Matty found himself awake at half past five that morning: at first, pulled awake by the cold chill coming in through the window, and the way that George had stolen most of the blankets.

George. George, who lay asleep in the bed beside him - it was that which kept him awake - that which kept his mind fixated, and his heart thudding in his chest, quickly pulling the rest of his body and mind into gear, as he continued to lay there, no longer quite so cold, but frozen - unable to move, pinned down against the mattress, beside the uncontrollably shaking sensation in his legs.

He let out a gasp of breath: cold air cutting into his lungs like shards of ice, because as he lay there, to breathe, to live felt like to die. He needed to get up, he'd needed to remember how the fuck to move, to get out of there whilst he was still alive, and rejoin reality perhaps forty five minutes later with his head spinning against the hard tiled bathroom floor.

He didn't want to admit that it was George that held him there, still in bed, but there was no way around the fact that he was. He didn't want to admit that, he didn't want to let himself blame George for the way his own fucked up head worked, for the way he only ever could see the worst in things, and how, all of a sudden, the comfort he'd found in George and coming to terms with one another felt like fucking poison, because it was different this time around, this was his own room, this was his own space, for him to wake up early and destroy his whole world in his own company.

Because he wanted to leave, he wanted to lock himself away and break out in a fit of tears, but it was George's presence in the bed beside him that kept him there, almost tied down, trapped inside himself, but of course, that didn't put an end to the way he felt inside, and in fact, things only seemed to get worse as they lay hidden inside himself: growing too large for the parts of his head in which they were kept, and growing close to consuming his whole mind.

And there was a part of Matty that was very prepared to lie back and let that happen - let the whole world crash over him, let the darkest corners of his mind consume his own being, and resorted to sitting in corners of rooms for hours, and locking doors behind him even if there wasn't anyone on the other side. And he knew that was what he would have done just a week ago, and as he had done many times previously, as he'd spent the past four months in the same kind of state, subdued mostly, but always there, always ready to pull him down to the deepest, darkest corners of himself.

And if Matty was being honest with himself, the only thing that kept him from just letting those feelings drown out and destroy every hopeful part of himself, was George, beside him in bed, as in this case, he was the root of the problem, yet also part of the solution. Along with George himself, it was the promise he'd made and how hopeful they'd seemed last night as Matty laid every part of himself out before him, and pulled himself together to the extent where he found himself comfortable with the notion of going out and talking to people again, and maybe he had last night, but he found himself unable to keep that promise even through to the sunrise, and when morning really became morning.

That side of himself was okay - that was the Matty that had everything together, that had hours to think over the world, and think of the worst possible outcome and finally come to conclude that the choice he was making wasn't nearly as bad. That side of him was okay, but forced, not as it seemed, and that side of him was perhaps only available for a couple of hours a day.

It was the rest of Matty that wasn't - the side of Matty that found himself waking up in the early hours of the morning, suddenly unable to breathe, jumping to regret every decision he had ever made with a dozen invisible hands squeezing tight around his windpipe and a dozen more wrapped tightly around his legs, holding him down to the bed.

He needed to breathe.

That was the first thing he needed, and something he couldn't deny - he needed to breathe, but with the way he lay, it was almost as if he'd forgotten how, almost as if every part of his mind had faded away, and everything he'd ever known faded out into nothingness in comparison to the sheer scale and power held in the heavy thudding of his heart in his chest.

But he needed to breathe.

It was perhaps only reflex and natural instinct that brought his lungs back into action, and his body suddenly shaking all over, as he seemed to regain control of his legs, and pulled himself into a sitting position, with his legs pulled up against his chest.

He tried not to think about anything, which was of course impossible, but not to dwell on the way the whole room seemed to be crowding in on him, and the way every cell in his body seemed to be working against him, and how he felt as if he was drowning within the worst thoughts held in the deepest corners of his mind, and the way that he could feel George breathing just centimetres away from him seemed to cut right into his skin, because he just couldn't let him see him in such a state, because George had seen him through the world, but never anything as bad as this. It wasn't that Matty didn't trust George, because he did, he just didn't want him to know - he didn't want him to think it was this bad, that he was this bad. He didn't want George to have to deal with that, and he didn't want it drive George away again.

He managed to push everything away for just long enough to take three deep breaths, focusing only on the matter of breathing deeply and putting oxygen back into his body, and praying to God that'd make it better somehow, although it didn't at all, because the first thing Matty did by the time he could breathe was cry.

It was an ugly cry: coming out instantaneously in great shaky choked breaths, with tears streaming down his face and blurring his vision until the whole world around him seemed to fade out. There was, however, something he found in crying - it was something to do, something to focus in on, something else to consume his whole being, and let everything else fade out around him, as he mind reduced to solely the work taken in retaining a steady intake of breath through frantic sobs and the choking sensation at the back of his throat.

He found himself getting somewhat lost within it, and came to lose himself within the act of it all to the extent that he wasn't at all sure how long he'd been crying for, but it was suddenly difficult to bring him back to a moment when he wasn't, and there was a slight concern crossing his mind, worrying whether he'd ever be able to stop, but the thing was, he wasn't sure he wanted to, because if he did, if he opened his eyes, if he'd tried to breathe, he'd have to try to face the world, face George in the bed beside him, put himself back together and try to pretend, and he much prefered the dull ache in his chest and the way his whole body seemed to go numb.

"Matty?"

Before Matty could quite comprehend the sound of George's voice and just what that meant, and just what state he was in, and just what George could be thinking, George reached his arms around him and pulled him into his chest. Matty let him, largely on the grounds that he wasn't sure quite what else to do, and whether he was at all capable of anything in that moment.

He found himself continuing to cry, now just against George's chest, which Matty couldn't help but feel was uncomfortable for the both of them, yet he still couldn't bring himself to stop, and continued to do so for a good few minutes: the warmth of George's chest seemed to kickstart the part of his head that had forgotten he was alive, and suddenly time seemed to pass at a normal rate again, and the moment and what had led him there seemed to come back to him.

George remained silent, resorting to holding Matty so close to him that he felt like he might snap in his arms, but there was just this part of him that perhaps didn't seem to mind the idea of that at all. Matty came to wonder if George was waiting for him to say something, to explain himself, or to stop crying, or if George himself was simply unsure of what to do and what to say. Really, Matty couldn't blame him, because he didn't ask for this; he likely didn't even ask to wake up, and part of Matty wished George could have slept through this all, but the rest of him knew that he needed George to get him out of this state, because it became rather quickly apparent that he was the only one who ever could.

He didn't know how to feel about that, about that level of co-dependency, and the state he was dragging George down into, and whether George really wanted to or not, because Matty couldn't shake the feeling that George only wanted the good side of him - the Matty that promised to put his life back together again, and not the one that woke up early to single handedly tear it all apart once more.

Matty finally pulled his face away from George, rubbing his eyes with his hands, and trying just to look him in the eye, because as simple as it sounded, when it actually came down to it, it was nowhere near as simple. George had this heartbreaking kind of concerned look in his eyes, like the whole act of waking up to Matty crying had him hurting just as much as Matty was, and if Matty wanted to prevent anything it was ever hurting George, because there was no way around the fact that he just didn't deserve to deal with this, and Matty didn't want to him to ever feel as if he did.

"I'm sorry." Matty choked out, pulling his gaze away from George, and burying himself back against his chest, slotting his body between his legs, and closing his eyes, trying not to cry; he felt stupid, he felt pathetic, and he knew that George didn't want to have to deal with it.

"Why are you sorry?" George asked, his voice gentle and barely more than a whisper, as he leaned into Matty's touch, and pulled his arms around him. "It's not your fault. Nothing's your fault."

Matty shook his head, "don't be stupid, don't tell me shit that we know isn't true." He bit his lip and took another moment just to breathe. "I'm sorry - I woke you up."

"You should have woken me up." George's response was instant and almost agitated: his tone sharper than before, which had Matty slightly on edge. "I would never want to be sleeping when you're crying next to me. Fuck. I'm sorry that I didn't wake up sooner."

"Don't fucking apologise because I'm a fucking mess." Matty grew close to snapping at him but ended up laughing at himself instead, because he couldn't be angry at George - it was anything but his fault. "I just... I woke up, and I fucking... I don't know, I just couldn't breathe, and I felt like I couldn't move, and it makes me sound like a fucking dick, because I suddenly got so scared that you were next to me, because I couldn't be alone, and I needed to be alone, and then I wanted to get up but it was as if I really couldn't move, and I just... it was nothing really - I fucking freaked out over nothing."

"It's not your fault." George assured him: tone stern, as he curled his fingers around Matty's wrist. "Don't you dare ever think that it was your fault. Sometimes we overreact to things, come on, Matty-"

"It's not just sometimes, though." Matty let out a sigh, "this happens a lot. Like all the time, I end up like this, and I just can't deal with you seeing me like this, because it makes me feel worse, because it's fucking embarrassing that I can't cope with myself, you know? It is my fault."

"It's not." George promised, letting out a sigh, "how often does it happen? Come on, talk to me about it, please. I want to help, even if you don't think I can, I want to try."

"You can't." Matty shook his head, dismissing George's words almost instantaneously.

George sighed, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the top of Matty's head, causing him to jump slightly, turning up to face him with an inquiring look upon his face.

George only met him with a stern glance, and a promise: "I'm going to try."

-

Matty wasn't entirely sure why he had pretended. Pretended to be annoyed, that is - when George had insisted that he get out of bed and take a shower, when George had only been trying to help him, because Matty knew as much as George did, there were just some very simple things that he failed to do without being told to.

He guessed that he just didn't like that part of himself, and his dislike of it was held hand in hand with his dislike of other people acknowledging it, especially people like George, because people like George were the people that Matty was trying so desperately hard to win the affection of. Now, at least, in George's case, Matty had to remind himself that George had made a promise and they'd come to an agreement this time around, and that he shouldn't fear of waking up one day alone for him never to return. It was just that no matter how much he reminded himself of this, he could never shake the notion at the back of his mind that one day he'd ruin everything in the end.

The truth of it all, however, was the fact that Matty was grateful - grateful to have George, and grateful that George wanted to help him, that George thought and cared enough and knew him well enough to know exactly what kind of help he needed. Matty knew that he was in no position to push that away, especially not in the way he had.

George didn't seem too upset about it - it hadn't been too bad, but he'd been rude, he'd been snappy, and so very desperate to push George away and deny every unpleasant notion in regards to himself, even as he knew them more than anyone else, to be so very true.

The thing was that George knew him, and knew that he didn't mean it, knew that he was just scared of himself, hidden away, scared of emotion and other people, and uninclined to do much other than waste away the best part of a day in bed. And Matty could swear a thousand times that he hated how George seemed to always know what was going on his mind, but upon not one of those thousand occasions would Matty find that he'd ever really meant it.

It didn't matter for much - in the scheme of things, especially, but it made quite the point out of plaguing his head as he showered, and Matty reckoned that had to mean something.

He spent too long in the shower: too long thinking, too long wasting away on the back of his own thoughts, and too long letting himself, but it was just the way that you gradually became accustomed to the heat of the water against your skin, and lead you scared to face the cold air of the house without it, but of course, the air had never been cold in the first place - it was just perspective, just the water and getting used to the worst kind of things. He'd spent perhaps the last four months under the same kind of water, and was forever just so desperate to retreat back into the kind of situations that would never fear him well, because perhaps, in all honesty, Matty did never know what was best for him.

The act of just turning the water off seemed to command itself as something of importance, something to make him quiver, something to have him dancing around the possibility of it and the outcomes that would follow. Water, however, was just water, and Matty was just overthinking, again, lost up in his own head.

It took him to really accept that - accept that and reject it once more - before he did indeed turn the water off and allow himself to stand there in the bathroom: arms naturally curled up around himself as if to hide his own skin from his reflection in the mirror.

He began to shiver, legs buckling slightly as he pulled himself together and stepped across the bathroom floor, taking himself across to the mirror, and wiping the condensation off the glass with his one shaking, almost ghostly white hand. It was as the glass was wiped clean, he began to regret ever doing so, for he'd always known that he wasn't exactly in the best of states and that it definitely transferred to his face, but knowing something was something else to really seeing it.

It had been subconscious, but Matty had definitely gone out of his way to avoid mirrors and the matter of his own reflection for quite a while now, and he found himself just a little unsure what to do under the weight held by his own gaze. His reflection seemed to regard him with distaste, concern, an odd kind of disbelief as his own eyes raked over his cheeks, noting the way the colour had drained from them, as it had from all parts of his face.

He came to part his lips, which seemed almost unnaturally red in juxtaposition to the pale tones of his skin that seemed to dance rather dangerously around the notion of lifelessness, watching as a small cloud of his breath escaped and condensed upon the mirror before him. He held his mouth open for a while after that, as if on the verge of saying something to himself, to his reflection, to the Matty behind the mirror, who seemed very similar, but by no means the same.

It was only as Matty gave up and came to close his lips once more that he finally found the words skipping past his lips and out against the glass of the mirror. "I need to get better."

His tone was only just audible, not even required to be aloud, but there was just something else about speaking the words - something about uttering the words with conviction, making a promise to the cold, hopeless eyes that met him in the mirror: the eyes that seemed to argue and beg against the words that left his lips, but the eyes he vowed that would brighten within time, because it was only ever a matter of time until the sun slid out from behind the clouds again.

"I'm going to get better." It was this time that his reflection seemed to meet the words with recognition, as if they really did mean something, as this time around the conviction and promise behind the words was held not just on his tongue, but also within his heart. That was made clear in the gentle ascent of a smile to his lips, and the way the colour seemed to flood to his cheeks once more, and the cold air of the bathroom didn't seem so cold anymore.

-

George had began to prepare the two of them some form of breakfast the moment he'd heard the water being turned off. He found that he wasn't at all sure what Matty would ask to have, but he knew largely that he didn't exactly mind - it wasn't that he had no preference, or that he'd eat whatever regardless of dislike and opinion. It was just that, for Matty, in the act of George making breakfast for him, George would always be more important than the breakfast.

He ended up making them toast, because being wholly honest with himself, cooking was really not where George excelled, but he had to admit that he'd put his life into those slices of toast, well, as much life as you really could put into a few slices of toast, which wasn't a lot really, but it was all you could.

The minutes seemed to drag on in waiting for Matty, and George couldn't help but rub his eyes and yawn a little, because as reluctant as he was to ever blame him, there was no way around the fact that the only reason he was up and making breakfast was because Matty had been crying in the middle of the night. Of course, Matty mattered much more than a few extra hours of sleep, but he just couldn't help but think about how much he hated being tired at work, and that there really wasn't an opportunity to get anymore sleep in the next few hours until his shift started.

George came to debate lying and calling in sick, more for the sake of keeping Matty company than for the sake of his own well being, by the time Matty finally walked into the kitchen, wearing a grey jumper that was far too big for him, and one that George instantly recognised as his own.

"Hey," Matty gave a nod in George's direction, pulling a smile over his lips as he rolled up the sleeves of the jumper, well George's jumper, for the third time since he'd walked into the room. "You made breakfast." He noted, eyes fixated upon the table.

George grinned, letting out an odd half-hearted attempt at a laugh, before taking a seat at the table, and meeting Matty's eyes. "You stole my jumper."

Matty couldn't help but blush as he sat down opposite him, finding that he had to roll the sleeves up for the fourth time as he did so; George seemed to notice, letting out an amused snort in response. "I wouldn't say stole." Matty leaned back in his chair, watching as the sleeves slipped down again, reaching way past his hands, and choosing just to give up this time. "Borrow, I think is more accurate."

"Alright." George gave a nod, eyebrows raised as he watched Matty struggle with the sleeves once more. He found himself on the verge of saying something, something clever or something funny - anything like that, but resorted to eating his breakfast instead.

"Your sleeves are shit." Matty came to comment as he gave up again, leaning back, crossing his arms across his chest, and even going as far as to pout a little.

George raised his eyebrows, wondering if he should even bother with pretending to be offended. "Are they, now?" He let a grin fall over his lips as he took a sip of his drink. "Why did you decide to wear my clothes then?"

There was no avoiding the way that Matty's cheeks instantly turned quite the wonderful shade of vermillion red. He coughed a little, resting his arms onto the table, and half cupping, half hiding his face in his hands, began to splutter out an excuse, "couldn't find anything of mine."

George knew it was a lie. Matty knew it was a lie. And indeed, Matty's face made that just as obvious as George's did - complete with the perfect rendition of skepticism. "I don't mind." George's tone softened as his face fell into a smile, "honestly, it's kind of cute."

Matty was unable to avoid his blush once more, and spent a good thirty seconds with his head buried in his hands, before he came to utter any form of response. "It smells like you."

"Course it does." George's tone remained rather gentle, not in light of treading carefully around Matty, but in reflection of the way his heart seemed to cease beating around him, choosing instead to sprout wings and flutter about in his chest.

Matty smiled, "I like that," he admitted, smile becoming a grin, "I like you."

"I like you too." George assured him, because as much as he felt that it wasn't something he needed to confirm, he knew that Matty would feel better with that sort of reassurance.

"Even though I woke you up at five in the morning?" Matty raised his eyebrows, twirling a strand of hair around his index finger.

"Course." George's reply was instant. "That wasn't a bad thing, you know? I'm not upset about it, I'm only upset because I don't like seeing you hurt."

Matty nodded, pressing his teeth into his bottom lip as he thought back just around an hour or so ago, and struggled to imagine how to possibly explain it properly to George, because although George made no attempt to insist that Matty explained a single thing to him, Matty knew that it was something he should just do.

"Sometimes..." Matty began, sitting up again, pulling his arms in and his legs closer together. He paused for a moment, looking away from George and focusing his attention upon the mug of coffee George had made him, watching the way the steam floated away into the air: fading away almost instantly. "Sometimes it happens, like... the whole crying thing, because that wasn't just crying, really, I mean it was crying, but I don't know entirely what caused it, and honestly I'm never really sure, but it just happens. It's just... I get into a state, but it's like... sort of physical as well, I don't know if that's just me overreacting or something, but I end up not being able to breathe, and it's just overwhelming, like every part of me is destroyed suddenly, because there's just this overwhelming feeling of unease, that's not fear, really, it's just sort of... it's like suddenly my body's decided that breathing, that sitting there alive is this deadly unknown thing it has to fight off. Except it's not, because it's in my head, but... I can't stop it really. It just happens, and I mean, it ends after a while." Matty paused, not daring to meet George's gaze. "Everything ends after a while."

As Matty fell into silence: eyes distant and looking anywhere but at George across the table, George reached out and grasped Matty's wrist, pulling his arm away from where he'd curled it up before himself, and slotted his fingers between Matty's, and resting their hands across the table. He'd expected Matty to react in one way or another, but as seconds ticked by, Matty remained quiet, distant, but pliant: fingers moulding into George's touch without resistance.

George suspected that he was supposed to say something, or at least that Matty expected it of him, but in all truth, he wasn't sure quite what to say, because Matty had been right in the fact that George hadn't the slightest clue how to fix what what had broken up in his head, but George certainly knew how to comfort Matty, and the way his head worked - able to imagine every conclusion it might jump to, and able to pull him back out of that kind of mess.

In the end, George found himself reaching for Matty's other hand, and with both hands held across the table, Matty eventually shifted so his eyeline met George's. There was a dullness to Matty's eyes: the many shades of brown seemed to fizzle out into the same dull, grey tone, and he made it very clear with sealed lips that he was waiting on George to say something.

"I'm sorry." What was every thought that had raced through George's mind in the past two minutes had boiled down to. Matty looked up at him: eyebrows raised slightly, urging for there just to be something more to it. "You're not supposed to feel like that, you know." He added, unsure what it was that he was supposed to say, because there were a million things urging to slip between George's lips, but there was quite the difference between what he wanted to say and what he should.

"I know." Matty nodded, his gaze slipping down to the way that their hands were linked across the table. "I can't help it. Just how my brain works, isn't it?"

"It was never like that before, though." George added, treading so very carefully around the subject, because there was just no doubt in either of the two's minds that George had very little idea as to just what he was talking about. Yet, despite knowing that, it had been George that Matty had found himself admitting this to, and that meant one hell of a something.

"Never as bad." Matty corrected him, unable to ignore the way George's hands shook slightly against his in response. "It was manageable before. I mean... I was always kind of prone to thinking over things until it killed me, and letting myself get into states, but then it got worse, it just all stopped being manageable, I guess."

"It's my fault." George told him, biting at his lip, not even wanting to hear Matty insist that it wasn't, because this time there was no denying the fact that to a certain degree, it definitely was. "It was manageable because you had people there, because you had me there. You calmed down after I woke up earlier. You need people there, and then you were alone for so long."

Matty wanted to argue against him; the idea painted him in such a horrible light, because it wasn't like he was incapable of looking after himself, but then again, Matty couldn't ignore the fact, that whichever way he approached it, George just wasn't wrong. George was just George, and that meant more than Matty was sure how to express.

"Wake me up next time." George found himself willingly filling the silence this time around, squeezing at Matty's hands to get his attention. "Promise me, wake me up next time. When it happens again, come and find me, let me help you." George just found himself trying not to think about what Matty was supposed to do when George was at work.

Matty was hesitant at first, but eventually gave him a nod, and a quick, "I promise." He glanced up at George before pulling his hands away and taking a sip of his coffee.

"Would you kill me if I suggested that talking to Ross about it would be a bad idea?" George asked, finishing his own breakfast as Matty seemed intent upon hiding his face away behind his coffee mug forever.

Matty paused for a moment, placing his mug back down onto the table, before meeting George's eyes. "No."

George nodded, leaning forward slightly, and just looking at Matty for a moment or two: watching the way his hair fell into his eyes every so often, and the way he'd spilt coffee on the end of those ridiculously long sleeves of George's jumper (ridiculously long on Matty at least), and how George just couldn't get himself to mind at all.

"Would you listen to me if I asked you to talk to Ross about it?" He came to change his question eventually, seeming to catch Matty a little off guard in doing so.

Matty sat there and thought for a moment, because it was a very yes or no kind of question, and he found himself so very uncomfortable at the thought of confrontation, especially regarding Ross, because it was so much different when it came to talking George as opposed to anybody else. He just knew however that George had this time, not only his heart, but his head in the right place with his suggestion.

"Yeah." He eventually gave a nod. "Need to talk to him anyway, really." Matty began to twirl a strand of hair around his finger. "Properly, you know."

"Yeah..." George trailed off, biting his lip, "I've got to go to work today, and... I really, I don't know, don't be upset, I don't want to leave you alone-"

"So you want Ross to come babysit me?" Matty snorted, looking up at George in disbelief.

"Matty-" George let out a sigh, worried that Matty had taken it all in entirely the wrong way, and that this would lead to some sort of fight or something. "I, you know that's not what I-"

"It's fine." Matty assured him, letting out an awkward kind of laugh in response. "You're right, you know? I need someone, and I need to talk to him, I need to talk to people again, like fix things, properly."

"Then why did you give me that kind of look, like the one you have when you're offended and about to throw a fit over nothing?" George grinned across at him: expression somewhat challenging.

"I did not." Matty exclaimed, shaking his head. "I wasn't upset, come on, I didn't even do that face, I- you know what? This is bullying."

George fell into a fit of laughter, "is it now?"

"Yeah." Matty insisted, pulling on a pout as he got up from the table and made his way over to George. "It is." He insisted, leaning back against the table and looking down at George, who was still sat in his chair.

"You don't seem all that upset." George smirked, reaching for Matty's hand once more as he leaned back in his chair. "You're bad at pretending to be annoyed, you know? You just end up all pouty and adorable."

"Aren't I always?" Matty grinned, leaning down and pressing his lips against George's. The whole act was so very spur of the moment, but oddly subconscious on Matty's part - it just felt natural, more than anything else, and it didn't strike him that maybe just kissing George out of nowhere was something he should think about doing until he'd already pulled away.

It appeared that George was finding it impossible to stop himself from smiling, as his grin seemed almost glued to his lips, as he continued to stare up at Matty. "You know, I don't even care that it's barely just past seven in the morning if you promise to do that more often."

Matty giggled: a stupid fucking insanely feminine kind of giggle that had his cheeks burning up, and him moving away from George just to hide his face. "I'm just such an insanely attractive and talented kisser."

"Talented kisser." George snorted, regarding Matty with little more than disbelief as he cleared away the mess George had made whilst preparing breakfast. "Okay."

"You didn't say anything about insanely attractive." Matty turned back to face him, smirking and pouting slightly. "And I don't know why you're kissing me if I'm so terrible. I think you're lying."

"Shit." George shook his head, grinning, "you've found me out. What am I going to do now?"

"I don't know..." Matty rolled his eyes, "maybe help clean up the mess you made making breakfast, how about that, George?"

"Well, aren't you quite the housewife?" George scoffed, getting up from the table and bringing their empty plates over to the sink.

"You could actually wash them up instead of just putting them in the sink, you know?" Matty suggested, leaning over to watch George just place the cutlery in the sink. "Just a suggestion." He looked up at George with a smirk.

George rolled his eyes slightly, pulling Matty into his side with his arm. "I could." He gave a nod in agreement, "doesn't mean I'm going to, though."

"You shouldn't let the dishes pile up, George, I thought you'd know that." Matty shook his head in disbelief, tucking the stray strands of hair behind his shoulders, before turning the kitchen tap on and picking up the bottle of washing up liquid from the side and thrusting it into George's hands.

George snorted, taking the bottle rather unwillingly, before looking between the dishes and Matty. "I'll do it later, calm down."

"No." Matty insisted, shaking his head very firmly, which took George just a little by surprise, "how can I sort my life out in a dirty environment? You better do the washing up." George let out a groan, leaning reluctantly back into Matty. "Don't look at me like that, I've got to feed Allen, I have things to do. I have to text Ross, as well."

"At seven a.m.?" George snorted, knowing very well that wasn't an idea that Ross was going to particularly like.

"Look, he's going to have a heart attack at the fact that I'm initiating contact and conversation with him anyway, so it doesn't really matter if I put it off an hour or so, does it?" Matty rolled his eyes, reaching up into the cupboard to his right, and grabbing a washing up sponge, which he placed down in the sink before George.

"He's going to be really happy, you know?" George's tone grew quieter, staring down at the sponge as he spoke, "that you're trying again. Everyone will be. We've missed you, you know? I want things to be good again."

Matty stood there for a moment, smiling, "they will." He promised George, giving him a slight nudge as he did so, "anyway, you've got some dishes to wash, haven't you?"

"You're such a housewife." George shook his head in disbelief.

"I think you mean environment conscious, lovely, beautiful, clean, kind, pretty, amazing person." Matty corrected him, grabbing at George's arm and pulling him down slightly as he rose up onto his tip toes to kiss him on the cheek. "Don't you?"

George blushed, nodding, "yeah, something like that."

-

It was in the ten minutes that Matty sat alone in the living room, well not alone, he was with Allen, but it was the ten minutes that he spent without George, who'd made quite the point out of sticking to Matty's side following the events that had occurred earlier. It was in those ten minutes that Ross came to reply to the text Matty had sent him almost two hours ago now.

It caught Matty by surprise, as he'd been quite content in sitting on the sofa with Allen curled up in his lap and the TV on low in the background, and as of course, as George had warned him, Ross wouldn't take this without much of a reaction, and it certainly wasn't one response that Matty received, but sixteen in the space of little more than a minute.

He sat there for a moment, just letting his phone vibrate into the palm of his hand as Ross asked seemingly every question that could possibly relate to the one message that Matty had sent him. Eventually, Ross just called him, and Matty agreed that was probably for the best, despite how little he liked talking on the phone.

"Hey," Matty began, running one hand over Allen's fur as he spoke.

"Matty!" Ross seemed to scream at him down the phoneline, and Matty couldn't help but laugh a little in response.

"Yeah?" He raised his eyebrows a little, "it's me - I mean, who else do you think would be texting you from my phone?"

Ross paused for a moment before he gave his response: pondering over the situation at hand, and how the world had come to present itself to him in the way that he had least expected. "I did wonder if it was George, if something had happened to you and that's why he wanted me to come over."

"George has his own phone." Matty told him rather bluntly, trying not to think about what that 'something' that Ross had thought of might have been, because as much as he wanted to know exactly how everyone thought of him, he'd give anything to stay oblivious to the way he was perceived.

"Yeah," Ross trailed off for a moment, "could have run out of battery or something." He paused once more, but it was a silence that Matty found very little comfort in, and in reflection of that, the movement of his fingers against Allen's fur grew suddenly faster. "So you want me to come over?"

"Yeah." Matty assured him, "and although it was George's idea, it's me that wants it, not just him. George isn't even here forcing me to call you. Not that he'd force me to do something if I didn't want to, but... you know."

Ross didn't reply for a good twenty seconds, which did wonders for Matty's tendency to jump to illogical conclusions, but when he did, it was quite the emotive response. "You're listening to George now? Like you're talking? You're happy about the fact that he exists and lives with you, or even just content, because I thought I was confused before, and now I'm just more confused. Matty, you haven't been anything but reluctant to talk to me for four months and now you're- it's a good thing, I promise you that, but I'm shocked and confused, and grateful, and-"

"That's why I want you to come over, I need to tell you about everything." Matty bit his lip, trying not to think about just how Ross could possibly react. "I want to sort myself out. Have a life again, you know? I don't miss how things used to be, but I miss the way I used to feel and the things I used to do."

"Did you and George talk about things?" Ross asked, unable to stop himself from smiling, because it had almost gotten to the point where he'd contemplated accepting defeat in regards to getting Matty to open up to people again, for once, he found himself very happy to be mistaken.

"Yeah." Matty couldn't help but blush, and then at the notion of Ross finding out exactly what they had spoken about only made him blush further. "I'm alright now, I think."

"So I was right that George living with you again would be good for you, wasn't I?"

Matty rolled his eyes, but accepted that he just had to give Ross that one. "Yeah, fine, whatever, you were."

-

Matty found himself alone in the house for little more than fifteen minutes. He'd spent the fifteen minutes, between George kissing him before he'd left for work and Ross finally arriving and letting himself in with the key that Matty sincerely regretted giving him, sending George at least a hundred pictures of Allen on Snapchat, despite how little time it had been since they'd both spoken and seen Allen.

Matty was coming to wonder if he was just a bit of a hopeless romantic. Or just needy. Or just pathetic. Or co-dependent. Or in love with George. Or something like that. Or perhaps he was all of those things, and perhaps there was just nothing inherently bad about that, as everything was just based on perspective and situation, after all.

Matty found himself in the middle of sending George a picture of Allen with the dog filter, (because that was necessary, of course) when Ross let himself in and made his way down the hallway and into the living room. Matty finished sending the picture before he made any attempt to acknowledge Ross' existence, which was probably a little rude, but he did have priorities, you know.

"Hey," Matty hit him with a grin: overgrown and ridiculous, and doing quite the job of contrasting the Matty which Ross had found himself so familiar with over the past few months. "Sorry I was sending George a picture of Allen." He held up his phone briefly, before sliding it across the coffee table.

As Matty looked back up to face Ross, he found that his face was quite the poster for disbelief itself: all raised eyebrows and mouth hanging slightly open. "It's fine." Ross assured him, standing still for a moment as he found himself stumped as to what could have possibly seemingly entirely transformed Matty in the space of little more than a week or so.

"Oh, uh..." Matty gestured with his hands, clicking his fingers frantically as he struggled to recall just what had slipped his mind. "Do you want a drink?" He nodded at Ross, having remembered just what he was supposed to ask people when they came over. "Like a coffee or something?"

"Yeah." Ross nodded, a little taken aback by the fact that Matty had offered him, "yeah, coffee is good."

Matty shot him a grin, and got up from the sofa, leading Ross into the kitchen and busying himself with selecting two mugs from the cupboard as Ross trailed into the kitchen behind him, taking his time with inspecting the place and how it was just all so much cleaner and everything was so much better put together since he'd last seen the place.

As Matty put the kettle on, Ross leaned back against the countertop and resorted to just watching him for a moment or so. It wasn't long before Matty felt his eyes on his back, and turned around to face him: hitting him with a bold, kind of questioning look, but unable to hide the way his fingers tapped frantically against the countertop as the possible outcomes of the imminent conversation loomed over his head.

"The kitchen's a whole lot cleaner than it was before." Ross couldn't help but announce what was clearly the most important thing on his mind.

Matty grinned, "I got George to do the washing up." He turned around as the kettle finished boiling and poured the hot water into the two mugs. "He didn't particularly want to, but I'm very persuasive." Matty assured him with a grin, which left Ross perhaps even more confused in regards to the whole ordeal than he had been before.

"Persuasive?" Ross questioned, watching as Matty took their two mugs over to the table and sat down in front of his.

"Persuasive." Matty gave him a nod, and gestured for him to take the seat beside him. "Yeah."

"So are you going to explain something now?" Ross asked, leaning back in the chair, watching as Matty seemed to bury his face behind his mug in response, and in return, took a moment to appreciate that Matty was definitely nervous in all of this and that he shouldn't rush him.

"Yeah." Matty placed his mug back down upon the table and stared into it for a moment, unsure how best to approach the topic of well, the unexpected homosexuality that had occurred between them. "It's kind of hard to talk about." Matty admitted, blushing a little, "like, sometimes there are things that you just can't say and..." Matty bit his lip, "this is like that."

"Matty, I'm not going to be upset, come on, I'm just honestly I'm so happy that you're talking to me about things, and I really appreciate that, because I just want to help you." Ross assured him, taking a sip of his coffee as Matty seemed to lose himself in the matter of tapping his fingernails against the tabletop for a good minute or so.

"Something happened in December first. Something with me and George that only we knew about, and then what happened at New Year was related to that, which is, I guess why you don't get it." Matty began, tracing patterns into the table with his index finger. "And I know you're not going to be upset or anything, because you're not a dickhead, but it's just weird. It's like one of those things, that you just can't say."

"What?" Ross let out a laugh. "I'm your dad and you're telling me you're pregnant or something?" Ross, of course, had the peace of mind in the fact that it was biologically impossible for Matty to be pregnant.

"Not pregnant." Matty fell into a smile, twirling a strand of hair around his finger. "Pretty sure of that."

"Are you going to make me guess?" Ross stretched his arms out across the table, stumped as to quite what it could be. "Because that's what I've spent four months doing, you know? And I've not really gotten anywhere."

"It's kind of a... it's kind of like... I don't think it's something you'd expect, and I'm kind of scared, I mean, you're not going to react badly, you're just going to react and I feel awkward about that." Matty rushed the words very quickly from his lips and then proceeded to hide his face in his coffee mug for a good thirty seconds.

"Do you want me to promise not to say a single thing?" Ross leaned back, not entirely sure what to make of the situation at all, as he had expected that he might be able to read a little bit of the truth off Matty's face as they spoke, but the reality was quite different.

"No, fuck, I want you to. You're going to say something, because honestly I mean, I didn't see it coming at first, it surprised me, so it's going to surprise you, and then it's something you have to accept and deal with, and well not deal with, but I don't think it's going away." Matty paused for a moment. "It's not a bad thing. At first I thought it was, but it's not. Not at all."

"Are you sure you're not pregnant?" Ross gave a laugh, and Matty simply resorted to rolling his eyes.

Matty sat there for a moment: picking up his mug and putting it down again, sliding it around the table, and flicking at the handle with his nails. His fidgeting was close to driving Ross mad, but with the situation at hand, he did little more than sit there and wait: patient and hopeful.

A good four minutes had passed before Matty came to accept that there was no way around the fact that he just had to say it, and that really all the fear around it was something he'd constructed for himself, and definitely held no weight out in the real world.

He took a breath, focusing his gaze upon his fingernails, now tapping against the tabletop, and just said it. Because the act of saying it was just so simple in contrast, and he found himself realising that just moments before the words slipped his lips, bringing about a certain nonchalance in his tone, which really didn't fit with the content of his words, and maybe he might have found that amusing if he wasn't practically shitting himself over saying it.

"I'm kind of in love with George."

Matty let the silence follow: seizing its icy grip over the two of them for barely even ten seconds, before he found himself obligated to speak again - to part the silence, to delay Ross' response.

"Not kind of." He corrected himself, bringing his hand up to hide his face, then to bite at his fingernails. "I am."

Ross found that he'd likely accounted for everything but that, and in turn, he found that he hadn't the slightest idea of what to say in response, because for one, it still hadn't fully sunken in, and really, he'd been expecting anything but that. However, as he sat in silence: eyes blown wide open, and head resting on his hands, it quickly became clear how this brought sense to everything else, and with it, how everything seemed to tie itself back together.

"I..." Matty found himself decaying amidst the silence, the self-destructive voice at the back of his mind yelling at him to destroy himself rather than face Ross' reaction. It was killing him - the silence, the wait, and it came to the point where his whole body trembled slightly and the only remedy he could bring to mind was breaking the silence himself. The issue, however, was the fact that he had very little idea of what to say, because this just wasn't the kind of thing you could follow up with talking about your morning, or something you'd read last night. "Since December, maybe November even, but I didn't really know it in November, I don't think."

Ross stretched his arms out across the table, exhaling loudly, before turning to Matty and looking him in the eye. "You're... like properly in love, like... seriously in love like... it means everything?" His tone wasn't disbelieving or at all condescending, as Matty had expected that it might be, but instead gentle, soft; he spoke as if he was personally ensuring that each word didn't hit Matty wrong as it slipped through his lips. "Like it's... like you're..."

"I'm in love with him." Matty found that it was much easier to say it after the first time; suddenly it felt like a given, like of course he was in love with George - what else could it be? He just hoped that Ross would come to think the same way. "Properly." He assured him, leaning back in his chair and allowing himself to relax as much as the situation allowed.

"So it's like... like you're..." Ross tried again, gesturing awkwardly with his hands as he spoke, and it was obvious to the both of them that the word he wanted to use was 'gay', but Ross was very well aware of the girls Matty had dated and fucked, sometimes even both, in the past, and he was just struggling to voice that without upsetting him.

"I'm pansexual." Matty found himself biting at his lip once more, and he wondered if perhaps maybe he should have cared slightly about how it might end up bruising in all of this, but the fact of the matter was that he just didn't. "Attracted to all genders." He offered in explanation. "So I still wanna fuck girls, just not really right now, because I just want to..." Matty trailed off, coming to the sudden realisation that telling Ross that he wanted to fuck their mutual best friend of ten years was perhaps sort of overly blunt, and well, awkward.

Much to Matty's surprise, however, Ross finished Matty's sentence for him, "you want to fuck George." Ross exhaled, just thinking for a moment about how this all changed everything. "It's all fine, by the way. I still care about you - nothing's changed."

"I know." Matty nodded, pulling his knee up to his chest. "You're not a dickhead." He paused for a moment, holding Ross' gaze, and trying his best to avoid paying too much attention to the way he regarded him just so slightly differently. "Things have changed, though, course they have. I mean me and George are gay together, of course that's going to change things, but not all change is bad."

"Wait," Ross' eyes widened, his jaw dropping a little, "you're... you're gay together- you... I thought you just... I didn't think you'd told him?" Ross' lips curled up into a smile, suddenly very proud of Matty, "fuck, I thought I was going to have to spend weeks trying to find you the confidence to admit it to him. You're not really one for talking about your problems, are you, I mean..." Ross trailed off, shaking his head, "you talked last night, fuck, I forgot. So wait, what did he say? What happened?"

Matty blushed a little, "you know, we were gay together in December as well, it's not news to him?" He shook his head as he let out a sigh, "gay together sounds kind of ridiculous, doesn't it? But we're not like... dating, or anything, I mean, not yet, because I'm not at all opposed to the idea of being his boyfriend, I just... we're taking things slowly this time because things really did not work out last time."

"Wait... fuck..." Ross began to piece things together in his mind, "so I assumed you were upset at New Year because you were jealous that he kissed Saffy, and not because he'd cheated on you or something, because I swear to fucking God, I don't care that he's George, I'm going to kill him for that-" Ross stood up, looking ready to hunt George down at that very moment and shove and knife through his throat.

"Don't." Matty shook his head, curling his fingers around Ross' arm and pulling him back down into his seat. "He didn't cheat on me - we weren't in a relationship, so he couldn't have cheated on me, it's just that I got jealous. We had something, and my idea of the situation was that the something we had was exclusive, but we never discussed it at all, so he had a different idea about things. It wasn't his fault, it was both of our faults for not talking about it."

"Still..." Ross leaned back in his chair, attempting to wrap his head around exactly what had gone on between Matty and George across the past six months that he had been so fucking oblivious to. "He shouldn't have kissed her, and fuck, he shouldn't have left you for her, and-" Ross shook his head, burying it in his hands, "fuck, I had no idea what I was doing I'm sorry, I-"

"It's not your fault." Matty told him, reaching for his arm and pulling it away from his face. "Not George's fault either. I don't blame you, I don't blame him, and what I really don't want is for you to be angry with him, because it's passed now, it was a mistake, and that's not going to make things any better."

Ross just sat in silence for a moment, watching Matty in an odd state of awe. "It's been a week, and you've changed so much, I just-"

"It sounds kind of pathetic, really, but," Matty began to explain, twirling a strand of hair around his finger, "I kind of need him, like he just... I didn't want to admit it, because it made me feel pathetic, but it shouldn't, and I'm making a point out of telling myself that it doesn't anymore, so at first I pushed him away, but I don't know how to explain it..." He took a breath, focusing on just how George made him feel. "He's just George, like there's nothing else, like he's this part of me, and that was missing for so long, and now I feel like things make sense now."

"You're in love with him." Ross concluded with a nod, watching the way Matty's cheeks grew pink in response. "That's what it is, and you've been in love with him all this time, and I-"

"I didn't make it easy for myself." Matty assured him. "Don't blame yourself, please. Don't blame George either. Not everything has to be someone's fault." Ross gave him a nod in response, seemingly waiting for Matty to continue, "I walked into that bathroom where they were kissing and I honestly felt like the world was ending. Didn't help how drunk I was, but I felt like maybe I'd imagined the whole thing between us, and just constructed the fact that he felt the same for myself. I just felt pathetic, and stupid, honestly."

"I'm sorry." Ross got up from his chair and pulled Matty up into a hug. "You should have talked to someone about it."

"I know." Matty insisted, pulling away and just hovering by his chair for a moment: a little hesitant to sit back down again. "I was scared to..." He looked away, "I felt ashamed, and that's stupid, but I felt so... weird about the whole sexuality aspect of it. There's nothing to be ashamed of, though, course there's not, but I was just scared, and things shouldn't be different just because we're both guys, so I'm not going to let it be, not anymore."

"You shouldn't, there's nothing different about it." Ross nodded, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket, and pulling it out to see a text from Adam, asking just how things were going. "So..." He let a smile fall across his face, "do you want to tell Adam or do you want me just to very casually text him about it."

Matty grinned, letting out a laugh, "be nonchalantly vague about it, but use the gay couple emoji and then the eggplant thing at the end."

"Matty." Ross gave him a look, shaking his head in disbelief, but then proceeded to do so, because admittedly, okay, it was kind of amusing.

"Also..." Matty began, watching Ross send the message to Hann, "George wanted me to talk to you about how I like..." He trailed off, not entirely sure how to approach it, "basically, I get in a state sometimes, I mean, I do a lot, but then it happened this morning and George wanted me to talk to you about it, because you'd know what to say. It's like, this morning I woke up and I couldn't breathe, and it was like everything was crashing over me, like suddenly everything was just so overwhelming that I couldn't remember how to breathe or move or think about anything other than what was causing it, and then I ended up crying and I don't think I stopped for almost half an hour. It kind of happens often, and I don't know, I never really wanted to think about it, let alone talk about it, but George was worried about me, so... yeah... I'm... a bit of a wreck."

"Matty..." Ross paused for a moment, thinking over what he'd said, "how long has that been happening?"

"Well... it was only bad since New Year, but it never started, it was always just kind of there, just manageable and like not as bad before, because it didn't start happening, it just sort of got worse. Out of control, or something like that." He found himself pulling his eyes away from Ross as he spoke.

"And you can't control when this happens?" Ross asked, running it all through his mind as he found himself entertaining various possibilities, but there was of course one that stood out as the most likely. Matty shook his head. "Do you think they could be panic attacks?"

Matty's head shot up, regarding Ross with a look that implied that he'd suggested something entirely preposterous. "Isn't that like when you can't speak in front of people, like social anxiety, though, and this is different?"

"There's more than one type of anxiety." Ross told him, "and then you don't have to have anxiety to have panic attacks, but I think you might, having thought about things."

Matty let out a sigh, "well, isn't that just fucking wonderful?"

"Matty-" Ross insisted, narrowing his eyes at him.

"What? Wow, well done, I'm fucked up, we've gathered that. It fucking sucks, that's nice, we've gathered that-"

"You can get better, you know?" Ross reached for his arm, holding Matty's gaze as he did so. "You should see a doctor."

"No offense, but nothing about that sounds appealing." Matty shrugged, turning away from Ross as he pulled away from his grip. "It's just part of me - it's not going to go away. That's just stupid."

"It can, though." Ross met him with a pleading look. "Come on, listen to me."

"I don't need a fucking doctor, I can sort things out by myself." Matty folded his arms across his chest, refusing to even contemplate the possibility of it.

"You could, but trust me, it'd be easier. It's just help, Matty, you shouldn't refuse it." Ross insisted, his voice growing softer. "You should take all the help you can get."

Matty didn't respond for a minute or so, letting the silence grow around them, turning the air cold as it did so. However, eventuality struck, as it always did, and with time, Matty came to turn back to Ross: mind having drifted off a little. "I'm scared." He came to admit. "I do want help - I'm just scared."

"You shouldn't be. Things will get better, things will get easier, and you know that, don't you?"

Matty gave a nod, because yes he knew that, but Ross had said nothing about really believing it in his heart. He just couldn't avoid the way this all felt like some sort of dream, some sort of makeshift reality, where you clicked your fingers and immediately received whatever you desired, and Matty knew all too well that the real world just didn't work like that.

-

It drew close to midnight, the bedroom encased in darkness besides the small glow of light illuminating from the night light on Matty's side of the bed, because that was a thing now - it was their bed now, with George laid on his side facing the light, and Matty next to him with his back against George's chest.

The two were growing close to sleep by now, and Matty even lay there with his eyes closed, relaxing into the warmth radiating from George's chest, and the touch of his hand against his chest. George, however, kept his gaze fixated upon the light from lamp, taking an almost excessive interest in the way it fell on their surroundings, and in particular, the way it cast shadows across Matty's face. George knew that he wasn't quite asleep yet, and he had confidence in the fact that he'd be able to tell, but Matty lay there so quietly and at peace with the world that the illusion of sleep was definitely convincing.

However, with the passing of a few minutes, Matty began to stir slightly and open his eyes, glancing back in George's direction and finding that he blushed a little under the sudden eye contact.

"Yeah?" George asked, moving slightly so Matty could turn to look at him. "What is it?"

"George..." Matty began, tucking himself under George's arm as they turned onto their backs. "Do you think that everything will change? Like properly, like in my head, like not just get better, but go away completely." Matty couldn't help but fixate on what Ross had said to him earlier that day, and with the evening spent walking Allen together, Matty hadn't really found the moment to bring it up as of yet. "That's what Ross said."

George gave a nod, coming to remember just what Ross had spoken to him about when he'd returned home from work, and how it had felt so weirdly like Matty was their child that they couldn't talk about serious things in front of, but still, Ross had been looking at him differently and George knew that he didn't mean to cause offense by it, but it was the 'I can't stop thinking about you and Matty being together' kind of look. Though, of course, George had known to expect it.

"I think he's right." George assured him, letting his gaze drift away to the ceiling. "You should see a doctor about it." He could feel the way Matty squirmed in discomfort at the prospect. "It won't be like you think," he promised, although it was much more of a promise based upon hopes and well-wishing as opposed to facts and knowledge, but his heart was definitely in the right place in the matter, and that had to count for something.

"Come with me." Matty pleaded, having remained deep in thought for a good few minutes before he came to such a conclusion.

"Course." George's reply was instant. "Of course I will." He leaned over and pressed a kiss against Matty's cheek, and the two fell back into silence for the few minutes that followed. It was, however, a pleasant kind of silence - comfortable, something they were both at ease with, as of course, they were finally at ease with each other.

"Is it weird now?" Matty gave out a sigh, "was it weird for you? Because I kind of feel weird, just knowing that they know about us, and it's, it's nothing to be worried about, but I'm kind... of nervous. I don't know why, not really."

"How about good weird?" George suggested, stretching a little, "I think it's good weird, you know? Have you checked your phone because they've just been talking about it for ages today?" Matty shook his head, and George considered reaching for his phone to show him, but he just didn't much feel like moving, and it wasn't like the messages wouldn't still be there in the morning. "I mean they're definitely in support of it, but it's like they're getting a little too support at times, but they mean well, I mean, well Adam keeps asking about us fucking, which I've told him hasn't happened, but he doesn't believe me, so that's lovely."

"He's right." Matty's voice faded out into murmur, vibrating slightly against George's chest.

"What?" George raised his eyebrows a little: slightly more awake than Matty, and taking in slightly more of the conversation. "I think I would have noticed if we'd fucked, you know?"

Matty shook his head, groaning slightly. "No... that's not what I mean. I'm saying that we should."

George practically choked on a grasp of breath, and he lay there thankful that the darkness succeeded in hiding the way his cheeks were turning red. "What? Right now?" The words stumbled from his lips: hasty, uncertain, nervous.

"No." Matty opened his eyes a little more, attempting to focus them on George's face, but found himself struggling to keep them open. "I'm going to sleep now, but... I think it'd be a nice thing to do whenever... the right moment arises..."

"Are we not going to be like one of those middle aged couples who set a specific time and day for it?" George grinned, faking astonishment at Matty's suggestion.

Matty snorted, "stop being such a dickhead and go to sleep."

George managed to oblige for a good thirty seconds before something else struck him, "if we do set a specific time and day, it can't be Friday night because Ross invited us over to his."

"We're not-..." Matty trailed off, George's words beginning to make some sense in his head, "and you said yes without consulting with me first?"

"If you had agreed on a specific time and day for our weekly consultations then, I-"

"George, we're not having a fucking family meeting, me, you, and Allen, like shut up." Matty came to attempt sleeping once more, but of course, George still had something more to say.

"But it's alright, isn't it? You don't mind going - it's nothing big, just like Ross and Adam and their girlfriends, and us, for like dinner and shit?"

"George..." Matty trailed off, sitting up in bed, and looking George directly in the eye. "You do realise you've been coerced into a fucking triple date?"

George snorted, stretching his arms out behind his head, "it'll be fun. We can try and piss them off by being... c-... affectionate." The word George had been looking for had been 'coupley' but he came to the realisation that they were exactly a couple yet.

"Because that's the perfect way to make up for being a reclusive wreck for months, isn't it?" Matty rolled his eyes, lying back down and giving George a gentle shove. "Great idea, isn't it?"

He laughed, running his fingers through Matty's hair as he pulled his arms back down from where they'd been stretched out. "Okay, maybe it was more of just an excuse to kiss you."

"You are such a fucking sop." Matty shook his head in disbelief, "come on, admit it, you're ridiculous."

"Ridiculously handsome." George 'corrected' him.

"No, ridiculously annoying when I'm trying to get to sleep." Matty reached across the bed and turned the light off, before leaning back into George's side, closing his eyes for real this time. "If you don't shut up I'm going to kick you out of bed." Matty's voice was perhaps too gentle in relation to the actual meaning behind his words. "Night."

George grinned, knowing that Matty would never actually kick him out, but still, he decided it was best not to risk it, and simply whispered a quick, "goodnight," in response.

-

hey pals hope u liked this chapter !!!!

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also do u like the new cover i think its pretty snazzy and i should know i drew it myself, like drawing ur own fanart #goals obvs

lov u guys !!!!!!!!