Matty didn't even bother sneaking back inside early that Sunday morning. She hadn't been home since Friday and she knew there was no avoiding that. To top it off, she was more than well aware of the questioning stares she'd receive that moment she did walk in - after all, she'd seen them all at least a thousand times before. By now, at the very least, she'd come to expect it.

Truthfully, she hadn't wanted to leave George's at all. Even with everything unspoken between them, she'd felt safe there, almost as if no one could really find and or bother her there. Like as if the time she spent up in George's room was time she spent being truly untouchable, where things like friendships and expectations and gender didn't matter at all anymore. Of course, that was hardly even close to being true, but Matty just liked to let herself believe that it was.

It was barely eight that morning by the time Matty arrived home. She'd ended up sneaking out of George's house half an hour earlier, finding that she'd wanted to avoid any kind of confrontation, and opted instead to leave George sleeping soundly on the sofa. He'd looked beautiful like that - peace and calm - a state that Matty didn't even dare to believe that she had the right to wake him from.

She'd at least scribbled a note for him, leaving it silently on the coffee table, but it was simple and brief, and just something she'd spent entirely too long looking at in a state of indecision: unable to figure out as to whether she should add kisses on the end of or not. She went for just one in the end, because fuck it, and Matty had never been one for making sensible decisions.

The very moment she stepped back inside that morning, Matty did half expect her mum to jump out at her with a full list of several hundred questions that she'd prepared over the course of the weekend. Nothing like that happened, however, and she just didn't go as far as to ponder being disappointed.

Instead, she milled around the kitchen for a little while: fixing herself a cup of tea, and taking a moment to stare at her rather gormless reflection in the vaguely reflective aluminum body of the kettle. Her hair was almost tragically messy and it really did seem like half of it had fallen out of the bun she'd previously tied it back into. However, it really was nothing in comparison to the great looming dark circles under her eyes, and what almost seemed to be a permanent redness to her cheeks.

Really, Matty did wonder if she'd ever cried so much in a forty eight hour period. It had been quite the weekend, and it really didn't help to know that it just wasn't even over yet, as she couldn't quite comprehend what else the world could possibly have left to throw at her.

Part of her felt as if it had all been so very pointless, well, perhaps not pointless but fruitless, as if it had all just wound up to nothing at all. It seemed that over the past two days she'd gone through anything and everything she'd never imagined possible, but here she stood, back in her kitchen again, like Friday morning all over again. She wondered if she might have found some comfort in that, but it was just far from the case; as whatever she felt or knew, she would always stand inside these walls as her mother's son, as a brother, as the same desperately confused and unhappy person she'd been a few days prior. And Matty didn't see any real escape from that.

Matty did wonder if she'd even gotten any better through this all. Sure, she had answers, but everything was still shit. She was still unhappy with herself and her life, and now, she'd gone and ruined her friendship with Gemma, and consequently her friendships with Amber and Marika too. And that was all just so much to desperately try not to think about as she poured hot water from the kettle into the mug that she'd set down on the side.

It was as she did this that the house began to stir, and tentative, curious footsteps appeared behind her, coming to a stop in the doorway, peeking through the door and into the room, at Matty, and at quite the sight she made for eight on a Sunday morning.

Matty caught her brother's reflection in the dusty aluminium of the kettle: her heart stopping her chest as she spun around to face him. Louis met her with a wary kind of sympathetic smile that Matty couldn't quite place the intent behind. She could only wonder just what he could possibly be doing awake this early on a Sunday.

She did also take a moment to really assess just why she was also awake so early on a Sunday, and really, she wished she wasn't: she wished she was still back at George's, with her head in his lap, to worry about what that could mean so much later, and instead just to smoke and talk away the whole day, to lose herself in his arms: all morning and all afternoon. But she'd had to go home eventually. Everything came down to eventuality, after all.

Matty turned back to her mug of tea, stirring it much more than was entirely necessary, as she let the silence crumble around them, waiting for Louis to ask her just where she'd been. She wasn't stupid enough to think that he hadn't been curious - worried, even. Yet somehow, despite how much she did care for her brother, she found that it just didn't much matter to her at all. She thought briefly about how that made her a bad sister, but found herself unable to focus anywhere near as much on the word 'bad' than she did on the word 'sister'.

"Are you okay?" Louis didn't begin anywhere near Matty had expected him to. Truthfully, he'd been waiting for Matty to begin, even to yell at him, or to tell him to leave her alone, as really, he felt so awfully out of his depth without even the slightest clue to what it was that was really going on in Matty's life. She didn't talk about things, not like she should do, and Louis was so well aware of that.

Matty thought for a moment: finding herself rather taken aback by the genuine concern evident in his voice. She set her mug of tea down on the counter beside her, and found the courage to properly face her brother, still with very little idea of just what it was that she was possibly supposed to say.

"Not really, no." Matty let out a sigh, watching as her words really began to sink in. She wondered if she should have lied to him in the hopes that it would take it off his mind, because maybe that was just the sort of way you were supposed to act around your thirteen year old brother. But Matty knew Louis, and she knew that Louis was smart, and that he'd already figured out the half of it.

"Do you want to talk about why?" Louis was perhaps twice as tentative as he had been before, taking a careful step towards Matty, who did her best to meet him with a reassuring kind of smile. Despite everything else, he was still her brother, after all.

"Not really, no." She gave way to a smile, watching as Louis gave a vague sort of nod in response. "Well, really... if I'm being entirely honest. I kind of want to, sort of maybe like fifty-fifty. There are a lot of reasons why I should, but I'm scared, and yeah okay, there's maybe a lot I need to get off my chest, because like... I've been... I've not been home in two days, and that's... a... thing, and yeah, I'm eighteen now, but still... that's a thing... and things have happened, and everything is messing with my head, and really I'd love to talk about it, especially to someone completely unbiased and uninvolved in everything."

"Then do...?" Louis watched her curiously, unsure as to just what had posed itself as the problem here.

Matty met him with a smile. "Not really the kind of things I should be talking to my little brother about, though. Not the kind of things you should have to think about for a start, and then stuff mum would kill me for like talking to you about. It's... very adult... I guess."

"How can it be very adult?" Louis scoffed, his eyebrows raised. "You turned eighteen like six months ago. You're barely adult yourself."

Matty snorted. "Yeah. You're right. Maybe that's why I'm struggling with it - too adult for me."

Louis shrugged, unable to avoid being irritated by the fact that Matty, of all people, had decided that he was too immature for this. "So what is it like? All this adult stuff? Like... what... sex and stuff?"

He looked up at Matty, a hint of anxiety hidden amidst his gaze. Louis did know that there wasn't a chance in hell that Matty would actually mention anything to their mum about this, but still, he was unsure as to quite how she'd react. And a part of him was just so desperate to prove that he wasn't nearly so immature at all.

Matty rolled her eyes, leaning back against the kitchen wall and meeting her brother with a sigh. "Yeah, like sex and stuff." Because really, he wasn't entirely wrong.

"So what?" Louis played with the idea of just how far he could push it. "You like... had sex with someone... and that's a problem somehow... because... you didn't get someone pregnant, did you?" His eyes grew horribly wide at the sudden notion.

Matty choked on thin air, wondering if Louis had somehow forgotten that it was still just eight in the morning - far too early for all of this - and also that she hadn't wanted to talk about it in the first place. Then, there was the matter that his suggestion was just entirely preposterous, perhaps even to the point where Matty could have considered it comical.

"Trust me." Matty picked up her mug of tea, using it more as just something to do with her hands in the place of anything else. "That's not going to happen."

Louis met her with an odd kind of look, like he'd somehow managed to pick up on the true meaning behind Matty's remark, like he was somehow still more intuitive than Matty could have ever accounted for.

"Alright." He gave a nod, thinking for a moment. "So you had sex with someone and you regret it or something?"

"Yeah." Matty let out a sigh. "Something like that."

"Why?" Louis continued to ask. "Why did you regret it? Was it bad?"

"Louis." Matty's eyes grew wide, grimacing at the sudden realisation that she was genuinely just talking to her younger brother about sex. "I'm not- I... I'm not talking about it, alright?"

"Alright..." Louis raised his eyebrows: evidently disappointed. "You should talk to someone, though. You're not going to talk to mum or dad, or me, so you're... you should talk to one of your friends. Maybe even the one you had sex with."

"Trust me, Louis, h-" Matty's words grew dry in her mouth, her throat closing in around the word 'he' as she came to a very sudden realisation. "Uhh... not my friend." She finished, deciding to avoid the use of pronouns entirely.

"Just talk to someone." Louis met her with a hopeful kind of smile. "I want you to be happy again. Like you used to be. You've been so off lately, and it's been... it's been horrible, really."

"I'm sorry, fu-... no... I... I'm sorry." Matty choked out, groaning in disbelief. "I'm terrible. Honestly terrible. I just... you deserve better than me."

"It's not your fault." Louis told her rather plainly, finding that his concern for Matty only seemed to grow.

"Yeah. Alright." Matty decided just to agree: for simplicity's sake.

"Talk to someone though, please." Louis looked up at her with all the concern and trust in the world. And Matty looked down at her little brother, at the person who still thought the world of her, who hadn't heard of a single real wrong she'd done, and felt so very horribly guilty.

The truth just made her feel sick.

And she'd never wanted to have to lie to her brother, but here she was, at eight fifteen that morning, with a dark, physical sickness to her eyes, and the words slipping her lips before she could stop herself.

"Course. Promise you. I need to, don't I?"

And she met Louis with a smile: just wide and realistic enough for him to believe.

Although the truth made her feel sick, it quickly became apparent that the alternative was just so much worse. As she stood there that Sunday morning, very much lost without any sort of sense for just who the fuck she was anymore.

For there was a great part of herself that she'd lost somewhere amidst this all: abandoned on someone's doorstep, or up in someone's sheets, left in a secret she'd hidden away in the darkness, or a promise broken and smashed out into a million pieces. She'd lost it out in the golden lights, in the lazy afternoons, and the smiles she'd never deserved. She'd lost it in beautiful girls at parties, and in watching them for hours, she'd lost everything too.

-

Matty was always sort of vaguely aware of the fact that what she was doing just wasn't the best idea in any sort of regard, but still, it didn't at all prevent her from doing it: from moping around her room all day, from avoiding conversation, and even eye contact with anyone and everyone. She'd even left her phone abandoned at the other side of her room - simply letting the texts and missed calls pile up. As blocking herself off from all of reality just had to be one of her most treasured bad habits.

She let herself wonder what it would take this time around. What it would take to break her out of it all. Especially as it didn't much seem like Gemma was going to come and break into her house just to talk to her this time around. And maybe Matty was just so very intrigued to see how far she could take this - just what people could let her get away with before it was all deemed too much, and everything all went wrong. She wanted to let herself fuck it all up this time, perhaps just for the power in that, and the freedom that ultimately came with it.

She reckoned in the end she'd have to find something to fix herself, to fix it - this hole that she'd made inside of herself; she'd need something to replace what she'd lost. And Matty had made so many promises over the course of her life, but ultimately, it really did seem like none of them did actually mean a thing.

In the end, she found herself doing what she did best. She found herself looking at boys. At every single one of them. And thinking the world. Making gods out of men from behind a counter at a simple nine to five. She told herself that it was enough, and she let herself believe it. After all, Matty wasn't getting anywhere in life as an emotionally fucked up, gender confused, barista with chipped nail polish and eye bags darker than hell itself. And she knew that.

There was perhaps even some comfort in it. In routine. In making cups of coffee. And smiling at every single plain, boring boy that stepped inside. She found safety in that. Like it was a world in which she didn't really have to exist: not fully, not as herself, just as skin and bones, as fingers and smiles, and the same repeated conversation for hours and hours.

It got to about two p.m. on Thursday before Matty started to seriously wonder if she was depressed. It got to about three p.m. before she started to seriously wonder just what that really did mean. What there was that she could possibly do about it. Especially when all she did seem to do was fuck things up.

In the end she concluded that it had just been a bad week - nothing less, nothing more, and maybe George had been right - maybe Gemma would speak to her again. And maybe George would too. Maybe that was hope that she could fix everything, even with the mess she'd made of it all.

That hope came in the early evening light, as she finally made it out into the street after her shift had finished. It had been a particularly trying day and she was more than relieved to wash it all away with a cigarette out back, and the peace and time it gave her to think.

Though if Matty had been entirely honest with herself - all she'd done all day was think. Perhaps she was even ready to talk, to do something, to do anything, to make any kind of sense out everything that she could.

She just hadn't quite expected opportunity to present itself all so soon, as her solitude soon faded away to the sound of footsteps, and a familiar smile offered through the lowlight.

"Alright if I bum a smoke?" She met Matty with a casual look, as if nothing had happened at all, as if she was entirely separate from all of this mess, which Matty, of course, knew just wasn't true.

Still, Matty obliged, offering the packet across to her.

Matty watched as she lit her cigarette, putting it to her lips and inhaling so very deeply before she finally found it within herself to speak: daring to address Matty with the reality of the situation.

"You know everyone's worried about you?"

"Oh fuck off, Amber." Matty rolled her eyes, not really meaning a word. If she was being just entirely honest with herself she'd never been quite so grateful in life. Just to see someone, someone who wasn't Gemma or George, or her family, and could look her right in the eye. Matty'd needed that.

"Do you really, honestly think that Gemma ever gave one single fuck about Ryan?" Amber's eyes widened in disbelief as she watched Matty consider the possibility. "Honestly?"

Matty shrugged. It was the best she could do.

"You honestly thought that she'd care more about some guy that she fucked about with for a bit, over her best friend for like the past five years?" Amber shook her head in disbelief. "Not to sound harsh or anything, but you really are an idiot, Matty."

"Thanks." Matty gritted her teeth. Part of her could have yelled at Amber for that, but more than anything else, she knew that Amber was right.

"She thinks you hate her now." Amber supplied, continuing to explain the situation, regardless of whether Matty really wanted her to or not. "And really I've spent the last few days trying to tell her that you don't. But... I don't know, do I? You've not spoken to anyone since the weekend. I've even been round asking people, like everyone you know. And so's George. He's worried about you too. He thinks he's done something as well. You really should talk to him."

"I don't hate her. I don't hate anyone. Well, I do hate some people. I hate Ryan and I hate myself. And I like to think I hate my family sometimes, but I don't, I just... I feel stuck. I feel stuck with everything. And I'm not ignoring anyone because I hate them. I'm just scared. I think maybe it'd be easier if I just didn't have to talk to people. If I didn't have to explain, because I'll have to explain, and Amber, fuck, I'm- I'm scared."

"We're all scared. We're human. Fear is who we are." Amber added, hiding her words away amidst a cloud of smoke.

"Doesn't matter though, does it? I don't give a fuck if you think it's normal that I'm fucked up in the head and terrified, and desperate to isolate myself away from everyone and everything. I still am, and I-... I still fucked up, and people are still... I... I've dug myself a fucking hole, Amber, that's what I've fucking done, and honestly, it might just be easier to stay at the bottom."

"Still doesn't mean you should." Amber watched Matty carefully for a moment. "And I really don't think getting out is anywhere near as hard as you think. It's... it's getting started that's the hardest part, and then, it's never nearly as bad as you think."

Matty shrugged: unsure as to just how much of what Amber had to say she really did believe.

"It's just... there's this thing. This unavoidable, fucking thing, that's fucked me up beyond belief. And it's like... like I have to tell people, because I can't deal with it if I don't, but then I also can't deal with telling people in the first place. Maybe I just want people to know. To just know. To just make it obvious. But I'm not brave enough to do that. Not properly at least." Matty let out a sigh, meeting Amber with a desperate kind of pleading look in her eyes. "I wish you knew. I think you'd know what to say."

"Matty... I..." Amber hesitated: wondering if she should really continue, as after all, she had been specifically told not to. "I think I do."

"What?" Matty's eyes grew impossibly wide.

"Gemma... she... didn't mean to... but she just, you know... let it slip. She knows she shouldn't have- you should... it should be you that gets to tell people about things like that, but... she didn't mean to... and it's... fine. It's so fine. It's okay. It's... I'm glad. I'm glad you figured it out."

"Oh..." Matty's words grew dry in her throat. "I'm not. Not glad, I mean. I think being confused was easier to deal with. Easier to deal with than spending nights up in tears because my mum called me her son. Because that's what I am in her eyes. That's what I always was. Maybe that's what I always will be, unless I talk about things. And I can't, because I'm... I'm fucking scared... and I'm fucking... fuck, Amber, I still don't even know if this is really right, I just. I don't even know if it feels better than before. I don't know if I'm ever even going to be happy. I don't even know if it's gender. I think maybe it's just me. I think it's just everything. And I don't know what to do with myself at all. I'll never be anyone's daughter, I'll never be anyone's sister, I'll never be anyone's girlfriend, I-"

"Matty, fuck, I-"

"And I don't think I can go home again. I can't deal with... I can't deal with them. Because I can't tell them, I just-... fuck, what am I even supposed to do, I-" Matty finished her cigarette, putting it out with the heel of her shoe. "Fuck." She looked down at it longingly: wishing for another, wishing to stay smoking in the back alley forever, at for at least the whole night through. But she of course knew that could never be a good idea.

"Come to Gem's." Amber offered tentatively, meeting Matty with a pleading look in her eyes. "Please. She wants to see you again. She wants to talk to you. Marika does too."

"Only if she'll let me get pissed." Matty let out a sigh. "Like fuck am I dealing with this sober."

"Because getting drunk's going to make it any easier?" Amber raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

"For the moment, yeah." Matty concluded, forever with so little concern for the future. "Now, are we going or what? It's fucking freezing out here?"

-

Despite the almost nonchalance to her demeanour, Matty was practically shitting herself. It had taken them no longer than fifteen minutes to make it to Gemma's, and Matty had almost wanted it to span out for at least half an hour - just to avoid the inevitable, to avoid the look in her eyes, and to avoid the conversation. The things they had to talk about. Because there was so much more to it than vague confessions made in the back alley of a coffeeshop, and there was no avoiding that.

Matty met Gemma's eyes the very moment she made it inside, finding that time really did seem to freeze around them, even if only just for a few moments.

"Matty..." Gemma pushed past Amber almost at a run towards Matty, as if she'd just never been expecting to see her again. She did, however come to halt in front of her - it was an awfully abrupt gesture - as if she'd intended to pull her into a hug, but now she just wasn't so sure. She didn't know if she could do that anymore.

"I..." Matty let out a sigh, letting her gaze fall to the floor as she very immediately felt all eyes on her. She felt as if there was some sort of expectation that she might say something. Something that fixed it all, but Matty had nothing on her mind at all. She just desperately wanted things to go back to normal. Whatever normal was anymore. She just wanted to be happy, and she was pretty sure she had been - once.

"Fuck." Gemma came to a very sudden conclusion, deciding that maybe everything else just didn't matter much at all, and pulled Matty into a hug regardless. "I'm sorry." She whispered into her shoulder, leaving Matty to wonder just what she could really need to apologise for.

"I fucked-" Matty began, but Gemma just didn't quite let her get that far.

"You didn't fuck anything up." Gemma's response was rather conclusive, as she met Matty with a stern look, finally pulling away from her.

Matty let a small smile grace her lips. "That... yeah... I fucked Ryan, though, didn't I?"

"He fucked you." Gemma added, like it somehow made any difference.

"Yeah..." Matty trailed off. "We fucked."

"Matty, come on, don't look so glum, I'm sure as fuck not letting some random guy's dick ruin our friendship." Gemma rolled her eyes rather nonchalantly, offering Matty a smile before she turned away, wandering off into the kitchen, leaving the other three girls to follow her.

"That was... somehow easier than I expected." Marika couldn't help but comment, watching Gemma curiously as she rummaged around through the cupboards.

"Yeah." Matty couldn't help but agree. "But she's... Gem's right. Okay, so we both got the same dick, but like... neither of us want it again, neither of us fucking like him. It wasn't even good sex, like-"

"Exactly." Gemma added from across the room. "I don't see why that has the right to ruin our friendship. Because honestly, Matty, you really do need looking after sometimes, you just don't know what to do with yourself, do you?"

Matty perhaps thought about being offended by that, but realistically Gemma was probably just about right.

-

The four girls found themselves up in Gemma's room just ten minutes later, with red wine in Gemma's mum's posh fancy glasses that they never should have touched in a million years, but Gemma had declared this a special occasion and had thought fuck it. They'd spent a good seven of those ten minutes looking around the kitchen in search of some suitably fancy nibbles to go with the wine, but in the end, had found very little more than a bag of croutons and some rich tea biscuits. They'd gone for the biscuits in the end.

"So..." Matty began, opening the pack of biscuits, stretched out across Gemma's bed. "I'm a girl." She found herself saying it just because she could, because there was something freeing about that, and she so very desperately needed to feel alive somehow.

"Yeah." Gemma nodded across at her. "You are."

"And that's... that's okay. It doesn't feel entirely okay. But I think maybe things are starting to get better." Matty bit her lip, hating the part of her that wondered if she still hadn't quite figured it all out.

"Because you don't want to come out to your family?" Amber thought back to their earlier conversation that evening - the one that had taken place outside of the coffeeshop, when everything had come together.

"Not that I don't want to. I just... I don't think I can." She let out a nervous kind of laugh, doing her best to cover just what lay beneath it. "I don't think I can." She repeated, hating what that really did mean.

"You don't have to." Marika watched her carefully for a moment. "You don't have to come out to anyone."

"Still, I should. Shouldn't I?" Matty sat up, trying to imagine just what would happen if she sat her parents down and possibly tried to convey this great fucking mess. And what would happen if she walked into Louis' room one day, and when he asked her what was going on, she actually told him the truth.

"I don't know." Marika continued, trying her best to get any sort of grasp on the situation that she could, but truth be told, she didn't know awfully much about Matty's parents at all. "That's up to you to decide, isn't it?"

Matty just wished she was really in the position to make any kind of decision at all. "And then there's George." She rolled over onto her back and just stared up at the ceiling for a while.

"He's been asking about you all week." Amber reminded her. Matty remained silent.

"Yeah. Worried about you." Marika added, glancing across at Amber, in the hopes that she'd give her something more to say.

Still, Matty remained silent.

"You really should call him." Gemma came to offer her advice in time, even if she felt it severely underqualified. "Even if you're not going to come out to him. Just call him to let him know you're okay. That you don't hate him."

"Yeah..." Marika nodded, growing more concerned by the second. "I think he really does think you hate him. And I've tried to tell him that's not true, but it's not that he doesn't believe me, it's just like... like he just can't convince himself of it."

"You don't hate him, do you?" Gemma watched Matty carefully, wondering if there was something they'd somehow missed. "Nothing's happened, has-"

"Fuck, no, Gem." Matty finally broke her silence, but still didn't quite have it within her to pull her gaze away from the ceiling.

"Good, I don't even know what I'd say if you did hate him-" Amber continued as if this was some sort of great reassurance or comfort, even, but Matty just didn't see it in that way at all.

"I don't hate him... fuck... I..." Matty let out a groan. "I think I love him. Maybe even properly."

"Oh..." Gemma's eyes grew stupidly wide. "That's-"

"Fucked, yeah." Matty finished for her. "I know. Like there's no fucking reason I should be, but I... I just... I don't know if I can just... face him anymore."

"Talk to him." Amber supplied, as if it was all just that easy. "Maybe not even about this, maybe about this. Maybe explain, because he's George, and he's the most understanding person I've ever met, and you know that's true."

"What?" Matty pulled herself up rather quickly. "Just... fucking... pop up there like 'Hey George, how you doing? That's nice. Hey so, I think I'm in love with you'. Like fuck is that going to work? What would he even say-"

"Matty, I really don't think you've quite cracked the idea that there's really a wrong and right way to tell people things." Gemma watched her carefully, finding that she was so very conscious of the fact that Matty could snap at just about any minute and then they'd have that to deal with too. "Like, you know when you literally just told me that you and Ryan fucked... like out of nowhere."

"Yeah, I mean, maybe start... with like... just don't tell him you're in love with him, or whatever." Marika thought for a moment, considering as to just whether Matty really was in love with George or whether she was just over exaggerating as usual. "Just tell him you have a crush. Or you think he's cute."

"Because yeah, that's going to go so fucking well, isn't it?" Matty was just about ready to scream at them, but opted for a biscuit instead, trying her very best to keep herself composed. "He's straight."

"And... you're a girl...?" Gemma just looked at Matty for a moment.

"He doesn't know that." Matty reminded her, downing half her glass of wine just to prepare herself for the inevitable response, which was just exactly what Matty didn't want to hear. "Unless you've accidentally told him as well."

"Matty." Gemma let out a sigh, looking up at her almost desperately. It had truly been an accident, after all.

Matty shrugged. "Sorry. I'm not... it's alright. You haven't though, have you?" Gemma shook her head.

"You know George will accept you-" Amber tried to add in her own advice, but Matty didn't even have it within herself to let her finish.

"Yeah, because it doesn't sound dodgy if I just turn up like 'Hey George. So, I'm a girl. Cool? Thanks. Alright. So you're straight, yeah? You like girls. By the way I have this massive crush on you. And I'm a girl now.'" Matty sat there for a moment, wondering if she had allowed herself to somewhat base her gender on George. She was pretty sure she hadn't, but suddenly she just wasn't quite so sure.

"Maybe don't... maybe don't tell him both of those things within the space of ten seconds." Marika suggested, glancing across at Gemma, as she found herself wondering if they could possibly end up getting anywhere with this at all.

"Or maybe I shouldn't tell him anything." Matty concluded, stretching her arms out behind her as she fell back onto Gemma's bed. "Might be easier like that. I wish it was like that. I wish... I wish I didn't have these fucking feelings, at all, you know? Because... with Ryan... I just turned up in makeup... I didn't quite look like a girl, but I didn't quite look like a guy either, and that was just that. And we fucked. And that was easy."

"So you just want George to fuck you...?" Gemma wasn't quite managing to keep up.

"No-"

"To be fair." Gemma continued, unable to stop a smirk from tugging at the corners of her lips. "He's got to have a big dick though, hasn't he? With how tall he is. You'd think it'd be in proportion, wouldn't you?"

"Gemma." Amber's eyes grew wide in disbelief.

"Come on." Gemma burst into a grin. "You've got to admit it I've got a point."

"Literally don't, alright?" Matty stumbled to her feet. "I don't need to think about that, because yeah, I'd quite like to just hop on George's dick, but as we've established, things just aren't quite that simple. Because I'm... I think... I... I want to be his girlfriend." She paused for a moment. "Or someone's girlfriend, at least. I want to be... I want... I need... I need someone to love me like this... I need... someone to want me like this. I... just... I've got this fucking dick. And I don't hate my dick. I just hate what it means."

"You've got to tell him." Marika concluded, as Amber sat there just trying to get over Matty's so nonchalant allusion to riding George's dick. "About your gender. I think."

"I don't think I physically could." Matty admitted, finding it within herself to sit back down again. This time, ending up curled up next to Gemma on the floor, clinging desperately to her for any kind of emotional support.

"Then don't say it." Gemma suggested, thinking for a moment. "Just... turn up... as you feel comfortable, you know, looking like a girl... and... be like... this is me... deal with that."

As much as Matty did hate to admit it, she did quite like the sound of that. There was, however, the matter of her stomach jumping around inside of her at the mere mention of looking like a girl, of having the courage to be herself properly. She had a clear idea of what that entailed, but she was just so very scared that Gemma wasn't quite on the same wavelength at all. But then again, was there anything that didn't scare Matty even just a little bit?

-

"This is me..." Matty repeated the words had lodged in her mind from yesterday evening. She faced herself in the mirror after what had been a somewhat arduous morning and let out a sigh, finding perhaps that for once it was formed somewhat like a sigh of relief.

"Yeah." Gemma assured her, meeting her reflection in the mirror. "It is."

Matty nodded slowly, as if she still wasn't entirely convinced by it, but was just trying her best. Gemma continued to admire her handiwork as Amber peaked in through the crack left between Gemma's bedroom door and its frame. Gemma had sent the both of them off downstairs in search of something particularly special, as she'd spent the last half an hour or so doing Matty's makeup, now for the second time. She couldn't help but hope that this time around that Matty might just have the courage to keep it on a while longer.

"That's... yeah..." Matty turned back to her reflection and just stared herself down for a good minute. "Yeah..."

"Uh..." Amber lodged herself awkwardly between the door and the door frame, peering into the room in search of Gemma, but found that had gaze had stopped at Matty along the way and she'd gotten stuck upon her reflection in the mirror. "Fuck... wow..." Her eyes grew wide as she did her best to take in Matty's appearance from across the room.

Matty blushed a shade of red as vibrant almost as her lipstick. "Hey..." She met Amber's gaze in the mirror, as if she was just terrified to leave her reflection for even a moment, as if she really did fear that it would all just fade away the very moment she took her eyes off herself.

"You look... amazing." Amber continued to watch Matty in astonishment. Really, she hadn't reckoned that Gemma was quite that good with makeup at all, or just that Matty looked quite so good with makeup on in the first place.

"T-thank you." Matty blushed, long dark lashes hugging her cheeks as her eyelids flickered shut, revealing thick black eyeliner wings, as she did all she could to hide herself away from the look of wonder in Amber's eyes.

"We can't find them." Amber finally turned to Gemma, finding herself landing on the point that had brought her upstairs in the first place. "Don't look at me like that, Gem, we have looked. We've spent half an hour looking."

"It's not like they've vanished-" Gemma met Amber with an uneasy stare; she didn't doubt her friend's ability and competence in finding a pair of shoes that she'd lumped somewhere downstairs, but she suddenly found this resting on a lot. As it was for Matty, after all.

"What?" Matty finally composed herself enough to catch a proper drift of the conversation between Amber and Gemma. "What's vanished?"

"Nothing." Gemma assured her.

"The shoes." Amber met her with a smirk, leaving Gemma's eyes to grow open wide.

"What shoes-"

"Don't tell her about the fucking shoes-" Gemma had so very desperately wanted this all to be a surprise.

"They're shoes." Amber supplied, rolling her eyes a little. "And we can't find them anyway. So you've probably got rid of them-"

"No." Gemma insisted, as if there was one thing she was certain of - it had to be this. "I've got them. I know that. I even thought about giving them to Matty, like ever since she first started talking about gender." She turned across at Matty, who was perhaps growing more confused by the minute. "They're nice shoes. They're too big for me though."

"Oh... um..." Matty didn't quite know what to think, or as to why Gemma was suddenly so desperate to dump all of her old and oversized items of clothing off onto her. Still, she found herself so incredibly grateful for it, from the pile of clothes Gemma had set out onto her bed, to the shoes that she just might have lost somewhere along the way.

It was just as Gemma was about to give up all hope, however, that Marika made it through the door, a pair of black high heeled boots in hand. Matty's eyes grew outrageously wide.

"I found them." She announced, throwing the shoes down onto the carpet in the middle of the room.

Marika grinned across at her girlfriend. "You're just a shit finder." She looked entirely too pleased with herself, and Matty might have just laughed, if it wasn't for the assumption that she'd be able to walk in those shoes at all.

"This was supposed to be a surprise." Gemma added in Matty's direction, wandering across towards her and offering her the best kind of comforting smile she could muster.

"Thanks." Matty let out a sigh, turning back to the pile of clothes Gemma had offered her earlier. "Do you really think me... just... turning up to George's in a pair of heels and skirt is really... a great idea?"

"Well, I mean... it gets the message across." Gemma grinned, hoping it might give Matty a little confidence boost somehow.

"Yeah." Matty let out a sigh. "Lipstick does too. I'd feel a bit awkward in a skirt, though, like... I mean... obviously, I have a dick, and that's... a bit like... your dick's just hanging out."

"Well, hopefully, it won't be." Gemma eyed her carefully. "Don't shove your dick into George's face the first moment you get there, alright?" She didn't wait for Matty to offer her any kind of response before she began to rummage around through the pile of clothes. "I'm thinking this skirt. But you can just wear jeans if you want, really-"

Matty reached for the skirt. Her eyes widened. "A black leather miniskirt?" She looked up at Gemma.

"A reject from my emo phase." Gemma provided as explanation, leaving Matty to feel so very honoured that Gemma had honoured her enough to pass on all of her old 'emo' clothing onto her.

"And then this top." She reached for a seemingly ordinary patterned grey t-shirt, pushing it into Matty's arms before she could argue otherwise. "Tucked into the skirt. And then a jacket probably. Yeah. Your denim jacket's probably fine, though." She then turned her attention to the shoes Marika had dumped onto the floor.

"And those too?" Matty raised her eyebrows.

"You don't have to. I just, I think it'd look good." Gemma explained, taking just a moment to wonder just what George really was supposed to say when Matty turned up on his doorstep dressed like this, but Matty seemed to be confident in the idea for once, and that was just more than enough for Gemma.

"Yeah. Fuck it. Makes a statement. Doesn't it?" Matty flashed her a lazy grin and took the clothes into the bathroom.

Gemma, Amber, and Marika had taken to finishing the pack of biscuits from last night as they waited for Matty to return. And really, it felt an awful lot like they'd been sat there for years, but it had hardly been five minutes before Matty tentatively pushed Gemma's bedroom door open again.

"Fuck..." Gemma's jaw dropped as she took in Matty's appearance, and how this had so very overwhelmingly been a fantastic decision.

Amber and Marika turned in unison, both greeting Matty with what seemed to be the exact same facial expression. And really, from what Matty could tell, it was good.

And then she met her own reflection in Gemma's bedroom mirror, and her heart soared so high up through her chest that she thought she might choke on it.

But that never really happened until she made it to George's doorstep.

As suddenly that Friday afternoon, Matty found herself just seconds away from George, just a doorway away from the truth of everything, stood there - skirt, lipstick, heels, and all, and choking, but really not on what she might have liked to in relation to George.

Not that standing out on George's porch and thinking about his dick had ever been one of Matty's brightest ideas. Especially not in what she might have called the world's tightest of skirts. Really, though, Matty didn't quite know what she should have really felt in relation to the fact that all of Gemma's clothes seemed to fit her perfectly.

Matty found herself out there for a good ten minutes, focusing momentarily on George's dick, and then just on George in general, and then perhaps on just what would happen if she happened to end up sucking George's dick like this. She reckoned she'd make quite the mess considering the lipstick, but then again, blowjobs had never exactly been the most clean of activities. She wasn't even sure if she could kneel down in this skirt at all.

She then took a moment to mourn the fact that, as probability did seem to state, she wouldn't end up sucking George's dick that night, or any night really, or perhaps ever. And maybe she should think about more than just George's dick, and she should consider George as a person instead.

It was then that the most radical of notions finally struck Matty, and as she stood out there on George's porch, she began to wonder if it was really so much about George at all, or whether it was just about anyone. Because George wasn't the only person with a dick in the world. George wasn't even the only person with a particularly nice dick. Matty then wondered to herself if she could just go and suck a dick if she so wanted to, right then.

She looked down at herself and let her mind wonder. And then the worst part of her mind started up again - the one that very quickly decided that going out and sucking some guy's dick was just a much more preferable and easier way to deal with things, as opposed to finally ringing that doorbell and letting George deal with everything.

Because maybe, just maybe one day in the future, George would let Matty suck his dick. But that wasn't everything. Maybe it was just nothing at all. Maybe it would never even happen, and she couldn't rest everything on it like that, on the idea that George might love her. As it wasn't exactly about sucking dick, it was just the illusion of love, the idea of someone thinking she was pretty enough to let her do that.

Matty put what her friends might think to the back of her mind, discarded all promises, and stepped off George's porch, and out into the street. Instead she focused on the part of herself she'd managed to lose over the past few weeks, and as she turned off the end of the street, she set her mind to finding it, trusting her feet to take her just wherever she might need to go.

-

Matty wondered if she just might always end up there in the end. Under neon lights, under every single gaze in the room, and at the seat at the end of the bar. The very same barman gave her the very same questioning look. But this time around, Matty gave him a very different smile. As she suddenly found herself almost sick with confidence: skirt, lipstick, heels, and all.

She knew very well that Gemma would just about kill her if she ever found out that she'd avoided George completely and gone out to the club instead. She didn't find herself stupid enough to assume that Gemma just wouldn't. She instead just marked herself down as reckless enough to assume that it just wouldn't matter. Things with Ryan hadn't ended out too badly after all.

That evening, however, Matty looked across the room and wished desperately for something just that little bit more meaningful than Ryan. Sure, her intentions had been to end up on her knees by the end of the night, but she wanted there to be meaning behind it, or at the very least, for a guy to call her beautiful and tell her that shade of lipstick looked good on her, even as he came all over it. Needless to say, Matty was just quite the romantic.

There was no way around the fact that she really did look quite the sight, and that perhaps maybe a gay club hadn't been her best option considering the circumstances, but Matty made her home under the neon lights and with far too many cocktails down her, even coming to take the shifty looks from the barman as compliments. After all, there was just this part of Matty that truly lived to shock people, to keep all eyes on her, to be the center of attention even if for only the worst reasons in the world.

And really, it didn't take long for someone to catch her eye from across the room, and before she could really even consider putting on any kind of act to attract the guy's attention, he'd placed himself down in the seat beside her. The barman looked between the two of them with another questioning kind of look. Matty just pouted a little bit, batted her eyelashes and let the guy buy her a drink.

"Charlie." He introduced himself over a shot of vodka. Matty let a smirk curl over her lips as she caught his eyes, and from what she could make out, under the lights, he was really quite attractive.

"Matty." She nodded across at him, taking him in for what he was, for more than a guy at a bar, stupid enough to buy her a drink, but all dark eyes, and hair so blonde it couldn't be natural. He was tall and muscular - not so much as Ryan had been, perhaps not the kind of guy that could pin her down with one hand, which was something Matty really couldn't help but admit that she was into, but there was something else about him. Perhaps even just a genuine kind of interest to his smile, and maybe that was what she really did need.

"Hard not to look at you, isn't it?" Charlie began, soft-spoken, but his voice so very low, as if it was cutting into Matty's gut directly, and just perhaps there was something she liked about that. But then again, Matty had never claimed that her standards had really ever been particularly high.

"Is it?" Matty raised her eyebrows, gazing up at him from under long black lashes.

"I think the whole club's looking at you." He admitted, leaning back against the bar, and watching in amusement as Matty glanced out across the room, and as Charlie had expected, caught the gaze of several men along the way. "Do you like that?"

Matty turned back to face him, eyes widening a little, as she struggled to quite decipher just what it could mean. "Yeah." Her words seemed far more confident than she was, and she really did wonder if Charlie could tell. Part of her seemed to think that he seemed like the type who just might be able to. "I do."

"Hard not to." Charlie continued, not giving Matty any indication as to whether he'd believed her or not. "No one really comes into a gay club expecting to see someone in lipstick and a skirt."

"Gender roles, huh?" Matty rolled her eyes, momentarily holding off on the true nature of her gender, as she took a moment to herself just to weigh up whether she was just more interested in someone accepting her gender and wanting her regardless, or just in Charlie's dick.

Charlie raised his eyebrows, snorting a little. "Heels too." He followed Matty's legs down to the floor. "Can you even walk in those?"

"Hardly." Matty admitted, giggling a little. She turned back to the barman and ordered another drink. He looked at her just as weirdly. Charlie watched the exchange with wide almost glassy stare; if he was being entirely sure with himself, he just didn't really know what he was looking at when he looked at Matty, but there definitely seemed to be something about her that he liked - something that had drawn him across the room in the first place.

"And you think you're still going to be able to walk in those when you're pissed?" Charlie raised his eyebrows, watching as Matty downed yet another shot. She gave a shrug in response. "You don't care?" He met her with a questioning look.

"That's the whole point of getting drunk, isn't it? So you don't care anymore." Matty leaned forward and met Charlie with a tipsy kind of giggly look, and to be fair, by this point, Matty was definitely bordering into properly drunk rather than just very tipsy. "If I gave a shit what would even be the point?"

"It's good to give a shit about some things though, isn't it?" Charlie suggested, deciding to put a bit of a halt to the drinking for a while.

Matty shrugged. "Alright, whatever, don't get all philosophical on me."

Charlie snorted, finding that whatever it was about Matty, he definitely liked her. "Alright. If you say so. So you don't give a shit, and you're here to get drunk and not be able to walk home. To find yourself wandering through the streets barefoot at three in the morning? Classy, that, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Matty gave into a laugh, liquid confidence consuming her whole. "I'm such a classy girl."

Charlie raised his eyebrows at that one but didn't quite find it necessary to question it. "So, are you like this sober too?" Part of him wasn't even sure why he was curious - he just reckoned that he had to put it down to just that something there was about Matty.

"I don't know." Matty shrugged, coating her every gesture in a grin. "Don't you want to find out?"

"I don't think you are." Charlie made a bold assumption. Matty laughed it off like it was the biggest load of bullshit she'd heard in her life. But, of course, it was true. And really, she did think that they both knew that.

"Mmm?" Her eyes grew wide, laughing too much to overcompensate. "Tell me what you think I'm like, huh?"

"I think you're..." He trailed off, trying to imagine a sober Matty for a moment. "I think you get nervous." He smirked. "I think you get all nervous and clammy, with sweaty palms and everything. I think you're much more average than you like to think you are, at least when you're drunk. I think when you're sober, you're just some idiot who works in Asda or something. You don't look like this, you don't laugh like this, you're just there, no makeup, no skirt, no heels, no statement, no nothing. You're just... you're just some guy."

Charlie finished his words with a laugh and downed what remained of his drink.

Matty went red as threw her gaze down to the floor. "Yeah, alright." She muttered, heart sinking inside of her, as all she'd desperately wanted was for someone to believe in her, to believe in the illusion, to believe she was this beautiful happy girl, with far too much to drink, and far too much to say, but there seemed very little hope of that, or perhaps even hope of anything anymore.

Charlie watched her for a moment, heart pounding as he struggled with the possibility that perhaps he really had gone too far. "Sorry." He hoped that he could make any kind of recovery out of that. "I just-"

"I work in a coffeeshop, not Asda, by the way." Matty pulled her gaze back up to meet his, something almost playfully vindictive in her eyes, burning like a fire under the lights - a bright neon flame.

Charlie gave way to a laugh. "Alright, that's my bad-"

"And I'm a girl, not a guy, by the way." She finished, dropping her words like they were nothing at all.

And really, Gemma had been right, Matty had never really been any good with talking to people and really assessing the weight her words held. So she just sat there and sipped her drink, watching as Charlie's jaw dropped.

"Uhh..." Charlie glanced around almost uncomfortably, and really, despite herself, there was something about that which amused Matty, because despite what he thought of himself, there was no denying that he was attracted to her, and she really just couldn't help but relish in that.

"Yeah?" Matty smiled back up at him, batting her eyelashes under a sense of falsified innocence.

"This is a gay club, right? You know that, right?" Charlie turned back to her with confusion. "And I... isn't Matty a guy's name? Are you fucking with me-"

Matty rolled her eyes, hating the sudden sinking feeling in her chest, as Charlie's words began latching themselves onto her heart like an anchor. "Yeah, Charlie. Isn't that a girl's name too? I think I dated a girl named Charlie once. How about that?"

"That's-..." Charlie stalled himself for a moment, really just so very unsure about how he might deal with the situation at all. "That's because Charlie can be short for Charlotte, or like... Charles. So what's Matty short for? Matthew?"

"It's not short for anything." Matty snapped back at him, hating the way her guts seemed to twist themselves into a knot at his use of the name 'Matthew'. "My name's Matty."

"A guy's name-"

"Well, here you go, it's my name, and I'm a girl, so how about you just deal with that?" Matty shook her head, and turned back towards the barman, hitting him with a particularly spiteful smile as she ordered herself another drink, downing it instantly. Charlie watched her, so very wide eyed.

"Wouldn't really think to go to a gay club if I was a girl though." Charlie added, eyes fixated on Matty, trying to take her in the best he could, perhaps now just even more confused as to what he was supposed to think of her.

"Where else I am going to go?" Matty looked up at him so very casually. "Because we all just know so very many straight guys who are going to want to touch my dick."

Charlie's words dropped right to the pit of his stomach. "So you're a girl... with a dick...?"

"Yeah, how about that?" Matty rolled her eyes, almost growing tired of Charlie, or at the very least, just of his conversation. "So fascinating, isn't it? It's almost like people are more than just what's between their legs."

Charlie was very quiet for a good minute. And Matty really did think about ordering another drink, but instead spent the time surveying the club, wondering which guy she'd get to buy one for her.

"I like girls, you know?" Charlie added after a while. "As well. I like girls, and I like dick." He looked down at Matty once more.

"Great." Matty added, so very tired of him already. "So are you going to fuck me or not?"

Charlie's eyes grew wide, and he seemed to choke on thin air. "That's a bit... blunt."

Matty grew almost entirely disinterested. "That's why I came out here. So, Charlie, am I wasting my time?"

Charlie paused for a moment, but then, very suddenly, he pulled his lips up into a grin. "No, Matty, I don't think you are."

She flashed him a grin and downed one last shot, catching one last disgusted look from the barman, as she let Charlie lead her out of the club, out onto the street, in the cold evening air, shivering out on the pavement as he walked her to his place, and Matty really began to regret not asking Gemma to let her borrow some tights. It was November, after all.

What she didn't regret, however, was anything else about the situation, was even the amused look in Charlie's eyes, or the promises she knew she'd broken, and how at the back of her mind, she really knew that Charlie was hardly the best guy she'd ever met. But it worked, and it felt right, and Matty had so very little room up in her head for things like George or Gemma, or even common sense, as finally Charlie lead her up to his flat and closed the door behind them.

-

It took no more than a bottle of red wine from the kitchen, and the sun to fall further over the horizon, coupled with idle conversation and the odd few cigarettes, before Matty found herself once again in a stranger's bed.

It wasn't that she'd just forgotten her promise, or really everything she knew that told her just how bad of an idea this all was, it was just perhaps that she needed this right now. And that need seemed to outweigh everything else, or perhaps it was just so much easier to let the alcohol soak up her feelings as she stretched her arms out above her head, face up towards the ceiling, as she caught Charlie's gaze from across the room.

"Not to be disrespectful, but like..." Charlie began, watching her from afar: all pale skin, and flushed pink cheeks, as soft brown curls fell across her face. Matty grew curious and blinked up at him expectantly from under those dark lashes, and Charlie's stomach really did seem to tie itself into one big knot.

"Mmm?" She thought about sitting up, wondering if he wanted to actually talk about things, before they actually had sex, but really, Matty was far too drunk to talk, and far too stupid to tell herself otherwise.

"I've never had sex with a girl with a dick before." He added, as casually as he could. Although, by now, Matty had figured that it made him uncomfortable - at least talking about it so directly at least. She reckoned that he had to be at least decently comfortable with the idea if he was so keen to fuck her.

"Alright yeah. That's understandable." Matty bit her lip for a moment, trying not to think about the amount of lipstick she just might be getting on her teeth. "I am... I am just a girl, though, you know? Not a 'girl-with-a-dick', like I'm some sort of weird branded product. I'm a person. I'm a girl."

"Yeah." Charlie nodded across the room, running a hand up through his hair. "I know." He paused for a moment, just watching Matty: the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathed in and out, and each bit of skin stretched out, and beautiful, looking unreasonably gorgeous as she lay sprawled across his bed.

"I just brought it up because of, well, if we're going to fuck, that's going to involve your dick, isn't it?" He continued, making his way over to the bed, and perching himself down on the end. Matty met him with a nod. "I thought... you'd maybe want the opportunity to talk about that... like I don't, maybe there were some things that made you uncomfortable-"

"Charlie, just shut the fuck up, alright?" Matty sat up then, growing tired of the vague half hearted strands of conversation, and the chill to the room, and the ache of the distance between them. "I want to have sex with you. That's that. I've got a dick. I'm aware of that. You're aware of that. You know how to have sex with someone with a dick, the whole situation isn't entirely groundbreaking is it, now?"

"Alright." He turned towards her, pulling his shirt off and discarding it onto the bedroom floor. "Come here then, princess."

Matty raised her eyebrows. "Oh, of course, you only get the nice pet names out when you want something." There was a teasing, almost playful tone to her voice, however.

"And I do." Charlie added, pulling Matty into his lap, and running his hands up under her shirt. "I want you."

Matty rolled her eyes, but kissed him regardless.

It was messy. With far too much and far too little all at the same time, with what at times seemed to be too many limbs for the both of them, and too little space for it all. They met with a clash of teeth and tongues, and the strong taste of wine on their lips, mixed with nicotine, and what else remained from the few cigarettes they'd shared. It had been passionate, but more so desperate, as Charlie did all he could to take away that part of Matty that still smelt like the club, that still smelt like other men - the part that still smelt like George.

And Matty left herself pliable, open, and somehow, at peace, leaving stark lipstick stains against Charlie's lips, cheek, and in a trail down his neck to the very bottom of his chest. She left that part of herself like a reminder - something she hoped he'd struggled to wipe off, a part of herself that just wouldn't be gone come the morning.

As much as she did give back, with almost forceful presses of her lips all over his body, and her legs wrapped so tightly around his waist that if she wasn't so skinny, Charlie might have been worried that he might break. She let herself be used. She let him mould her body down into what he wanted of her, she let him look her deep in the eyes and yet at nothing at all, she let him, because this was how she needed it.

It didn't hurt, but it ached - with arms pinned back against the mattress and legs spread wide open under fingertips that were sure to leave bruises. That, however, was what Matty would call the good kind of ache. Something she'd feel for days, something that wouldn't just fade away, something to keep her sane throughout everything else, even if just in the form of dark red fingerprints, and one hand on her waist, gripping her so tight that she thought he might never let go.

And Matty didn't even see something so wrong with that, even as the room began to smell more of sweat than anything else, and Charlie began to make these almost pathetic kind of guttural grunting noises, and she lay there, completely open, completely his, yet completely at peace. She liked it. She liked the way it felt real, the way her heart was beginning to open up again, and as his hips slammed against her thighs for the final time, she caught her first real breath of fresh air in months.

She came gasping for breath, with shaking, bruised thighs, and a warm kind of content dizziness, like she yearned for the spin to the room, like she wanted nothing more than the ride of it all. She lay there, just breathing, breathing like she'd never took breath before, and thought of thrill, thought of the consequences, and thought of the mistake.

But it wasn't like it had been before; Matty looked back up at Charlie from under those same dark lashes, although slightly damp this time around, and felt entirely limitless. Like they were up in the clouds, like she'd never have to come down, with fireworks going off in her dick, chest, and brain.

She wasn't quite sure what it had been, but she wanted more, even as Charlie came back from the bathroom, having disposed of the condom, and cleaned himself up a bit. He still looked just as handsome, even as he'd flicked the light on as he'd wandered in, but Matty lay there and wondered if it was so much about looks at all.

"You want to use the bathroom?" He asked her, wondering if Matty had actually so much as moved since she'd came. And truth be told, she wasn't sure that she had.

Matty gave a shrug, letting her eyelids flutter closed as she sank herself back down into the pillows. "I'm alright." She assured him.

"Shouldn't you like wipe your makeup off, or something?" Charlie continued, meeting Matty's eyes as they flickered open once more. "Isn't it like really bad for your skin if you don't?"

Matty snorted, finding it within herself to properly sit up after all. "Do you really care about my skin? In all of this, your biggest concern is whether I'm gonna get all spotty or not?"

"No." He rolled his eyes. "Not my biggest, but you should clean yourself up. What's more important is that you... enjoyed that..." He bit his lip momentarily.

Matty thought for a moment before she did finally respond. "Yeah." She added, in all honesty. "I did. Like a lot. Like really a lot."

Charlie met her with a smile. "I did too."

And they sat there smiling at each other like gormless idiots for a good five minutes before Charlie really did make Matty go and wipe her makeup off, because maybe he was so concerned about her skin after all.

-

In her mind, Matty had seen herself leaving the very moment she'd woken up that following Saturday morning, walking out without a word, or a note, or anything to say for herself. She might have even nicked something to eat from the kitchen on her way out.

But, in her mind, Matty did see a lot of things. Like, getting her mouth on George's cock, like actually going over to George's and talking to him that Friday afternoon, like never sleeping with Ryan, like never sleeping with Charlie, like never lying to Gemma, like never breaking another promise. But not quite so many of them did actually happen.

And despite perhaps everything she'd thought she'd known, it was six that Monday evening and she found herself curled up Charlie's sofa, wearing nothing but one of his shirts, which was so very big for her, and a blanket wrapped around her legs.

She found Charlie curled up next to her, scrolling absent mindedly through his phone, and they sat there, oddly peaceful, with the TV on in the background, and the whole town visible out of the window of his flat.

Matty thought about her own phone, about her own friends, about her own life outside of Charlie's flat, about the person she'd left behind on George's doorstep that Friday, about the person she might have grown to become if she'd had the guts to follow through with everything Gemma had said.

She knew, at the back of her mind, that she should have been home by now, and that there was no use in making a routine out of these absent weekends, because she knew Louis worried and understood, and both worried and understood so much more than he let on. And there were her parents too, but she didn't quite want to think about her mum and dad just twenty minutes after she'd ridden someone guy's dick on his sofa, up in his flat, all the way at the other side of town.

Although, Charlie wasn't quite so much of a stranger anymore, as they had indeed spent the past few days entirely in one another's company, with the rest of the world blocked out completely, despite the consequences that held. And Matty had felt alive and free, limitless, like she had that first time, that Friday night, stretched out on Charlie's bed, unsure what to make of herself anymore.

And she would have thought that by Monday she might have gathered somewhat more of a better idea, but she'd done very little thinking for once in her life. Instead, they'd sat together and talked, and kissed, and drank, and smoked, and fucked like there was nothing else left in the world at all. And a part of Matty really did begin to believe that things were like that, and despite all she knew, she began to crave it.

Because at least in that moment, Matty wanted to stay there forever, with Charlie, with stupid conversations, with drink, with sex, with his hands all over her body, and this new kind of living that left her so much more alive than anything else had.

But still, despite all she'd done, Matty still wasn't quite stupid enough to truly believe that it was something that would happen. Monday had been pushing it after all, and she'd really been in two minds about calling in sick that morning, but when Charlie gave her a long, meaningful look, and a carefully placed optimistic smile, Matty would just about do anything for him.

"I'm gonna have to go soon." Matty let out a sigh, stretching her arms out behind her, and basically doing all she could to postpone actually looking at Charlie. "Tonight, probably."

"Are you sure?" He watched her desperately, like he was just as afraid of losing her as she suddenly was of losing him. Matty gave a nod. "What about the morning? Stay tonight. Stay with me tonight, Matty, please."

Matty pulled her lip between her teeth: she was torn, split right in two between the person she'd been just before the weekend - the life she had outside of this flat, and the new life she'd found for herself within it, within Charlie, and the warm look in his eyes.

"I can't." She told him, knowing that she should have been home that morning at least, and that if she'd really been in the right mind, she wouldn't have been spending whole weekends away from home in the first place, especially not with just some guy she'd met at a club. Although, she wouldn't quite call Charlie that anymore. But still, her mum was less likely to understand it in the way she might if Matty had just spent the time with Gemma.

"Why not?"

"I need to be home. I should have been home this morning. I've not spoken to my parents or my friends since, like... well... I've not spoken to my family since Thursday, and then some of my friends since Friday... and then... there's..." Matty stopped herself as she reached the matter of George. She shook her head. "I've not spoken to some of my other friends since before that."

"Then text them." Charlie told her like it was simple. And for a moment, she just hoped she could have believed that it was. "You can use my phone if yours is out of charge."

"No, it's just... it's off." She finished, tugging anxiously at the hem of Charlie's shirt, draped down over her skinny thighs.

"Why don't you want to?" He continued to ask, meeting Matty with the kind of concern that she could have never imagined of him the first time she'd seen him that Friday night, but things had changed since then, and she sat there, certain that this was real, this was something, and this mattered.

"They'll tell me I need to come home." Matty let out a sigh.

"And you don't want to." Charlie finished for her, filling in the gaps the best he could, as he felt his mouth twitch up into a smile.

"I'm scared." She admitted, with all the courage she had left in her. "This felt like... for me anyway, for me. For me, this felt like something. Like it mattered. I'm scared to lose this. I'm scared to lose... you."

Charlie stopped for a moment, seeming to drown amidst his own thoughts for a little while. "Then don't. Don't lose me. I won't let you if that's what you want. This mattered to me too."

Matty met him with a smile as she began to breathe a sigh of relief.

"What do you want?" He asked her directly, with a rather honest look in his eyes, perhaps even just blunt in some ways.

"I..." She stumbled, unsure of quite where to begin.

"From me." Charlie began to clarify. "Of this. Of 'us'. If there is an 'us'. If you want there to be an 'us'. What do you want, Matty? What do you want to be to me? Just someone, just a friend, just... or just something else, like... something more than that."

"What do you mean... something more than that?" Matty twitched slightly as she asked, her body beginning to tense up all over.

"Like... I don't know..." Charlie let out a sigh. "Like my girlfriend or something stupid like that."

Matty met him with a laugh. "Something stupid like that." Charlie couldn't help but raise his eyebrows. "I like... I like the sound... of the word... girlfriend. Fuck, not necessarily yours, but in general, I just... it's sort of validating, gender wise, isn't it? Like I'm... maybe I'm not quite anyone's sister or daughter, but I'm... someone's girlfriend."

Charlie remained very silent for a moment. "I'd do that for you. If you want." He skirted around Matty's gaze almost nervously. "If that's what you want. Because here's the thing, princess, you matter. So what you want, I want that too. And do you? Do you want that? Do you want me?" He met her gaze rather suddenly, as he began to raise his voice.

And Matty sat there for a moment, weighing up everything in her mind. She could just feel herself making the worst decision of her life, but she let herself do just that, because at least for the time being, it just might be all that could keep her sane.

"Yeah." She leaned in closer. "I want that."

She held herself there for a moment, her brain taking a full minute to catch up to her heart, as he grabbed her with strong arms around her back, and pulled her in for a kiss.

And then when they did finally pull apart, Matty met him with a look of reverence. "I really do have to go now."

Charlie gave her a smile and a nod, and this time, let her.

It took her no more than five minutes to gather her stuff and put some more clothes on, and Charlie met her at the door again, kissing her only briefly as she slipped through the door, as she stood there, with his shirt still on, and he knew she would have to come back.

Matty spent the walk home that Monday evening, ignoring every single missed message and call on her phone, as she tried not to think about just how bad things could possibly be when she got home, and her feet properly landed back in reality again.

She'd looked back at the block of the flats the moment she'd made it out onto the main road, and there wasn't a single question in her chest that it was where she wanted to stay.

It was just the deepest piece of her heart that remained caught up in other ideas - caught up and lost in a warm golden light, in a gentle gaze, in words so softly spoken, in endless nights, in early mornings, and memories scattered around like photographs on bedroom walls.

-

hey i hope u enjoyed this chapter

can u believe this story saved my life its terrible I'm terrible i know

mattys terrible

but really just trying her best

she loves george really

she's just struggling with that

and u know what honestly bless her

she's got a lot going on she just

she needs help really she's needs someone like george

and she just wont admit that to herself

but she's trying

and she'll get there in the end

because she's lovely and she's trying

and she deserves it

I'm sorry u didnt need that but basically i love this fic more than i love everything else in the world combined

pls vote and comment if u enjoyed lov u