"This is a bad idea."

Matty was sat on the windowsill, watching the rain hit the world outside in what almost seemed to resemble a spiteful horde. The window was pushed open slightly as he sat there smoking: doing all he could to keep himself together.

It hadn't been a good few days, but Matty at least had to say that things hadn't been as bad as he'd assumed that they might be. By that, he meant that nothing had physically fallen to pieces... yet.

"Why?" Gemma asked, eyes wide and inquisitive. She watched Matty from where she sat on the living room floor: perched on a cushion next to the coffee table. "What's wrong with it?"

"It's not even bad, it's the worst idea I've ever heard." Matty continued, his tone sharp and evidently rather unwilling to compromise. He didn't even spare the three girls so much of a look across Amber's living room that evening.

It wasn't that he was the epitome of hatred and loathing and everything wrong with the world, it was just a Wednesday evening: far too cold and far too late. He'd had a bad few days, especially the two he'd actually spent at work - still with no sign of George, which was something Matty had only grown to hate ever actually admitting to bothering him.

Truthfully, he didn't want to be there, sat around being social, sat in someone else's house: so forcefully connected to the rest of the world, but he just didn't much fancy the walk home in the current circumstances. Then there was the fact that Amber had even gone as far as to pick him up from work to ensure that he actually came over; it was all part of Gemma's desperate scheme to make him realise his 'worth', or whatever she'd called it. But from Matty's perspective, with all that he knew, it was just fucking depressing - nowhere near worth anyone's time at all.

Matty had gathered that Gemma wasn't content with just leaving him be, just leaving everything to fester, to let nature take its course, to let things happen naturally - the way they should. Since Monday afternoon she'd proposed at least a hundred ideas to help Matty feel better about himself. And each one was just another knife through his chest; it all had to come out soon enough - he wasn't sure he could keep it up any longer.

He began to wonder if he was even just making it worse for himself. He even went as far as to imagine that the fallout they'd endure would be less painful than this: this knowing, this guilt, and every care she had for him. Every care Amber and Marika had too. He reckoned they'd take her side when it came down to it, and really they should, because sympathy was so far beyond something he deserved.

Gemma really did believe she knew the world about him - what kind of person he was, and what kind of happiness he deserved, but really, she'd never been more wrong.

"Matty?" He found himself quickly brought back to reality, to the room, to the expectant faces of the three girls around him, and suddenly Marika - who'd gotten off the sofa, and walked across the room to sit by him at the opposite end of the windowsill.

"What...?" His voice was hesitant, scared almost. Really, that was the last thing he wanted it to be, but his head hurt so much, and his heart hurt more still. He was just so fucking tired of this all: of everything it had come down to, and he just wanted to go home. Maybe even to lock himself up in his room again, and see where it might bring him this time around.

"Why? Why is it such a bad idea?" Marika asked, her tone a lot softer than both Gemma's and Amber's had been. Matty dared to glance across the room, to where the other two girls sat close to one another, entirely absorbed in their own conversation, in their own plans, in their own ideas about everything.

He bit his lip and turned back to Marika. "Several reasons. For a start, you shouldn't put this much care and effort in for me, of all people. Especially when I don't even want you to. Yeah, secondly, you shouldn't do it because I don't want you to. Third, it's going to be a mess, like I mean... parties always are. I don't want you to throw me a party. It's not going to make me happy. That's not how things work, really. Don't you know that? Like what use is a fucking party-... like... it's just going to be another Friday night to get pissed, and then I'll wake up with even more to regret, because the last time I got drunk I really fucked up, you know?"

Marika stopped for a moment, watching Matty tentatively. "What do you mean? What happened last time? Do you mean that time you told us about your gender...?" Her voice was soft - the kind of gentle you were inclined to trust, and Matty was doing all he could not to give in.

Matty shrugged. "No, not that. I guess... maybe that was a good decision in the end. I'm not sure, but whatever... look, it was nothing significant. You know, you just get wasted and it's not a nice experience, I'm not good drunk. I'm not even good normally. I'm a terrible person, and I can't see what kind of fucking appeal you could possibly see in all of this."

Marika let out a sigh, turning back to watch Amber and Gemma, who were both very much engaged in their own conversation: Gemma talking quickly with an excess of gestures and laughter, as Amber set her mind to texting someone, her fingers seeming to move frantically across her phone screen.

Marika leaned closer to Matty and lowered her voice to a whisper. "Look, alright... I'm really not supposed to tell you this, like this is supposed to be a really big secret, but Gemma's whole idea for this, and the reason she's inviting so many people, is because she wants to invite George. She wants to give you two another chance. And look, I think that's a decent opportunity, don't you?"

Matty groaned, his whole body seeming to freeze on the spot. Much to his surprise, however, instead of sinking right to the bottom of his chest, his heart began to soar, beating at double the speed. He found himself filled with an awful kind of hope, met with a feeling he just couldn't explain. As really, if he was being entirely honest with himself, all he wanted in the world was George. To have a proper chance with him, for him to accept him as he was, for him to love him. Matty wanted every single stupid thing. Matty wanted the world. And just everything in it that he could never have.

He knew in that moment, very much for certain, that ignoring it all just couldn't make it go away, but still, there wasn't a chance in hell that he actually had the guts to face him, to so much as look at George again, to make sense of all that had been and all that could be.

"That's such a bad idea." He told her, shaking his head. "I just need to... I don't know... I don't even know why I can't get over him... he's just... so... there's nothing special about him... he's just... I don't know. He has no right to be on my fucking mind anymore, I just-"

"You don't have to even look at him, alright. It can just be a party. You can avoid him all night. You can sit and get pissed with us, and maybe you could go and snog someone else entirely. But... you need to see him again, don't you? Even just for a minute, you need to settle everything. Maybe even talk to him." Marika continued, doing all she could to warm Matty up to the idea.

"Such a bad idea." He repeated, shaking his head rather adamantly.

"Alright. If you think so, but look... Gemma's put so much work into this for you, turn up, alright? Get as drunk as you want to, do whatever you want, just try to have a good time. Who knows? You might in the end." Marika got to her feet, noticing the way Amber's gaze had begun to linger on her from across the room.

"Unlikely." Matty shrugged it off. "But yeah, whatever. I guess. I mean... it's something to do on a Friday night, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Marika nodded, smiling. "It's that. It's whatever you want it to be, after all."

"Yeah..." Matty let out a sigh, dragging his gaze back to the rain, to the heavy ache in his chest, to the truth about this all.

He didn't even know how he ought to feel about the possibility of seeing George again, he didn't even know if he could properly formulate emotions at all. It was almost as if it hadn't properly sunk in yet. Or as if the real George had all just faded from his mind completely, and the George that Matty had become so fixated on was just the one he'd constructed for himself.

Either way, however, there was really only one way to find out. And as Matty knew from experience, a sufficient number of glasses of wine could just about talk him into anything.

-

Matty didn't get home until nine that evening, having wanted to avoid getting soaked on the way there. Part of him expected at least one of his parents to be waiting for him at the front door the very moment he got in, demanding his entire life story and a great description of where he'd been, but that didn't happen. Matty had to admit that he just wasn't entirely accustomed to being eighteen yet, to being an adult, to having the kind of responsibility where he was left to mostly take care of himself.

He stood waiting in the hallway for a good minute, as if he expected that eventually someone would have to come out and ask him where he'd been, ask him of the hours he'd wasted away. But nothing came of it. The house remained still, silence broken only by the sound of the TV on in the living room.

Eventually, Matty just made his way upstairs, ready to hide himself away in his room and think about what could possibly come of Friday night. He even dared to wonder as to just what position he might be in a week's time, because truly, that was such a horrible thought to think.

As he made it into the landing he couldn't help but notice Louis' bedroom door - left slightly ajar, leaving the vague muffled sound of music to seep out into the hallway. Matty stood there for a moment, watching the door, daring to even approach. He couldn't deny that there just seemed to be something odd about it all; something that just didn't sit quite right in his mind.

"Matty?" Louis' voice eventually called out, the muffled music coming to a very sudden stop, almost drowning the upstairs in a horrible kind of silence that chilled Matty right to the bone.

"Yeah...?" Matty called out after him, taking a tentative step towards his brother's bedroom door.

"Can I ask you about something?" Louis' voice grew softer, barely audible through the door. It hit something inside of Matty, a sort of brotherly instinct, and he didn't even spare a single thought before he pushed the door open and made his way inside.

"Course. Yeah." He told him, voice as soft as he could make it, turning to see Louis sat on his bed.

"Close the door." Louis urged him, stretching his legs out across the bed as he fidgeted slightly. He was very obviously nervous; Matty couldn't deny that, but he thought best not to comment upon it until he had indeed shut the door behind him.

"What is it?" Matty asked, standing awkwardly for a moment, before taking a seat on the end of Louis' bed. "What's going on?" He turned to face his brother, finding his own issues seemed to dissipate slightly in favour of the current matter at hand. Really, Matty wasn't a bad brother at all - far from it.

Louis let out a sigh, leaning forward a little as he faced Matty. "What's going on with you? I'm worried about you. There's obviously something, but I-... I don't know. I've tried to figure it out, but I don't know... it's bothering me."

Matty looked at Louis oddly, as if he was trying so very desperately to keep his whole world locked up inside of him. As really, his thirteen year old brother was perhaps the last person he would have thought to be onto him. Yet, there was no denying that Louis was certainly more intuitive than Matty had given him credit for.

"There is, isn't there?" Louis continued, watching the look in Matty's eyes. "And you won't talk to mum or dad about it, I know that. They were worried about you, you know... last weekend, when you locked yourself up in your room. I did my best to talk them out of it, you know? I figured if you weren't telling them why, it was for a reason. I just started thinking about it all though myself, and there's been something up for a while, not just this last weekend."

"Yeah..." Matty let out a sigh, finding that perhaps in that moment he owed his brother more than he could ever express. "Look, please don't worry about me, though. I am fine, I just... there's some weird stuff going on in my head right now."

"What kind of weird?" Louis asked: making it clear that he was perhaps just as stubborn as Matty was himself.

And just for a moment, Matty did let himself imagine just what might come of their little conversation if he told the truth. Not even the whole truth, but if he just looked his brother in the eyes and told him that he was into men, or that last weekend he'd gone out and fucked his best friend's ex. He just wondered if those were the kind of things he could possibly even tell his little brother.

"Look... I don't want to go into detail, but I've been a bad friend and I'm feeling unbelievably guilty about that. And then there's this personal stuff... it's kind of like really complicated... but it sort of makes me question my whole identity, and it's just weird. It's a lot. Yeah... it's a lot."

He let out a sigh, daring to chance meeting Louis' gaze. As much as his brother did want to know the whole truth of it all. He met him with an understanding kind of look in his eyes, as if he knew that it was just the best he was going to get out of him, and that it would just have to do.

"You can talk to me though, whenever you want, alright?" Louis continued, watching as Matty got to his feet. "Just don't... I don't know... try and get better, try and fix whatever's going on, because I feel like you're just brooding, like you don't want to fix it all, maybe just to have something to mope around about, I don't know, but please try."

Matty stood there, entirely astounded, looking down at his brother with wide, unblinking eyes.

"I'm sorry, was that rude, I-" Louis began, his words coming out all too fast and all too sharp.

"No." Matty let out a sigh. "You're exactly right."

-

It was Louis that had really inspired him to go in the end; what his brother had said to him that Wednesday night, with the kind of grasp on the situation that Matty had never imagined that he could have had. That had somehow meant the world.

Matty made his way down to Gemma's at five that Friday night, almost excited, almost eager. He found that a part of him had recognised that whatever happened that night, this was how things changed, and this awkward, drawn out stage of nothingness just had to come to some sort of end. Something had to come of the night, whatever it could be, and Matty found no better option than just to embrace that.

There was no denying that even Gemma was a little surprised to see him, perhaps even at all, or even just so early, with such an optimistic look about him. Matty could help agree that all in all, it was rather out of character for him, especially considering the fact that he was actually sober for once, but instead of repressing everything, he'd come to accept the great part of him that was just so stupidly desperate to see George again.

"You look happy." Gemma eyed him warily as she followed him up to her room. She hadn't expected him, Marika, or Amber around until at least a good half an hour later, giving them still a couple of hours to set up for the party. Not that she'd ever imagined they'd actually spend that time any more productively than making a Spotify playlist and popping down to the corner shop to buy copious amounts of alcohol.

"What, do you want me to walk around looking incredibly depressed now?" Matty raised his eyebrows, looking back at her with all the confidence in the world. He might even tell her. About Ryan. About last weekend. The truth of it all. He was buzzing enough to dare to try it.

"No, I'm just..." She shook her head, trailing off as she followed Matty into her room, closing the door behind her. "Bit confused. That's all." She admitted, watching as Matty sat himself down on the end of her bed. "Are you sure you're not drunk?"

"Yeah, I'm honestly sober." Matty stretched out across her bed. "You'd be able to tell if I was drunk. I mean, I've got the worst ideas in the world when I'm drunk, I've not done one stupid thing all day. Well maybe not even stupid, sometimes just brave. It's weird, though, I feel brave now. Maybe not brave, maybe just empowered, because I didn't feel brave that night, I just felt empowered, like there was hope, or something. I feel like that now. I think I should be scared. I think I should be terrified. Maybe even shitting myself, but I'm not. I think you're right, I think this is how it's supposed to go."

"Matty, mate, no offence, but..." Gemma shook her head, sitting down beside him and patting him tentatively on the arm. "What the fuck are you on about?"

"George." He admitted, not a degree of hesitance in his voice. Gemma raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, don't kill her but Marika told me. Please don't kill her, alright? Look, I mean... I was pretty pissed off then, but I'm fine now, I'm like, maybe even thankful... I just... I feel like I need to acknowledge him again, properly, and then this mess is going to go away."

"Fuck's sake." Gemma let out a sigh, but quickly came to conclude that really, she just wasn't even upset. "Fuck, whatever. It worked, didn't it? You're alright now, aren't you? You seem the most alright you've been in weeks."

"Yeah..." Matty trailed off. "I guess I'm just too focused on George to think about anything else. My gender and shit... I guess that's kind of nice." He let out a sigh. "And now, of course, I've started to think about it again, haven't I?"

"What are you thinking about?" Gemma asked, watching him carefully. "With your gender? Like what is it exactly that's going through your head."

"I keep thinking about last weekend. How I thought I was brave but I just wasn't brave at all. I was just drunk. Funny that I feel the same way now. And I'm completely sober. Maybe there's some kind of hope in that. I don't know-"

"What do you mean? What happened last weekend?" She continued, doing her best to infer all she could from the very little he'd given her to go on.

"Fuck, it's best not to go there." He let out a sigh, sitting up and moving to lean against the wall. "But... I... you know how I called you crying last weekend because I was having some sort of gender meltdown?"

"Yeah." She nodded, finding that it had been awfully hard to forget in actual fact.

"Well... I went out after that. That night. You know, to prove something to myself, and I... I got drunk, I got drunk enough to sneak out the house with my mum's makeup on, you know? It was tragic, but I really had tried. I was sort of going out with that tragically wasted kind of pretty. The kind of girl you might meet outside a Lidl at four in the morning, asking you for some fags. I didn't end up at Lidl at four in the morning though, I went to this club... and I..." Matty's voice grew heavier, part of him desperately wanting just to get it over with, to tell her about Ryan, to live with that, but he just couldn't. "I met this guy. And he took me back to his place and he fucked me. And at the time, all night I'd thought it was this beautiful meaningful thing, like that it would mean the world, but then I don't know... suddenly it was two in the morning and I was just lying there in some guy's bed, and nothing felt magical anymore. I just felt sick really. I guess I just finally realised that sex isn't going to fix everything."

"Matty..." Gemma trailed off, her eyes widening as she came to the rather uncomfortable conclusion that she just didn't have the slightest clue what to say.

"Yeah... and then I was trying to deal with that for the past few days." He let out a sigh, already coming to regret that he'd dared to speak it aloud. To make it real, to live it over again. "I just have to try and fix things, though. I think maybe talking to George is the best shot I've got. Maybe even just to make my fucking head realise that he's just a guy. That he's nothing special, nothing to waste my life over. I think I'd even welcome that."

Gemma didn't say anything at all. Instead she just leaned forward and pulled Matty into a hug: holding him there, tight against her chest for what felt like forever. Really, Matty wished he could have felt safe there, comforted, calm, finally, but still, he was cutting himself into pieces as he locked the last part of the truth inside of him again.

"Fuck... Matty... I just..." Gemma pulled away, rubbing her eyes and meeting her best friend's gaze. "I'm proud of you. You know that, right? I think... I think this is the start of things getting better again. You always needed to realise that fucking every boy you saw just wasn't the answer. And I'm proud of you, for going out there in makeup, for being true to yourself, because really, that is brave."

Matty even went as far as to laugh, shaking his head. "No, it was just stupid. All of it. I'd never do it again. Any of it. I just... I don't know... I've been trying not to think about it really."

"That's why it was brave. The makeup thing, really." She told him, her voice softer than before. "Because you're scared this time around. I don't think you should be. I think if you feel better about yourself when you present more femininely, then you should do that."

Matty groaned, rubbing his eyes. He was well aware of the fact that really, Gemma was only trying to help him, but still, bringing his gender to the fore front of his mind like this was probably the last thing he'd needed.

"I did... I did feel better about myself..." Matty admitted, more just to the wall than Gemma herself, his tone barely more than a whisper. "I just don't think I could do it sober. And I don't want to get that drunk again. Not for a while now, because I don't want to fuck up again, I don't want to do any more stupid things. I just want to make sense of everything. And anyway, I looked terrible. I'm telling you that now."

"I could do your makeup, you know? If you want." She offered, moving closer to him still. "Whenever you want. You'd look good, I promise. I think it'd make you feel good as well."

"Yeah... maybe..." He let out a sigh, shaking his head. "Just not... I don't want to... not now... it's already too much. Not for the party and everything. I wouldn't want anyone else to see me like that, not now. You're right, I'm scared. No, I guess I'm terrified."

Gemma nodded, pausing for a moment as she considered their situation. "We've got time, you know? Until everyone else gets here. And you really do look like you need to feel better about yourself."

Only five minutes later, Matty found himself sat on the bedroom floor, his hair tied back and away from his face, a large glass of water by his feet. He'd downed it as if it was a shot, almost as if to trick himself that it was.

Truthfully, he was curious. He wanted to see what Gemma could do. He wanted to see how she could make him look. He even went as far as to imagine that he might look pretty. Properly. And not just in a weird kind of degenerate way. He put all his trust into that dream and fixed his gaze to the wall, only half listening to the few offhand comments Gemma made as she rooted around through her makeup bag.

There was, of course, the voice at the back of his mind telling him that this was all wrong, that this was all fucked, that this was all going to make it worse, but Matty had come to accept that voice as somewhat of a constant: prevalent amidst anything he might do, and only hoped that all of this might be able to alleviate it somehow. Or at the very least, just the mess and the self-doubt, the knot that had tied itself deep down inside of his chest, or the irregular beating of his heart.

"You're nervous, aren't you?" Gemma met Matty with a knowing look as she sat down in front of him. She held his gaze for a good few moments, wondering if there was something more she could say before she continued to root around in her makeup bag.

"Yeah." Matty admitted, watching her search through the bag. "Can you like... talk me through what you're doing... it's stupid but I think it'd calm me down a little."

"Course." She looked up, meeting him with a smile, before pulling a few products out of the bottom of her bag. "Right so, I think you're paler than me, so I'm a bit worried that this foundation is going to look a bit dodgy, but I think it'll be fine. I can always blend it out a little."

"Foundation's the face one isn't it?" Matty asked, watching as she opened up a little tube.

Gemma raised her eyebrows. "The face one? Matty, it's all going on your face, isn't it?"

He let out a sigh, rolling his eyes. "You know what I mean. The like... skin tone one. I'm sorry, I really don't know that much about makeup. I know like basics, but-"

"So I'll give you a brief overview, as well." Gemma finished for him, holding up the tube she'd just opened for him to look at. "This is concealer. You know, for covering like spots, or dark circles, things like that-"

"Are you saying I need concealing?" Matty wasn't sure whether he was supposed to be offended or not. He narrowed his eyes across at Gemma uncertainly.

"You don't really need it, I guess no one really needs it, I don't know, I think it just looks better." Gemma explained, glancing down at the few products she'd placed down on the ground between them.

"Fine, whatever. I think I'm stupid enough to trust you." Matty let out a sigh, moving forward to allow Gemma to begin applying the concealer, mostly under his eyes, as really, Matty was well aware of his dark circles.

Gemma giggled a little. "You're not stupid. Not at all." She assured him, glancing down at her makeup bag for a moment. "Really, I should blend this in with a brush, but I've..."

"It's fine if you use your fingers." Matty let out a sigh, flashing Gemma a smile. "Really, I've had much worse things than your grubby fingers all over my face."

Gemma raised an eyebrow as she leaned forward, holding his face still with one hand as she began to blend in his concealer. Matty couldn't deny that there definitely was something therapeutic about this.

"What worse things?" She made the mistake of inquiring as she reached down for the bottle of foundation.

"I mean..." Matty let out a sigh, finding himself edging awkwardly around the subject before he thought fuck it and just went for it. "Cum. For a start. And cock. Cock too.

"Matty." Gemma widened her eyes in disbelief. Really, she wasn't quite so surprised about what he'd told her, but just how casually he'd offered it up.

"What actually is the point of foundation?" Matty found himself asking, watching as she squeezed some out onto the back of her hand, as if he'd never just casually slipped the subject of cum into their conversation. "I mean, your skin is already your skin tone, so like... what does it do?"

"Evens out your skintone really. I mean, most people don't wear a full proper face of makeup everyday, I just thought I might as well go full out here." She explained, applying the foundation to Matty's face, again rubbing it in with her fingers.

Really, there was something odd about their situation, something that if they were just any other two people in the world would be declared as weird. Yet somehow, this was normal. This was their normal. And not just that, this was comforting. Matty was calm. Properly. For the first time in far too long.

"I'm gonna go for a bit of powder on the top. That sets your foundation onto your face. It's not necessary, but it looks better." Gemma reached for a circular plastic container, struggling to open it for a minute, before rummaging around in her bag. "Really do need a brush for this. I should be using brushes, this is hardly hygienic is it? I know I have some somewhere." She rooted around in the bottom of her bag, eventually retrieving a large, fluffy brush from something like Narnia down there.

"Is this supposed to tickle?" Matty asked, unable to stop himself from grinning as Gemma spread the powder across his face with the brush. In response, she brushed it across his cheeks even more lightly than she had before. Matty recoiled a little, letting out an embarrassing little squeak as he did so.

"You're ridiculous." Gemma told him, rolling her eyes. "Properly ridiculous." She told him, pulling a small palette out of her bag and then proceeded to glance down between it and Matty for a good few moments.

"What are you doing?" Matty asked, his voice a little tentative, but far from the kind of nervous he'd been before. He wasn't sure if it was down to the makeup itself, or just the calming manner in which she'd applied it, coupled with the sweet tone to her voice. Or if it was the two of them together, sat on her bedroom floor, somehow worlds away from everything else in that moment.

"I'm not sure which shade of contour to use." Gemma explained, turning the palette across to Matty. She pointed to two adjacent brown shades at the bottom of the plate. "It's one of these two."

"Go for the lighter one." Matty suggested, shrugging vaguely as he decided.

"Yeah, that's probably the better option, I mean I can always darken it if I need to." She turned away, rooting around in her bag for another brush.

"I just picked a random one really, but yeah." Matty admitted, meeting Gemma with a smile as she reached out held his head steady. Matty had thought that this might have been somewhat awkward, but he just felt comfortable, safe, even in with Gemma's hand against his jaw.

"Pout a bit." She told him, rolling her eyes at just how unnecessarily overdramatically Matty went for it. She didn't care enough to properly comment on it, and instead just contoured his cheekbones, a little on his jawline, but she used it sparingly - careful to emphasise femininity over anything else.

"That's highlighter, I know that." Matty pointed, almost smugly as Gemma pulled away, moving her brush to one of the lighter shades in the palette.

"Well done." She grinned up at him, before leaning forward again and applying a small amount of highlight to the top of his cheekbones, browbone, and just a little down the bridge of his nose.

"You know..." Matty trailed off, watching as Gemma turned back to her bag. "I just... I feel like the problem is that I definitely couldn't replicate this myself, like... all... this like... you're still on my skin and you've put about five different products on."

"You don't have to use all of these things." She told him, opening a brow palette. "Just what you want to wear. And, I'll do your makeup for you anytime you want, you know?"

"Is this like properly fun for you or is it just dull, or am I annoying? Are you frustrated by trying to make something decent out of my perpetually ugly face?" Matty laughed, leaving Gemma to tut a little as she held his head steady, filling in his eyebrows as carefully as she could.

"It's relaxing, I think. I quite like doing it. I mean, I quite like doing makeup in general, and then... I can see this is making you happy, so that makes me happy, you know?" She explained, watching for a moment as a series of emotions flashed across his eyes. "You're not ugly. At all." She added, her voice sterner than it had been all day.

"I am. Well... I don't know... not ugly... just... I... it's sort of hard to phrase..." Matty trailed off, letting the two sit in silence for a while as Gemma finished his brows.

She pulled away a few minutes later and Matty watched carefully as her face lit up with a smile. "Those are good brows. Honestly. I think I've outdone myself to be honest."

Matty let out a giggle, watching as she pulled out an eyeshadow palette, containing more colours than Matty could have possibly imagined ever wanting to use.

"Do you have any sort of look in mind? Like... colours or anything...?" Gemma asked, glancing down at the palette as she considered a few colour combinations herself.

Matty didn't answer her, however. Well, he did, he just didn't answer her question. "I'm not ugly. Maybe half ugly. It's like..." He continued, leaving Gemma to quickly catch up to the reference to his previous point. "I'm not an ugly boy. I'm just an ugly girl. If that makes sense. Like femininity doesn't quite look right. Even though it feels right. I feel like it's so very... just off."

"Matty, let me tell you now, I'm not even done yet, but you look beautiful, alright?" She assured him, leaning closer to emphasis her point. "Don't ever let yourself believe any of that shit, because honestly, it's just not true. Now, do you have any colour suggestions?"

"Can it be like... a bit dark and dramatic, like a bit goth, but not like Marilyn Manson, just a bit... edgy? I don't know-"

"Edgy?" Gemma burst into a fit of laughter. "God, Matty, you're... ridiculous." She let out a sigh, shaking her head. She complied, however, going for a sort of smokey eye look, with a gradient of browns into black. Gemma had never claimed to be any sort of professional makeup artist, but this definitely looked pretty good.

"Are you doing eyeliner next, because can you do one of those wings because they look so good and there's no chance in hell that I'll ever be able to do that?" Matty watched as she pulled out a tube of liquid eyeliner, grinning a little.

"I can't promise it's going to look spectacular, but I can do eyeliner wings." She told him, realising suddenly that she'd put eyeliner on her own eyelid perhaps a thousand times before, but never actually on someone else's.

Gemma held Matty's face perhaps a little more tightly than she should have, succeeding in pulling off one near perfect wing, and then another which really wasn't even at all, but she managed to fix to look decent enough.

"Alright, so you know... mascara...?" She began, reaching for another tube in her bag. "That's the one for your eyelashes-"

"The one that blinds you-"

"Matty, look, it's not going to blind you-"

"It fucking is!" Matty exclaimed, suddenly beginning to fear for his life.

"Look, just hold steady and it'll be fine. We're nearly done anyway, it's just this, and then I've already picked out this really nice dark red lipstick." She didn't give Matty chance to argue over that before she leaned in, hoping to god that she didn't blind Matty in the process, and applied two coats of mascara to his top lashes, and then a half coat to his bottom ones. She had wondered if it was a bit much, but as she pulled away and just properly looked at Matty, she knew that it had been the right decision.

Surprisingly, Matty hadn't put up any kind of argument in regards to the shade of lipstick Gemma had chosen, and instead was relatively silent and cooperative as she applied it, over drawing his cupid's bow just a little bit.

"Fuck..." Gemma let out a sigh, fully taking in Matty's appearance as he untucked a few strands of hair from behind his ears.

"Is that a good or bad... fuck...?" Matty asked, suddenly more nervous than he had ever been before.

"Unbelievably good. Fuck, Matty, I'm-" Gemma was actually astounded, not far off speechless, and really, she wasn't sure if it had so much to do with her actual ability with applying makeup, or just the way Matty made it work. Really, he'd been so, so wrong in thinking that he didn't quite fit femininity. Really, Gemma wondered if she'd ever heard anyone be quite so wrong in her life.

Matty blushed a little, very much at a loss for what to say. "Can I see...?" He dared to ask, daring to face his appearance and the truth behind it all. There was no denying that he'd weighted entirely too much on this, and despite Gemma's assurances, he was just so very terrified of being let down.

"I need to take a photo of you." Gemma told him, not giving him an opportunity to say no before she pulled her phone out, leaving Matty to sit there, trying to look the least ugly he could as she snapped a few quick photos. "Honestly... you..." She flicked through the photos on her phone. "You look amazing."

"Fuck, Gem- just... show me." Matty didn't wait for her to respond, and instead grew far too impatient, snatching the phone from her hands, his eyes meeting the image displayed before him, and then, his heart just about stopped.

"Fuck..." Matty felt his jaw drop, as if ready to make a permanent departure from the rest of his face entirely. "I look... I look... is that- fuck... I just..." He looked back up at Gemma. "Fuck... thank you... I... fuck..." He stumbled to his feet, turning to the mirror at the other side of her room, and properly meeting his reflection.

There, for the first time in what felt like forever, Matty caught his reflection in the mirror, and stood before him was someone he didn't despise, loathe, or even have the slightest distaste for. Instead, stood someone that he hoped one day he just might have the guts to be, forever, permanently. As there, in Gemma's room, that Friday evening, Matty finally saw an image of himself that aligned more with the person he knew he was inside than he could have ever imagined.

But fuck, as much as Matty knew that this was really him, a version of himself he could feel comfortable in, even proud to be, he knew with his whole being that there was just no way in hell that he could keep this on, that he could be around people like this, that he could be around George like this. Because through this all, still, Matty was just so very terrified.

But he found himself again a good half an hour later, body seeming to ache all over as he faced his reflection in the bathroom mirror. The water was cold, so cold that it burned him through his skin, right down to his bones. It wasn't the water he'd been so bothered about at all, it was what remained afterwards. After he washed it all off, as he scrubbed and tore at his own skin too.

He stared at his reflection for a good few minutes: eyes red and raw, and skin seeming to have crumbled slightly under the harsh contact of his fingers. He stared at his reflection and struggled to come to terms with the fact that this, under everything else, was really him. It hurt in a weird kind of way. Much less like a sharp pain, but something more like a constant ache, only intensified at times.

Matty struggled to tear his eyes away, to get on with his life, to get on with evening. To force a smile on his face, to step outside and pretend he hadn't built up the whole world before his very eyes, just to tear it right back down to the ground again. He hated that it had to be this way. Hate was a strong word. Such a strong word. But he met his reflection in the mirror, he focused in on every imperfect part of himself, and suddenly, hate just wasn't strong enough.

-

George had decided that this had to be the perfect way to waste away his Friday night. Still, he could think of just about a million things that he really should be doing instead, but nothing matched the appeal of a party: a night out with his friends, a night out to bury himself in everything that would hold no meaning come morning.

He didn't want to go as far as to say that he was having a hard time, because he wasn't. Especially not in the grand scheme of things, because there were people who were dying, and here he was, realising he was a little bit in over his head with his coursework. Of course, that wasn't the only thing in the world that was bothering him, but there were just some things that George just didn't let himself think about.

Really, George hadn't expected to be the sort of person that Amber Bain wanted to invite to a party. Sure, Amber was nice enough, but he'd never really imagined that she actually liked him at all. He'd gathered that it wasn't a big thing though: her friend's party, and it did seem an awful lot like half the world was coming.

He'd asked his friend, Adam, to come along too, because as much as Amber was lovely, he wanted someone he actually knew decently around. Then, as if his night couldn't get anymore chaotic, Ross and John had decided to tag along too. George hadn't said anything, of course, because he was a decent human being, but him and Adam had shared a look, and there really just was a part of George that was practically ecstatic for the very moment he could get away from the two of them. They were the worst couple: forever attached at the hip.

When they'd first arrived, everyone had gone off for drinks, but George had stayed put, glancing around hopefully for any sign of Amber. He wasn't entirely sure what he'd wanted to say to her, but he was sure he could think of something. Really, he just didn't want to drink, especially not that night. He'd never been much for drinking in the first place, but he just didn't entirely trust himself to end up wasted in the house of a girl he didn't even know. He was, of course, sure that Amber's friend was lovely, but there was just the matter that he'd never actually met her.

George admitted defeat eventually, coming to conclude that Amber was just about nowhere to be seen, and headed off after his friends, wondering if he just might let Adam talk him into having a beer, because he knew Adam well enough to know that he would at the very least try. It appeared, however, that the universe had developed somewhat of a grudge on him, as try as he might, he just couldn't spot Adam, Ross, or John, anywhere. Really, they had to be somewhere, because it wasn't even like it was a big house - there were just an awful lot of people crammed inside it.

If George was being entirely honest with himself, he'd never really particularly liked house parties. He'd just gone along for the ride, and really for the hope there might be someone somewhere who he could bum a smoke off. It was safe to say that George didn't have particularly high aspirations in life.

He wandered around aimlessly for a good five minutes or so, looking around vaguely for any hope of a familiar face. And really, he did think about texting someone to ask where they were, but there was just that part of him that didn't want to be there at all. That part of him was steadily growing inside of him, coming even to consume him whole as he let out a sigh, slipping out through the backdoor and relishing in the sudden breath of fresh air that hit his lungs.

It was then that George really became aware of his surroundings: of the dim light creeping into the small back garden he'd walked out into, and a figure sat down on the grass, off to the other side of the garden, back turned to George. Seeing as George liked to think that he wasn't just a colossally annoying dickhead, he decided to leave whoever it was be, to their own business, just as he hoped they might leave him to his own as he decided just what the fuck he was actually going to do with himself. He thought just for a moment, as to why he'd really even agreed to come in first place. But then the smell hit him.

Within seconds, there was absolutely no doubt in George's mind that it was weed. That, whoever it was over there, had positioned themselves down nicely with a lovely bag of weed. And really, George did like to think that he was more than a colossally annoying dickhead, but really, in that moment, as the last rays of the sunlight faded away over the horizon, there was no question about the fact that he'd kill a man for a spliff.

"Hey... mate... uhh..." George sort of lost track of his own thoughts, and really common sense itself, as he crossed over to the other side of the garden, lingering rather awkwardly just a little way behind the figure.

"What...?" The figure turned their head, eyes immediately latching onto George's amidst the darkness. That moment, however, was nothing any kind of common sense could have possibly prepared George for.

"Fuck..." His eyes grew wide, blinking rapidly, as if he might manage to make this all just disappear. "Matty. Fuck- I... Matty... I-"

"George..." Matty trailed off, his heart rising in his chest as he fell apart into a sudden mess of emotions. Suddenly, this was everything, this was the climax of his whole week, and really, it was taking place out in Gemma's garden with a bag of weed he'd nicked out of some guy's coat earlier. That wasn't something he'd been particularly proud of, but really, needs must.

"Matty..." George let out a sigh, mirroring Matty's tone somewhat. He didn't bother to ask for an invitation to sit down, instead taking the spot beside him without a moment's thought.

"Please... look... alright... I know it was weird, I know I was being weird, and I know I've fucked you off somehow, because you obviously don't want to see me again, but look, I've had a proper shitty night, and a proper shitty week, so can we just... just don't alright?" Matty bit his lip, daring to glance across at George as he spoke. He was however, somewhat amused to see that George seemed to be far more interested in his weed than anything he might have to say for himself.

"Yeah." George nodded, struggling to properly make sense of what it was that Matty really meant. "I just-... I'm sorry, alright?"

"You're sorry? What the fuck have you done?" Matty shook his head in disbelief, following George's eyes back down to the bag of weed. "Look, fucking help yourself, it's not even mine."

"Who's is it?" George asked, not waiting for a response before he began to roll himself a spliff.

"Got no clue honestly." Matty told him, letting out a nervous kind of breathy laughter: doing all he could to overcompensate, to fill in the gaps between the two of them, to make something out of this. Even when there was such a clear lack of anything at all. "Don't call me a bad person but I nicked it out of someone's coat pocket. It was stupidly easy, half the world's left their fucking prized possessions out at the front of the house."

"So you stole it...?" George stopped for a moment, unsure as to what kind of grasp he could possibly think he might already have on Matty as a person.

"Yeah, whatever, fine, that's kind of fucked up, but where the fuck have you been for the past few weeks?" Matty couldn't help but raise his voice, everything inside him reaching a certain point where it all began to break. "Where the fuck have you been? And then you're just... just fucking here, and-... it's fucked, everything's so fucking fucked. Why the fuck didn't you come back, what the fuck did I do?"

"Matty..." George's voice was hesitant, nervous even, as he caught sight of the raw kind of emotional look in Matty's eyes. "You didn't do anything at all. I thought... honestly I thought... I don't know what I thought, I just didn't think you really wanted to see me again. Like you were politely trying to get me to fuck off for good. And then, really, I did need to try and get my life together instead of just wasting it away sat in a coffeeshop, you know?"

"Fuck's sake." Matty snapped, shaking his head. "What fucking- fuck..." He groaned, burying his head in his hands. "So I'm sorry if this makes me sound like the world's biggest bellend but I've literally spent the past few fucking weeks worrying about what it is that I've done that's made you fuck off. And that's fucking ridiculous, because you're just some fucking guy, like you're George, but I don't know you, but you're George, and now you're here again, and I can't just... I can't just... I know you now. I'm about to cry in front of you we've reached that fucking stage. I just. I couldn't get you out of my head, you know? Sounds proper pathetic, doesn't it? I didn't even mean it in a weird way, but maybe that is weird, but-"

"Matty." George interrupted him, reaching across and placing a hand down onto his shoulder. "Just... look... it's fine. I'm sorry. Look, it's just... it's... fuck... please don't cry, alright? Please don't cry. Why are you crying about this? What in god's fucking name have I done that's worth crying over? You shouldn't be crying over me."

Matty bit his lip, shaking his desperately, as to his credit, he did try. He did try so very hard not to cry. The thing was, however, that he just didn't quite manage it.

"It's not just you, alright." Matty choked out, hating no moment in his life more than he'd come to hate this one. "Everything's fucked, really. I was in tears like an hour ago as well, I've had a fucking night, you know? One hell of a fucking night. It's hardly even night it's fucking ten in the evening. Fucking hell, I should just go home and go to sleep, shouldn't I? This is all so fucked. And now I'm crying in front of you, and it's just-"

"You can cry in front of me, it's fine." George assured him, his voice the kind of slow and soothing that Matty needed in that moment. The concern evident in his voice had somewhat come to instantly make up Matty's entire world.

"Bit pathetic though, isn't it?" Matty sighed, moving a little closer to George - really, unable to help himself.

"Bit pathetic of me never to go back into a coffeeshop because I was scared of what some guy thought of me, though, wasn't it?" George met him with a smile. "Come on, do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?" Matty asked, his voice entirely too fast paced, as if he was just entirely terrified about what it was that could lie waiting on his tongue.

"About whatever you want. About whatever's bothering you. I'll listen if you want me to. And I'm not going to judge you, I promise." And somehow, that, combined with the gentle tone of George's voice, and the little bag of weed shared between them, was all Matty really did need.

He took just a minute for himself, taking a drag of his spliff and trying to drown himself in his grasping, desperate intake of breath. He wasn't nearly high enough yet; he still felt like himself. High was different to drunk, so somehow, this just didn't seem to mean so much at all.

Matty was struck by a rather radical idea, however, because suddenly, for the first time, it hit him - it wasn't getting high that was going to solve all of his problems, it was actually acknowledging them aloud.

"Alright..." He let out a sigh, unsure as to quite where he perhaps should begin. Part of him wanted to ease into things, to over explain everything down to the very last detail, but somehow, in the evening light, in their own little world out there, that didn't seem to mean anything at all. Nothing seemed to hold the same value it perhaps would have in the light, inside, in the warmth, spoken to familiar faces. This was just George. And Matty knew this to be the start of accepting that he just didn't mean as much as he liked to think that he did.

"So. Last weekend." Matty turned to George, holding his gaze with every ounce of bravery he just wished he could have had. "I went out to a club, and I got very drunk. Maybe even too drunk. I mean, probably too drunk, but I met this guy. Well, I didn't meet him. But I met him properly. His name's Ryan. And he was too nice to me. All compliments and buying me drinks and all that shit, so yeah. I let him take me back to his place. I was beyond drunk, like absolutely out of it, maybe just sobering up a little by the time we were in bed together. By the time he fucked me." Matty paused for a moment, watching the sudden shift of emotions and realisation upon George's face.

He didn't, however, give him ample chance to respond. To give the usual generic acceptance speech. Matty wasn't here to hear that kind of bullshit. "At the time, it was like the most wonderful thing in the world, because I don't know. I just... he wasn't even properly hot, he just-... he was just... anyone. As fucked as it sounds, I was just absolutely over the moon with the fact that anyone would fuck me. Like that meant something. Because I really thought it did. Then afterwards, everything immediately just fizzled out, like it sort of just hit me. What I'd done and I've not been able to get rid of the guilt since."

"The guilt?" George inquired, leaving Matty astounded by the fact that his first response had been something not immediately linked to his sexuality.

"Yeah. I really shouldn't have fucked him." Matty admitted, letting out a sigh. "You know Gemma?" George shook his head. "Fucking hell. You know Amber, don't you? She's in your classes, yeah. Well, this is Gemma's party, this is Gemma's house. Gemma's my best friend. Like best friend. And... Ryan... Ryan's sort of her ex-boyfriend. That I made her leave."

"Oh..." George trailed off his eyes growing wide. "Have you told her?"

"Fuck, no. Jesus fucking... fuck no. She'll kill me. She'll hate me- I should. I really should. I have to. I mean eventually. And then, the guilt is killing me. I guess it's going to be worse if she doesn't find out from me, I just-... it's fucked, honestly. The reason I made her end it with him was because I thought he was being homophobic to me, because he kept looking at me funny. Fuck that, turns out he was checking me out- fuck... that's fucked- that's... who the fuck checks out their girlfriend's best friend. Well, they- they were never officially together. But it was definitely a thing."

"It sounds like he's a dick, to be honest." George add his own view of the situation, his tone rather honest and perhaps even blunt, which was something Matty was just entirely grateful for. "He could have said no. He didn't have to fuck you. He didn't have to look at you like he did. I mean... you did fuck up a bit, but it wasn't all you."

"I guess that doesn't matter though." Matty shook his head. "Gemma doesn't give two shits about him anymore. She cares so much about me. It just makes me feel like shit, because the other day I'd locked myself up in my room to avoid everyone because I didn't want to face her and the guilt of what I'd done, and that, and then she fucking climbs in through my kitchen window because she's worried about me. Then comes and sits with me all sympathetic and concerned, and it's just-"

"If she cares about you that much, if you mean that much to her, I don't think this one thing is going to ruin your friendship forever." George hoped he might be able to reassure Matty a little, but if he was being entirely honest with him, he really didn't know what he was talking about. "Then again, I don't know Gemma, so..."

"I need to tell her." Matty bit his lip, suddenly determined to do so. "I'd want her to tell me if she fucked a guy I'd been with." Matty did his best not to think about George in that situation. He really did try, it just didn't quite work out. "I just don't know how. I mean, do I just pop round and just tell her that I had her ex-boyfriend's dick up my ass-"

"Maybe don't be quite so blunt about it." George suggested, chuckling a little. "That really is one way to put it. Maybe just... sit her down, start with explaining why, don't go straight into it, tell her the whole story, you know? I mean, she's never going to love you for it, but you can try to make it go as smoothly as possible."

"Mmm..." Matty nodded, letting out a sigh. "I guess... yeah. I have to. I mean, it's going to kill me sooner or later and it's not like there's anyone else I can tell. Amber and Marika would both tell her. Even if I made them promise. Not that they're shit friends. Honestly, I think keeping that promise would make them shit friends, don't you think?"

George shrugged. "Depends, doesn't it?" He turned away, watching the sky for a moment as he let a few thoughts glaze over his mind. "So you're going to tell her?"

"Soon yeah." Matty nodded; deep down, he wasn't entirely sure as to just how well he might adhere to that promise.

"So, what else is it that's bothering you? You said it was lots of things, didn't you?" George continued, unable to stop his head from spinning around in circles, and somehow always landing back on Matty's own rather blunt description of him sleeping with Ryan. George couldn't quite explain that one to himself, it was just... something.

"Honestly..." Matty let out a sigh, moving so he was sat opposite George, forcing himself to hold eye contact. "My sexuality. And come on, I know you want to say something. You want to say a million things. You want to ask a million things. I can see it in your eyes. But it's okay. I'm going to let you."

"I didn't want to bring it up if you don't want to discuss it, I mean, no one goes round demanding the ins and outs of straight people's sexualities, so there's no reason why you should have to. But I can't help being curious, you know?" George inhaled deeply, leaving Matty to watch for a moment as smoke floated around him, drifting off into little clouds, as if they were not down on the ground, but indeed floating up in the skies themselves.

"Mmm..." Matty nodded, biting his lip. "I was surprised actually. Thought you'd pull out the whole generic, 'oh my god, are you gay?' speech, and pretend to be surprised, like even though I'm the most effeminate person you've ever seen. And then go off on the whole, 'I still accept you, it's okay to be gay' speech, like... you know... I don't already know, or care. Everyone knows that's just what straight people say as a default, because it makes them uncomfortable, they don't know what else to say. Coming out makes straight people uncomfortable. It does. They don't know how to deal with it, suddenly their best heterosexual bro likes it up the ass, and now they've got to deal with their own narcissistic ideas about the crush they obviously have on them, because obviously everyone attracted to men is attracted to every man, because that's so how it works."

Matty paused for a moment, taking in the look in George's eyes, doing all he could to place some sort of meaning behind it. "I was surprised, though."

"Didn't make me uncomfortable, I guess. It wasn't that the idea of you being gay didn't surprise me, like I always assumed it, because I didn't. It's just... not significant to me. Like... doesn't matter if you fucked your best friend's ex-boyfriend or ex-girlfriend, you've still got the same shit to deal with." George shrugged, watching the way Matty seemed to regard him a little differently, as if perhaps something he'd said had struck a chord with him.

"Are you even straight, because I-?" Matty cut himself off, his brain seeming to short circuit itself entirely at the mere possibility.

"I've not really thought extensively about my sexuality, I mean, I've not really found the need to, but I'm attracted to women. So yeah, I'm straight." George finished, leaving Matty to deal with just what that meant. Somehow, it didn't seem to mean just what he thought it should have. It didn't seem to affect him so much at all. "I've had two of my best friends come out to me before though. Years ago."

"Oh, alright. Were you uncomfortable then?" Matty asked, a little curious.

"No, I wouldn't say so. I just I didn't expect it really. Like, it was my first proper encounter with gay people. That sounds so fucked doesn't it, that I'd never really known a gay person until I was fifteen?"

Matty nodded in agreement. "Society's fucked, isn't it?"

"But honestly I'd say I'm more uncomfortable now. Now that they've been dating for a year and literally seem to be joined at the hip and I have to accidentally walk in on them making out on at least a weekly basis. But they're still some of my best friends, you know?" George smiled a little. "Honestly it's quite sweet, I'm just bitter and lonely."

Matty laughed, finding that he was somewhat unable to stop himself from warming up to George. He wasn't sure just what it was about him, but he had one of those faces, he was one of those people, that seemed to assure you that they'd listen and understand every word.

"They're here tonight, you know? You could meet them if you want, but I've got no idea where they've gone off to. Adam as well. Adam's my token straight friend." George grinned, his smile only widening as Matty rolled his eyes at him.

"I'd rather just..." Matty trailed off, biting his lip as he struggled to find the words. "It's not that I don't want to meet them. Just maybe not right now. I'm not in the mood to deal with people really, to going back in there, and you know, dealing with the world."

"Odd mood to decide to come to a party in." George commented, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah." Matty nodded in agreement. "Funny thing is Gemma threw this whole thing to try and make me feel better. When really I've been feeling so shit this week mainly because of what happened with Ryan. It's fucked, honestly."

"Oh-"

"I was alright earlier though." Matty added, somewhat in his own defence. "Things got a bit fucked though. Really, I'm in the state where I need to get drunk, like blackout drunk, but I can't do that to myself right now, especially with what happened last week. And honestly, I'm just terrified I'll get so drunk that I'll tell Gemma. That I'll tell her wrong, and properly fuck things up, you know?"

"Getting drunk isn't really going to get you anywhere regardless." George told him, raising his eyebrows as Matty gave little more than a shrug in response. "I hardly drink, alright, but... you know... it's not going to fix things for you. I think that's when people really fuck things up, when they use drink to fix things."

"Yeah. You're right." Matty nodded: desperate to convince himself that he was worlds away from that point. Although in reality, he was likely closer than he could ever fathom. "Sometimes I just really wish I wasn't myself. Like it's just these things... the fucking mess I've made of my life. I'm not really the epitome of good moral choices, I'll never be, but... it's just, you know, the things I wouldn't want my little brother to know about me."

Matty didn't give George enough chance to respond before he continued. "And I guess the solution is to just be a better person, but some of the things I'm so terrified of him knowing are just things I can't change. Like fuck, I really hate to think about it, and hate even more to admit it, but... I just... I'm really kind of terrified about him finding about like my sexuality and... yeah..." He let out a sigh. "It's not even like I've got a homophobic family or anything, it's just... I don't know what it is. I'm just so scared. I'm scared of everything really."

George met him with a careful look in his eyes. "Everything?" Matty nodded. "Are you scared of me?" He raised his eyebrows.

Matty thought for a moment, struggling to quite articulate the varying ideas from his brain. In the end, however, he came to one overbearing conclusion. "No."

George opened his mouth as if to respond, but Matty was just so terrified of what he might say to that. "Everyone else here though, yeah. I'm scared of going back inside, of having to force myself to just be. To be this person." He glanced down at himself with discontempt.

Matty took a moment to brace himself before continuing. "I'm scared to look out and see this crowd, to make out all these faces, and then to look at these... these beautiful girls with boyfriends sat beside them, seeming like they have all the love and not a single care in the world. You know, sometimes, I stare at girls like that for ages. In the coffeeshop sometimes. I stare at them and I struggle to figure out just what it is about them - whether I want to fuck them or be them."

George gave him a look an awful lot like he didn't have the slightest clue in the world as to just what he was supposed to say to that. It was okay though. Matty didn't really expect anything from him at all.

"But it's really not like I've looked at a girl and known I've wanted to fuck her in forever." Matty admitted, perhaps more to himself than George this time around. "I guess that..." He lowered his voice to a whisper. "Leaves the latter."

George met him with a look of genuine concern, his voice as soft and comforting as he could muster. "What do you mean?"

Matty simply shook his head however. "Not now, alright. Just... not right now."

And then they just sat together, smoking until the night grew far too cold to sit out through anymore.

-

The early morning was all too bright, seeping into the room with what almost seemed to be a sense of upset upon its tongue. It didn't take much to rouse Matty in the first place, and despite the early hour they'd sat up smoking until last night, he found his eyes flickering open to a bold six forty five displayed on the clock.

Matty let out a groan, forcing his eyes shut again as he buried his head back down into the pillow. He wasn't far from just drifting back off completely, but instead found himself hit by a sudden kind of jarring realisation. It was the realisation of the fact that he just couldn't quite recall exactly how he'd got to bed last night, to Gemma's spare room, and really just what had become of the evening.

He'd lost his senses some time earlier that morning, in too much smoke, and his heart poured out right into his cupped hands, held outstretched before him. As he lay there, face down on the bed in Gemma's spare room, he couldn't help but regret how he'd poured his heart out to George. There had been something therapeutic about it - something special, even. It did, however, do little to change the fact that by morning, he was still faced with the same worries, matched with a great ache that had spread throughout his body.

It was just as he rolled over in bed in a desperate attempt to get himself to drift off back to sleep, that his eyes grew wide, almost doing a double take as he laid his eyes upon George in bed next to him. And just like that, there were a good few minutes where Matty didn't breathe at all, coupled with a silence that seemed to span out for years.

Then suddenly, he found his outstretched fingers tapping gently against George's arm, met with a soft, almost apprehensive tone of voice. "George..." Matty's words seemed to just fizzle out amidst the silence.

Then again. "George..." And the tapping grew more frantic, desperate even, as Matty struggled to fill in the gaps for himself.

Despite his persistent efforts to get his attention, Matty practically jumped out of his skin the very moment that George filled did stir: letting out a groan and rolling onto his side, lazily rolling his eyes open to focus on Matty.

"Mmm... what?" He mumbled into the quiet of the room, his eyes never leaving Matty's, even with heavy lids desperate just to weigh them down.

"What... what happened last night?" Matty dared to ask, leaving George to think for a while. The moment that their current situation actually hit him could have been visible from a mile off; his eyes grew desperately wide, as if they were trying to take in the whole world around him, and he immediately sat up in bed, his gaze darting frantically around the room.

Matty hopelessly wanted to fill the silence, to break the tension somewhat, but really just couldn't bring himself to do so.

"We got stoned." George began, his voice slow and blatantly uncertain. "Out in the garden. And talked about things, about what had been bothering you, and we stayed out... late... until it was freezing, until you were practically huddled into my side for warmth, and then we had to go back inside. I think you took us up here to get some quiet away from everybody else."

"Alright..." Matty nodded, finding himself to not be entirely convinced by George's recollection of the truth, but really he had no better ideas. "Not to be..." He paused for a moment, encountering something that he reckoned he just really shouldn't mention aloud. He did so regardless. Because it was six forty five in the morning, he'd woken up in bed next to George Daniel, and his head was so very desperately all over the place.

"Be what?" George filled in the silence for him, raising his eyebrows as he met Matty with a certain sense of concern.

"Weird... about anything. To make anything weird, but look, can you just one hundred percent guarantee that you didn't fuck me- like not to make it weird or anything, because look, I need to know, and after I wake up in bed with someone after a night I can't really remember, it tends to have turned out to be so." Matty buried his face away in a blush, not even wanting to so much as glance across at George as he struggled to form a response.

"We didn't. Promise." George told him, his voice the kind of calm and unfazed that Matty would have never in a million years expected to hear.

"Okay." Matty nodded, doing all he could to hide the fact that he was just that little bit disappointed. "Thanks."

"I think we'd know." George offered, a smile slipping onto his lips as he glanced across at Matty. "I mean... not to make this weird or anything... but... for a start, you're so little, I think I honestly might just break you."

Matty forced a laugh, desperately trying to ignore the horrible things George's words had done to his insides. "You wouldn't break me." He rolled his eyes, forcing himself to his feet and across towards the window. "You could try. But like fuck would you break me." Matty scoffed, pushing the window open and letting in a gust of fresh air.

"I'm just saying..." George flushed a horrible shade of red. The kind that made him rather glad that Matty had turned his back to him. "You're quite little... and I'm... I'm quite... big..."

Matty snorted, reaching a hand out to steady himself against the wall.

"What?" George made an outcry: a desperate attempt to defend himself. "I am. I'm well over six feet tall."

"Regardless, I don't need to hear about your dick before it's even seven in the morning." Matty perched himself on the edge of the windowsill, meeting George with an absent-minded kind of smirk. "Or references to your dick, even."

"Fucking hell, I-" George shook his head in disbelief, burying his head out in his hands.

"And look, it's not like I haven't taken a big dick ever before in my life, is it?" Matty rolled his eyes across the room at George. "Honestly, what kind of person do you take me for?"

-

Somehow, a good half of the people who'd attended the party last night were still around come seven that morning, when George and Matty finally retreated from the cover of Gemma's spare room. They didn't however, glance a single person that didn't look either passed out or severely out of it, and really neither of them were particularly in much of a mood to deal with either hungover strangers or even their hungover friends.

There wasn't even anything in the kitchen. Matty had dragged George down in search of breakfast, and had frantically searched the cupboards for anything that was perhaps even kind of vaguely edible, but the best thing he came to show for himself was a particularly depressing looking box of Tesco value cornflakes.

Matty decided then that being completely sober when everyone around you was just worlds away was actually the worst thing in the world. It was in that moment, however, that he began to realise that he was just so very thankful for George. And for a moment, Matty stood in Gemma's kitchen and just looked at George, at this guy who'd sat through and listened to practically every trouble he could have possibly relayed to him, this guy he'd woken up with, but somehow hadn't slept with. This guy that was somehow more than that, somehow more than anything else that Matty had ever known. He stood there in Gemma's kitchen, and knew for certain, that if George could ever be attracted to him, George would more than certainly be way out of his league.

It was then that George met him with a warm kind of lazy smile, slipping his phone back into his pocket and giving Matty his full attention. "I'll take you out for breakfast, come on."

And then, for a good minute afterwards, Matty didn't breathe at all.

-

It wasn't exactly the height of luxury or sophistication, but it was seven o'clock on a Saturday morning, and the shitty little cafe on the end of the street meant the world to Matty. Really, if he was being entirely honest with himself, however, it had far more to do with the fact that it was George that had taken him there.

"I'm sorry about last night." The two had sat in relative silence after they'd gotten their breakfast, with George burying himself behind a large mug of black coffee for what had seemed an awful lot like forever. Eventually, however, it had been Matty that had broken the silence.

"Sorry?" George raised his eyebrows, placing his coffee back down on the table and meeting Matty with a curious glance.

"Yeah." Matty gave a nod, leaning back in his chair as he thought just how he might articulate the mess that had run back through his head. "I kind of dumped a load of shit on you with like no warning, and we hardly know each other. I mean, I feel like... I feel like I know you better now. I mean, we woke up in bed together... that's something. Even if it was just what it was, it's still something."

"Still something." George repeated, his voice softer than perhaps he'd even expected it to be. "I don't mind at all, Matty. You needed to get it off your chest."

"Everything's still a mess." He let out a sigh, resting his head against the palm of his hand, his elbow propped up on the table.

"Why?" George asked, not expecting Matty to really know the answer.

"I don't know. I guess... I guess it's mainly just what I didn't talk to you about." He shook his head, letting his drift off elsewhere, focusing instead out of the cafe window, to the world outside, to the slow beginning of the early morning.

"Why didn't you?" George bit his lip, noticing the change in Matty. He knew there was a limit to how much he could help, especially considering their circumstances, and the way, that really everything had already felt like it had happened to fast. Really, a part of him knew he shouldn't take some guy he barely knew out for breakfast, but Matty was sweet, and he was going through a hard time, and this was just the kind of thing that George reckoned he deserved.

Matty shrugged, words beginning to lodge in his throat. "I... I... there's just... I can't. I can't. With some things I just can't."

"That's okay." George assured him. "You don't have to tell me anything at all. I just wish I could help somehow, but I'm guessing that I can't."

"Not really no." Matty agreed, daring to meet George's gaze again, just for a quick second.

"I'm happy to listen to whatever you want to tell me, though. You know that, don't you?" He continued, watching as Matty met him with something he had never come to expect: surprise.

"Why?" Matty's tone was blunt, and very much all of a sudden. He leaned back in his chair and held George's gaze. "Why?" He repeated, quickly growing impatient.

"Because... I..." George stopped for a moment: really, Matty had a point. And for a good few seconds, he sat in that cafe without the slightest clue as to how and why they'd come down to this. "It's..."

"I get the feeling that you genuinely seem to care about me." Matty admitted, eyeing George curiously. "It's nice, but it's... I can't figure out why."

"I do." The words left George's lips before he could consider them for even a minute. "You seem a lot like you need someone to care about you. Someone to listen, you know?"

"What?" Matty raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "So I'm a charity case now?"

"No." George raised his voice rather suddenly. "No, Matty, come on. You know I didn't mean it like that. I care about you because I like you."

"You like me?" Matty rolled his eyes. "Well, that's good to know-"

"Matty." George leaned forward, curling his fingers around Matty's wrist. "Shut up a minute." He smiled, his words gentle and playful at best. Matty, however, flushed bright red: George's fingers around his wrist doing horrible things to his mind, bringing him right back to everything terrible he'd ever once thought about George.

And then the guilt for it all began to set in, because this Saturday morning, unlike every one before, he'd woken up and found George to be something rather like a friend.

"Uhh... yeah... sorry... I... yeah..." Matty stammered, pulling his hand away, burying his face desperately behind his mug of tea.

"Sorry..." George began, his voice tentative, uncertain, and just so very confused.

"Don't be." Matty forced a smile back onto his face, looking back up towards George. "Not your fault. I'm... I'm being a git. I'm really grateful that you care and that you listened. Honestly, George, it means the world. And taking me out like this. Honestly, did you even listen to me last night, like you do know I'm a terrible person right? I don't deserve this at all."

"But you do." George assured him, finding that perhaps, in regards to Matty, it was just the one thing that he could be sure of. "And you're not terrible. Not at all. Not in the slightest-"

"Don't lie to me." Matty bit his lip, shaking his head quickly.

"I'm not." George protested, holding Matty's gaze as he spoke: desperate to convey it as it was - the truth. "Honestly, Matty, I think... I think you're wonderful."

"I think..." Matty began, words turning dry in his mouth. "I think... you just..." He trailed off, words dissipating into the air around them, before he came to a rather sudden conclusion, the words finally beginning to sit right in not just his throat, but in his heart too. "I think you think too much of me."

George laughed: a genuine kind of happy laughter. "But still, Matty, I really do think you're wonderful."

And George's words touched Matty in a way that his grip on his wrist couldn't even begin to explain. It wasn't about the touch of fingertips, of patterns left both on his skin and his mind, it wasn't about private thoughts, and secrets he dared to think he might keep to the grave. It was about his words, and the meaning behind them that reached straight inside and touched the very core of his heart.

-

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