign a rent contract, so Harry must be of age-

"Eighteen."

Nick wasn't sure whether to be relieved or just as stressed as before. He'd been hoping for nineteen, really, because he wasn't certain if twenty-five is generally regarded as too old to be sleeping with eighteen-year-olds. To deal with this slight inner conflict, Nick ordered himself another drink.

The third drink at the bar, after the wine in the booth, had Nick forgetting to care about Harry's age anymore, and after their fourth, he and Harry left the club and called a taxi, Nick letting Harry announce his address to the driver - including his flat number unnecessarily - and accepting that he was about to stay the night with a guy who could still be in sixth form.

Fuck.

They exchanged numbers on the ten-minute journey to Harry's flat, Nick utterly shocked by how quickly Harry could spout his number. It seemed that Harry took it upon himself to remember Nick's number immediately and kept saying it back to himself for several minutes and Nick watched with his mouth slightly open, unsure of how to respond.

"Where d'you live, then?" Harry questioned as they slipped out the taxi, Nick shoving a tenner through the window. "You know exactly where I live, and I think I should know where you do as, like, insurance that you're not going to stab me in my sleep."

Nick sniggered at the prospect of wanting to hurt Harry. "Why would I want to hurt the boy who gave such a lovely blowjob?" He paused for a moment as if Harry might have a witty response, but he wasn't sure that Harry was concentrating enough to reply. "Live twenty minutes that way," Nick supplied vaguely, waving his hand off to the left, which he thought was about accurate, but really he wasn't sure of anything right now.

"Cool." Harry spoke slowly, really extending the oo in an almost sing-song manner as he lead Nick up the stairs to his flat. "I'm only first floor. Like to take the stairs so I'm used to it if the lift breaks, which it hasn't yet, and I've been here nearly six months, so it's bound to break soon, you know?"

Six months. Alright, so Harry's been eighteen for at least six months, and it's, what? End of November? So he can't still be in sixth form. Nick knew now that he was safe.

"-quite small, I know, but it's cosy, you know? So, like, I think it's alright, really. And it's cheap, which is good because I don't think I could afford a rent any higher."

Nick jumped back into life a little when Harry stopped talking, starting to look around as he worked out how to reply without sounding rude. "It's lovely, babe. Promise. Mine's not that big either."

Harry snorted, wondering if Nick had been listening to him talk about his flat, or if he'd only heard about it being small and assumed he was talking penises. "Wouldn't say you're small."

"Fuck off." Nick waved a hand at Harry, taking the few steps needed to cross the living room and through into the pokey kitchen with barely enough room to make pancakes, Nick didn't reckon. He went about getting himself a glass of water, helping himself to a lovely red spotty mug off the drying rack since he didn't really want to look around for actual glasses.

"Make yourself at home, then." Harry rolled his eyes at Nick's comfortableness with just taking whatever he needed and then snorted. Nick could take anything he wanted from him, and Harry didn't think he'd mind at all.

Nick drank his water while staring into the sink, plopped the mug into the washing up bowl when he was done, and looked up to see Harry staring at him with a sweet little smile on his face.

"You sleeping over then?"

"Think I spent my last cash on that taxi, to be honest, and I'm not really up for walking through town at, what-" Nick looked around the kitchen, looking for the time and finding it on the microwave. "Half two? Yeah, I'll stay."

It was while Nick was trailing after Harry to get in bed that Nick realised he hadn't told Matty he wouldn't be home that night, but the second he felt Harry's arms wrap around his belly, he couldn't bring himself to care enough to text him.

He'd be fine with George, anyway.

~

When it had got to half eleven and Matty hadn't heard from Nick yet, he called George, who picked up his keys the second he saw the boy's name on his phone screen and headed out the door to walk to his car as he answered. He was at Matty and Nick's flat in ten minutes, and for the whole car journey back to George's flat, Matty had been rubbing his hand over George's upper thigh alarmingly high.

George hadn't been surprised when Matty had practically pounced on him the moment he'd locked the door behind them, pushing him into the door and kissing him. He had been a little surprised when Matty quickly pulled off, using his hand to flip his hair out of his face and racing over to his bag.

"I brought my laptop," Matty declared as he routed through his belongings. "Thought we could do a show since you love them so much?"

George smirked at him, walking over and smoothing a hand along Matty's back as he tugged the laptop out and set it up at the end of George's bed. George sat down at the pillow end, muttering his approval, and once the stream had started, Matty shuffled back into George's lap, resting against his chest.

Matty didn't say much to the camera - not as good quality as his usual external webcam, but it'd do, and no one seemed to be complaining, really - just said his hellos before George started kissing beneath his jaw. Matty couldn't remember if he'd introduced George when he was saying hello, but he assumed it didn't matter all that much.

He let George undo the buttons on his floral shirt, tugging the sides apart to expose Matty's skin, arched into the feeling of George's warm hands running over his flesh.

Matty came easy for George once his jeans were off and George's fingers were in his ass, twisted around so the camera could capture everything. George let Matty wank him off slowly from the side, and once he came, Matty smiled sleepily at the camera before quitting the stream.

He was half asleep as he pulled himself off George's knee to wander through to the shower, leaving the door closed but unlocked, phone left on top of the toilet as he showered, rubbing the come from his belly and thighs with a flannel. Matty could hear his phone going off as he showered, but he ignored it. Nick was with John and Ross, so he'd be fine, and if George needed him, he could just come in.

Once he stepped out of the shower and had a towel wrapped around his hips and another around his hair, he wiped his hands dry and picked the phone up, seeing that the person messaging had been Olly.

It was almost unexpected to Matty that Olly would be talking to him - he thought that doing a show with someone else would probably have made Olly leave him to it. He'd been messaging pretty much on the daily, and Matty'd been ignoring it if he was honest. He'd always been aware that he didn't trust Olly enough for it to be a good relationship, and actually, he was glad that they lived those four hours away, far enough that Olly didn't think going to meet him was worth it.

So he opened the messages to get rid of the notification number, dried his hair, and walked back out to the main area of the flat, seeing George smiling lazily at him from the bed.

"Let me take you out tomorrow."

Matty couldn't help but give in, nodding with sleepy eyes as he dropped the towels at the end of the bed, crawling back up George's long body and letting him tuck them both in, Matty draped all over him.

~

George had meant that he wanted to take Matty out somewhere fancy, but Matty had denied him that, saying that it would be too expensive for their first proper date, and so they'd ended up tucked away in the corner of the local Pizza Express. George had wanted to at least take him to a different town so it was a bit more special, but Matty was perfectly content with the five-minute drive.

He did, at least, let George buy them both a three-course meal after George had argued once more that "we can get a doggy bag and take it home if you don't finish, love."

And now, a small box of pasta left in the car because Matty wanted to save room for pudding, Matty was dragging George through Sainsbury's at three in the afternoon. Matty didn't normally shop without Nick, mainly because until they'd moved in together, Matty had no idea that there were more than two kinds of beans, and about seven kinds of flour for different occasions, but George cooked too, so he was sorted.

"Will he want pinto beans, d'you think?"

George glanced up from his tin of chickpeas to see Matty waving a can of pinto beans around, trying to get his attention.

"Yeah, just get two of everything."

Matty wasn't sure there was enough room in their cupboards for two of every kind of bean, but he didn't want to argue and went about throwing them all into the trolley, only for George to re-arrange and stack them.

"Your bags must be awful when you pack everything up if you just chuck everything in."

"There's a right way to pack food?" Matty wasn't sure whether to frown at how inept he clearly was about food shopping - he didn't have a clue that there was a wrong way to do it, honestly, he never went shopping with his mum as a teenager - or giggle at how strongly George felt about it.

"Course there is. Gotta keep cold stuff separate, frozen stuff separate, vegetable separate - makes it easier to unpack once you're home."

Matty nodded, almost in awe, before wandering over to the tinned vegetables. "Sweetcorn?"

"Yeah, but nothing else canned, love."

He rolled his eyes at George's conviction, but did as he was told for the rest of the trip around the supermarket.

Once they reached the checkout and everything was scanned, the total showing as nearly fifty quid on the little sign, Matty's eyes widened. He stepped cautiously towards the machine, not used to spending that much money on a shop - although, they did have literally nothing left in the flat, and they probably did need all of this.

He was stopped, though, by George, who got to the card machine first and was pushing his card in with Matty bumping into his side in an attempt not to let him.

"I can get it, George, honestly."

"Don't be silly, I've got you." Matty looked at his feet. He knew he could afford this, just this once, but he couldn't bring himself to feel bad about spending George's money when he knew George earned well over twice as much as he did.

Matty really wasn't sure what he'd done in his life to deserve George. He liked to think there was some sort of balance where good people were rewarded, and George was one fuck of a reward, but all he'd done with his life was practically run away for a year at seventeen and drop out of school. He didn't think any of that constituted being blessed with such a person as George, really, especially when George insisted on carrying the shopping up to his and Nick's flat, only letting Matty carry a light bag in one hand and his pasta in the other.

Once they'd dropped it all just inside the door, Matty calling a greeting to Nick so he knew he was home, George pulled Matty in to kiss him on the cheek.

"Thanks for coming out."

Matty frowned, his eyes darting around George's face as he spoke. "No need to thank me. Honestly, I should be thanking you - you didn't need to buy the shopping and that, but you did, and honestly I think you might be a real life angel."

"It's nothing." George leant in to kiss Matty chastely, just allowing their lips to brush together before he pulled him in for a proper hug, no space between them and Matty's face pushing into George's chest. "Have a good night." George mumbled as he pulled away, giving Matty a nod before walking away down the hall.

"Night, Georgie." Matty called after him, letting Nick pull him inside the flat.

"Heat's going to get out if you stand around with the door open, you lemon."

It was only when Matty and Nick were curled up together on the sofa with Netflix on in the background once more that, with Matty against his ribs and breath fluttering over his collarbone, Nick realised how childish he'd been to fuck off to the club just because Matty had a sort-of-boyfriend.

"Sorry, love. Shouldn't have disappeared on you like that."

Matty hummed against his skin non-committedly. "You're right."

"Sorry."

Matty left a beat, closed his eyes and let himself melt into Nick's side. "'s okay." Another beat. "John texted, told me you all went to that club."

"Still should've told you, though. Not good of me."

Matty seemed steadfast to ignore the prospect of Nick being a bad friend. "He told me all about that boy you went off with and all. Didn't know his name, though, you slag."

Nick snorted, almost offended that Matty would think he'd fuck around with someone with knowing his name, but he was well aware he'd done it in the past and Matty was pretty well justified.

"Harry. Lovely boy, really."

"John said he was young. Fit, though, he was pretty insistent."

"Yeah, he wasn't exactly a pensioner." Matty craned his neck to look up at Nick, eyebrow raised. "Eighteen." Nick breathed out, closing his eyes against Matty's drama queen gasp.

"You monster, Nick. Tell me everything."

A grin spread across Nick's face, a full-on beam even, as he recalled every little piece of information Harry had told him, Matty, for once, listening, giving him full attention.

~

George had to go into the office (or an office: in this instance, it was the office of a small music magazine that wanted him to do a few shoots) - for once - and so he'd woken up a disgruntled Matty up at half seven, who had proceeded to ignore him for the sake of a shower. George rolled his eyes and went about making breakfast - scrambled eggs and toast. He was just stirring the eggs around the pan when Matty's phone, left on the counter last night, began to buzz almost violently with about a million notifications.

George felt it would be irresponsible not to check that everything was okay considering the determination of whoever was trying to contact Matty. Could've been Nick, George reckoned, and he wasn't planning on replying or anything, so he decided - hoped - he was justified in sliding the phone across the counter.

The notifications were all from Skype, which George thought was a little odd - who uses Skype as their preferred method of communication? - from Olly. As George skimmed through the messages, he couldn't help but frown at the general theme of them. Olly didn't seem particularly happy with Matty, but he hadn't said why: just that he was angry, and he thought he'd meant more to Matty than that.

George stared at the lock screen on Matty's phone for a good few minutes as he stirred the eggs, trying to work out whether it was more ethical to own up about looking at his phone and confront him about Olly or to let Matty tell him in his own time. The decision, however, was made for him when Matty bumbled into the main area from the bathroom, tugging George's Champion jumper over his torso to find that it fell to his mid-thigh.

He sauntered over to the counter George had turned around to lean against as if he hadn't just flashed the younger man, going in for a full-body hug, his arms wrapped around George's waist and his legs slotted between George's slightly parted ones.

"Hey, love." George mumbled, resting his chin on Matty's head.

"Morning. Sorry," Matty pulled back. "I'll let you get the eggs off."

George dropped Matty's phone back onto the countertop quietly before Matty could notice: he'd ask about it once they were eating, and he didn't want to let the eggs burn.

"Ketchup?"

"Please." Matty went about routeing through the fridge for the ketchup while George spooned scrambled eggs onto their plates. "On or off? The toast."

"On. Where did you put the roll things?"

George had bought some fabric plate mats after Matty's aversion to making any sort of mark on his nice glass table. He only used them when Matty was there - which was the only time he ate at the table too, really. "Second drawer. You don't have to, though. I can do it."

"No, you cooked, I should lay the table."

George snorted. "It's scrambled eggs on toast, not fucking fine dining."

"Shut up." Matty giggled, rolling out the fabric onto their places before returning to the drawers for cutlery. "You got any orange juice?"

"Should do. Sit down, love, I'll get it out."

Matty grinned, biting his lip a little - still not used to being treated like this - and tucked himself under the table. "Thank you."

George set everything down on the table - including a glass of juice for Matty - and they were nearly done before he brought up the messages. He hadn't wanted to ruin the meal.

"Matty, I don't mean to like- intrude, or anything, but while you were in the shower you got a load of messages from this guy - Olly - and he didn't seem very happy? I didn't reply or anything, just the notifications popped up, and- I don't know, I was just a bit worried." George paused to see if Matty was about to answer before tacking an extra bit on the end. "Don't reckon you'd ignore a friend or anything, so like, there must be something else to it."

Matty finished his mouthful, and then another, before replying, not really wanting to do this, but knowing he had to get it over with at some point. It'd been nearly three months now, and really, he was starting sounding far more pretentious than he'd like with the amount of avoiding labels with George he's been doing.

"Don't be angry. I mean, you can be if you want, but be nice."

George nodded, reaching across to rub a thumb over Matty's wrist bone.

"Alright, don't get the wrong picture about this. Like, listen to the whole story before you, like, decide what you think. Please." Matty was staring down at George's hand over his, finding it impossible to snap his gaze back up to meet George's.

"Olly was- is, I guess- sort of like an online boyfriend. Like- listen, please- we never met, we never even exchanged numbers. I didn't want him having mine because I never really trusted him all that much, but he was a camboy too, so he didn't mind what I do, and I'd been struggling to find someone who didn't care that I fuck myself on camera, you know?

"And- I'm not sure, because I never talked to him about it, but I think he basically just wanted- not sex, but sex? You know? Like, whenever we called, he'd ask me to do something for him, and it just- I always felt so bad if I wasn't up for it. 'Specially if I'd done a show, because like, I'd done something for the rest of the world, so I should have for him too?

"But we never really spoke, even - not properly, not about stuff past sex and how our days were. That's one of the reasons I've not been replying. Just realised it wasn't worth it. Don't think I even know his embarrassing middle name."

"Mine's Bedford."

Matty snorted, finally looking up at George, unable to stop the grin spreading. "Bedford? I thought fucking Timothy was bad, but at least it's not a fucking town. Christ, your parents must have hated you."

They were both content to simply laugh at George's misfortunate name for a minute or so, bent on avoiding the more serious topic of Matty effectively cheating on his sort-of boyfriend with George.

"Really, though, Matty, it's okay. Promise. Honestly, I'm glad you're not talking to him anymore, he seems like a prick."

Matty swallowed his last mouthful before sliding out from the table, picking up both of their plates and his glass. "Still would be if you hadn't turned up, though, wouldn't I? Should be thanking you, really." He dropped the plates and glass into the washing up bowl, before sliding open his phone, tapping through to Skype.

"Want to do the honours?" Matty held out his phone to George, open on the screen to block Olly.

George pressed block, his heart practically swelling at Matty managing to move on, despite only having known about Olly for all of ten minutes.

"I've got to get off to work, love, but I'm so proud of you for sorting this out. Love you."

Matty beamed, tapping George on the bum playfully before wandering off to plonk down on the sofa. "Do your teeth."

~

When George got home two hours later, he barely got through the door and his jacket off before Matty pounced on him, mumbling something about wanting to "rub it in Olly's face, show off a bit". He had his external webcam ready this time, but by the time Matty was bouncing in George's lap, they'd both practically forgotten that they were streaming. It was when George was sucking a bruise into Matty's throat and Matty was desperately trying to vaguely look into the camera, put on a bit of a show, that he realised this wasn't what he wanted to do anymore.

He didn't want to make all this public, not what he did with George, at least, and so, once the stream was over, and they'd had their power nap, Matty told George he was going to close his camming account.

And, of course, that was exactly what he did - but only after he'd let George cook him dinner.

~

this has been quite the journey

i wont be replying to comments and that untilllll probably saturday because imhaving a social media break but i wanted to get this up

sorry about the confusing name changes but s*m's a snake and i wanted him out the story

uhhmmm right okay so thank u el for helping me with the changes ur wonderful thank u sm that wouldve taken so so so long bc i changed them so many times thnk u

thank u george for being the sun we need in this time of sam snakeage

thank u matty for not being a snake but still terrible in a good way

thank u jamie for having ur mobile number on ur email footer

thank u for reading this

love you

mikey xo