"He is. He is your type."

They were sat out at the back of John's garden, smoking away a pack of cigarettes between the two of them, as they sat hidden away behind the shrubbery. The world was fading away around them into dull tones and decaying browns, and George sat there feeling such a statement reflected not just the season him, but something trapped up inside of him too.

George flashed a look reminiscent of that of a petulant child. "He's not my type. I don't even have a type, and even if I did, why would it be... Matty?"

John smiled: entirely too amused by this all. "Because you like him. And if you're so head over heels for him, he must be your type."

"Who said anything about being head over heels?" George exclaimed, burying his face into the palm of his hand as he let out a breathy kind of defeated groan. "I don't, John, come on."

"You were the one who wanted to talk about him." John made a point of reminding him.

"Yeah, just because he's all I can think about doesn't mean I'm in love with him or anything." Anyone would have thought George was being entirely satirical, if not for the deadly serious tone to his voice.

John just stared at him in disbelief.

"What?" George blushed, doing all he could to defend himself.

"You do." John told him, knowingly.

"I do what?" George uttered perhaps too slowly, as if he dreaded John's response.

"Fancy him." John supplied - like it was simple, like it was easy. When for George, it was perhaps anything but. "You absolutely fucking fancy him."

"I-"

"Come on." John grinned across at him. "We both know it."

George breathed a desperate sigh, wishing things could make anywhere near as much sense up in his own head.

"Well maybe..." George trailed off, gesturing wildly with his hands. "Okay, you know it. But I don't. I don't know. I don't know what's going on in my head, I don't know what any of this means. They're like... feelings, but like new feelings, and... I don't know what to do with them."

John raised his eyebrows. "What's new about them then? What are they like?"

"Different." George declared: finding it to be perhaps the only thing he could utter with any sort of confidence.

"How?" John thought for a moment, attempting to infer the mess George had left between his words. "Like... different to... girls? Like when you had crushes on girls... it feels different to that?"

"Yeah." George gave a nod, taking a drag of his cigarette in a desperate attempt to clear his head. "That's why it can't be a crush, because it doesn't feel like a crush. I've had loads of crushes in my life - I know what having a crush feels like. This doesn't feel like that."

John stopped himself, taking a brief few moments to think. "But those were all crushes on girls?"

"Yeah, but does it make any difference?" George let out an exasperated kind of sigh: sounding entirely too caught up in his own mess.

"I don't know." John gave a shrug. "I've only had proper crushes on boys. Maybe you should go and talk to someone who's bi or something."

"Yeah, where exactly am I going to just find a bisexual, like off the street or something?" George snorted, detracting from the slightly more serious nature of their conversation. "Doesn't seem likely. Look, John, I'm not going to go parading around screaming about my stupid fucking feelings. I'm not even going to talk to Ross about this - he's far too smug about it all. Like he knew, or something. It's unnerving."

"Well..." John trailed off, grinning a little. "We did... not be weird, or anything, but me and Ross got drunk once and made a bet over who would turn out to be the least straight between you and Adam."

George grimaced, his eyes blown wide the very moment he'd put it all together. "And you went for Adam?"

"Yeah." John gave a nod. "I went for Adam."

George was almost offended. He couldn't quite figure out as to why or how. But he knew for certain that he was. That this was outrageous, ridiculous - just plain stupid.

"You went for Adam." George repeated, like he still couldn't quite believe it. "You went for the guy who will leave the room, not even the room, but the house, the fucking house- when even girls start showing off the weird dick pics they got from gross guys on Snapchat."

"Yeah." John continued, still adamant in his choice. "Adam."

"John, you're fucking stupid." George always made effort to be the most polite and courteous friend he could be. John only snorted.

"Why's that?" He couldn't help but inquire.

"Well, for a start." George could sort of feel that what he was about to say was almost definitely a bad idea, but still, he just couldn't quite help himself. "This morning, I had a wank-"

"George." John let out a groan - he'd rather not be scarred for life if he could help it.

"No, it's an important wank. It was... sort of emotionally harrowing. It was a weird wank. Not like physically weird, but just... you know..." George stopped himself for a moment, taking some time just to smoke and think, and really reassess just what he was about to so calmly offer up to John.

"Do you ever like have a wank, and like stop yourself, because suddenly you're like thinking about the fact that you're wanking, and then it's kind of weird somehow?" John looked at George like he really wasn't far off madness. "No, okay? Well... I... started thinking about whether other people wanked differently to me. It was a weird... oddly existential wank. And then... I sort of... I don't know how it happened really, but I started thinking about... Matty."

John's eyes grew wide. "While you were touching your dick? Literally mid wank?"

"Mid existential wank, yes." George gave way to a sigh. "I started thinking about Matty. I started thinking about how he'd wank, like I feel like if there was going to be anyone that wanked weirdly, it was going to be Matty, and I think maybe this isn't just the kind of shit you can get drunk and ask someone - I don't think we've reached that level yet."

John really did wonder if he'd ever heard anything more blatantly gay in his life.

"And it did feel a bit weird, so I did try to stop thinking about Matty, so I started thinking about some random girl, or whatever, you know usual shit, and then... then that... turned into me wondering what Matty thought about when he got off. And somehow I managed to be narcissistic enough to wonder if that ever might be me. But I feel like Matty's wanked over everyone he's ever held a conversation with in his life. But... like... Matty... getting off over me... like... Matty thinking about me touching his dick... like... that's... that did things."

"Oh my god." John widened his eyes in utter disbelief. "You came because you started thinking about touching Matty's dick- George, I-"

"No." George shook his head, cheeks flushing red. "I started thinking about Matty thinking about me touching his dick. There's a difference."

"Is there?" John wasn't quite so sure.

"Yeah." George gave a nod. "I think it's... the idea that Matty would be attracted to me, that I find more... appealing, than the physical idea of actually touching his dick. I mean, I think dicks are kind of gross."

"Everyone thinks that about all genitalia. There's nothing sexy about the average dick or vagina-" George couldn't help but laugh at the way John was unable to help himself from going red. "It's about... it's the person it's attached to."

"Yeah." George gave a nod. "That does make sense."

John gave George a questioning stare. "You're attracted to the idea of Matty being attracted to you, because you're attracted to him. You're just not entirely comfortable with the idea of that yet."

George shook his head. "I don't like guys, John. Like, you get to a point, and you just sort of know, and you- it's sort of really just... Matty. Not that I really- fuck, I don't know, alright, John? I don't know."

"That's fine." John assured him. "No one says that you have to."

"I want to know though." George gave way to a sigh. "I... I think there's something... there emotionally, but... I don't know about... because... I don't know."

"What do you mean?" John watched him for a moment: sensing that there could be more to George's story until the end of time itself.

"He put the pictures back up. On my bedroom walls. I didn't ask him to. I just woke up one morning and he had. And he left this note, this apology, like he was the reason I took them down, and he kind of wasn't, kind of was. But it was like... it was like 'I'm sorry. You mean so much to me'. He put kisses on the end even."

"Oh..." John's eyes grew wide.

"It reminds me of... one of my old girlfriends used to leave me notes like that when I was sad or when we'd fought or something. And I'd do the same for her, like... you know soppy stupid notes and shit. Like... Matty's note... it made me feel like I had with those. And I was so in love with her. And I think... maybe I'm a bit in love with Matty, just a little bit, but like emotionally... I think it's when I start to think about the fact that he's a boy that everything just gets complicated."

"If you love him, then should it matter?" John posed a question, and really, George just didn't even know.

"Because, what do I do? If I am straight, but I feel like that about him, like okay that doesn't make the most sense, but... like... I don't know... like if I have feelings for him, and he has feelings for me, but I'm into girls, and like physically, it just wouldn't work. Because that fucks with my head." George let out a sigh. "It's not like it's even his dick. Like... it's just... femininity. I think... I am a bit attracted to him because he's a bit feminine, but he's a boy... but- it's all just fucking with my head, honestly."

"Honestly, you're going to punch me for suggesting this, but talk to him. Tell him how you feel." John watched George for a moment, as really he did look awfully close to punching him, but George managed to restrain himself.

"And maybe it doesn't matter anyway, because he's got... there's this guy, called Charlie. And they're sort of... they've got a thing, and... yeah, they've been arguing quite a bit lately, but I shouldn't step in and make things worse for them."

"I think you're just making excuses." John reached a rather bold conclusion.

George's eyes widened. "You what? I think... I think I'm just doing the decent thing, like... if he's already got someone, then-"

"If he's already got someone then why is he spooning you? Why is he leaving you sappy notes with kisses on the end?" John raised a very good point. "Don't you think that means something? And that it's maybe something to do with the reason why he's not getting on well with this guy. Maybe because he wants you. Maybe he doesn't want to admit it either. Why do you think things are like this?"

George didn't quite know what to say to that one at all, instead he went for perhaps the only thing he could say.

"Because he's Matty. That's why. That's what he does."

"Does he?" John raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah. He falls in love with everyone off the street. He told me himself. It's nothing special. It's just us. It's just the way it is."

-

"That's just how things happen."

He laughed it off like it was obvious. Like she was stupid. Like this was something she should have felt guilty about. As if the four walls closing in on her were really nothing more than a warm embrace.

But she couldn't make herself look at things that way anymore.

It was all wrong.

"Doesn't mean it's how they should." Matty shook her head, taking a step back and pressing herself against the cold glass of the window.

Part of her yearned for the world outside, even for the cold air that would surely chill her down to the bone. It had to be better than this. Better than long stares: eternal gazes constructed only out of habit, and a bitter nothingness shared between the two of them.

"It doesn't mean anything, sweetheart." He assured her, taking a step closer, pulling out the pet names - he was doing all he could to stop her from walking out of that door, and this time around, she knew it.

"It means something to me." She uttered, turning away and casting her gaze out through the window and across the town, across the thousands of people below, and stood there and wondered what kinds of lives each and everyone of them lived. She wondered if they were happy. She wondered if she was too.

"I love you." Charlie grew desperate, approaching her by the window, sharing her gaze like it was something he deserved - like all that was hers was his too. Like they had anything real between them, like everything had been given and not stolen. Like his words had ever bore any meaning.

Matty didn't say anything to that.

She wanted to tell him that he was wrong. That it wasn't true. She sure as hell felt so in her heart. But it wasn't her place to tell someone that they didn't love her.

They waited in silence for a while instead.

Matty knew he was waiting on the 'I love you too'. Matty knew he would be waiting for quite a while.

"Babe..." He trailed off, reaching for her hand: holding it tight and grasping it against his.

Matty shook her head, squirming in his grasp. "Why did you- why are we- Charlie..." She drew out a sigh, turning and meeting him face on. "It's not my fault that I left. It's not my fault that I'm unhappy. I... don't... this isn't you... this is... I don't want this anymore."

"What did I ever do to you?" Charlie took a step back - utterly astounded. "I was always there. I always loved you. I always took you in. I always listened. I always kissed you. I was always there. Who else could do that for you?" He didn't give her chance to think about that, let alone respond. "No one else can do that for you."

Matty shook her head, offering him a small smile, formed solely out of the desire to be polite. "I don't. I don't want that anymore. You're... helping in the short term, but not... not in the long term. I need to get better by myself. And the arguments make things worse, and we-... this doesn't feel right anymore."

"What do you mean?" Charlie grasped her hand tighter, as if he feared that she might fade away right between his fingertips. "What does this feel like then? Wrong? Is this what wrong feels like?" He leaned in and kissed her.

Matty let him.

She let her head fall back against the wall, let his body slot around his, let his weight press down on hers in time to his lips, let everything fade away under strong arms and soft lips.

But she didn't let herself respond.

She stood there, still, motionless, and felt him attempt to make life out of that, to make love out of them - something out of nothing, to turn ashes back into flame.

"Yeah." She uttered as he finally pulled away, studying her with long hopeless eyes. "That's what wrong feels like."

"Kiss me back." Charlie pleaded, pushing her back against the wall. "Just tell me what your point is, tell me what you're trying to prove, for fuck's sake. I'll listen, I'll listen to anything. I'll- just stop this, I hate this- what are you doing? Just kiss me back... Matty, please."

She shook her head. "I don't love you."

He pulled away, taking a step back and studying her gaze like she was insane. Like he couldn't believe it. Like he couldn't believe her. Like the Matty stood before him was an entirely different person to the Matty he'd first met at the club. And in some respects, she was.

"I never did." Matty added: her voice slow, tentative.

Charlie's fist hit the wall.

The whole room seemed to shake against the impact.

She watched motionlessly from where she stood frozen across the room. She wondered what would have happened if she hadn't given him time to pull away first - where that fist would have went in that case.

Matty swallowed hard.

"You can't just-" Charlie paced across the room, burying his head in his hands. "You can't just do that to people. Play with their emotions. Make them love you. I love you, Matty. I care about you, and you- what the fuck even was this for you then?"

Matty paused for a moment, daring not to take one step away from the wall, valuing the distance between her and Charlie with her life.

"You said you'd do that for me."

"Do what?" He snapped, stopping in his tracks and properly facing her. "Perpetuate your ego, your need to drain people until there's nothing left?"

"You let me be your girlfriend." She brought them back to that first weekend. Back to when things had been okay. "Because I needed that. To be someone's girlfriend."

"You do. You need that." He appeared desperate to convince her as such.

"Not anymore." She shook her head. "It... feels wrong now. All wrong."

"Matty..." Charlie drew a sigh, making his way across the room, with something gentler about him this time around. "Matty..." He met her gaze. "I love you, princess- please. I can do that for you, I can do whatever you want me to. I'll let you be my girlfriend, I'll let you be my whole world-"

Matty knew that wasn't true.

And even if it had been, she wouldn't have wanted it anyway.

"It's not... I'm not... like that anymore."

"What?" Charlie needed to know. "You're not what anymore? Not my girlfriend? Not mine? Or just not a girl anymore. Was this all just some act to shock me, to get my attention, to play me. To play a part. To be the girlfriend."

"No." Matty shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. "Fuck, I don't know, I-"

"What?" Charlie demanded, growing tired, growing so very over this all.

"It doesn't feel right anymore."

"What doesn't feel right anymore?" His words grew more bitter by the second.

"Anything." Matty let out a sigh: exasperated, so tired, so very tired of all of this.

"Why's that?" Charlie raised his eyebrows. "You think that's because of me. You think I've singlehandedly ruined your whole life- for fuck's sake, Matty-"

"No." She shook her head, cutting into his words. "It's my fault. I went about everything all wrong. It's all my fault. And I'm sorry that you got dragged into things, but that's just the way things happened. I can't be your girlfriend anymore. It doesn't feel right. I can't be anyone's girlfriend anymore. It just doesn't feel right."

"So I was right..." Charlie trailed off. "You are just some guy-"

"I'm- no. It's not like that." Matty gave way to a sigh. "I can't be anyone's boyfriend either. I'm not. That doesn't feel right either. Neither of the two either really did. I was just desperate, and... being a girl, felt better than being a boy, so I went for it, I grasped it with all I had and just hoped for the best, but-... I wanted to be like those perfect girls with perfect lives, so happy, so in love with everything, with the whole world. But they're not happy because they're girls, they're happy because they're happy. And that sounds obvious now, but-"

"You can't just not be a boy or a girl- you've-" Charlie seemed to struggle with the mere concept.

"But I'm not. I'm somewhere in between, like a bit of a both, like... and..." Matty gave way to a laugh. "Like it's everyone like you that would say things like that. That was what made me unsure. But like, you're just some guy, you're- it doesn't fucking matter, what you think... I don't care."

"No one's going to love you like that. No one's going to understand, Matty." Charlie shook his head. "Come on, I know you. I love you. Come on, sit down, come on, stay. Let's talk about this. I'm sorry. Make me understand."

"I don't care, Charlie. I don't want you anymore, I don't want this-"

"Matty, babe, please." He gave way to a sigh. "You can't just be... someone to me. I don't want this to be the end. I don't want to never see you again. You can't just- Give me a chance like this. Give us a chance like this, and you can be... not my girlfriend, not my boyfriend, but whatever you want to be- whatever fits in your head. Give it a chance, please-"

"Alright." Matty decided, falling into a smile. "I won't be your girlfriend, I won't be your boyfriend, so instead I'll be your nothing. We're nothing. That fits."

"Please, I'm trying-..." Charlie gave way to a sigh. "Just... talk to me for a minute, please. Let me understand this. Let me understand you. How does this even work? All this... nothing."

"It's not nothing." Matty dared to take a step closer to him. "It's like... it's like there's red and blue. I'm the colour purple. A more reddish purple. But that doesn't make it red. And certainly not blue. It's in the middle. It's a mix of the two. Because I don't think gender is really supposed to make sense, because it's just a spectrum, because it's just a mess, and I think it's just about calling yourself what makes you feel comfortable, being who you really are."

"So what do you want me to call you?" Charlie barely managed to push the words out.

"I think maybe I'm a they not a she. I don't know. I guess I'll have to see how it feels." Matty offered up a simple smile.

"How did you know? When did you realise?" Charlie begged for them to continue, for Matty to stay, until everything began to make sense again.

"When things with you stopped feeling right." Matty told him rather plainly. Perhaps that wasn't how things should have gone down, but there was no changing what had already left their lips.

"But that's- that's just our relationship, that's not your gender, is it?" Charlie looked at across at Matty like they were truly mad. "How can you fucking come to that conclusion from that-"

"Our 'relationship' was always about my gender. It always about proving it to myself, it was always about making it feel right." Matty shot him a look, deciding that they just didn't care anymore.

"How is that fair?" Charlie got to his feet, watching with wide eyes as Matty made their way towards the door. "You used me. How is that fair at all?"

"Like you haven't used me too. Come on, Charlie, I'm not stupid." Matty stopped and watched him for a moment, perhaps even offering him a look of pity across from the door.

"You're being stupid if you seriously think leaving this, leaving me is going to help this at all-"

"Shut up." Matty rolled their eyes. "Watch me. Watch me leave. Watch it be the smartest thing I've ever done."

"You'll come back." Charlie yelled after them, catching their gaze for just a brief moment. "I know you will."

And Matty didn't think anyone had ever been more wrong, because in that moment they knew themself more than they ever had, and if they could ever be certain of anything, it was this.

Everything felt right. Matty felt alive. For the first time in their life. On top. Of the world. Happy. Like nothing good would ever end. Infinite. Perfect. Forever. The kind of blissful drunk they always craved, but finally found completely sober.

-

The feeling carried out for the rest of the day. Right from the moment Matty stepped off Charlie's doorstep to the moment they ended up on George's.

That was when everything stopped. Or at least everything came to its peak, and dropped back down again. As Matty found themselves, wide-eyed, and honestly terrified as they faced George's front door.

They wanted to turn back. To hide away. But that was how it had all happened last time. That was where Charlie had come from. And the last thing Matty needed right now was another Charlie. And there wasn't the slightest chance in hell that they'd offer him the satisfaction of abiding to his prediction, and coming right back.

Instead, Matty swallowed their pride. Swallowed everything they had left of themself and looked the epitome of everything straight in the eye. They held their breath as they pressed their finger against the doorbell, and tried to curl up back inside themself as the sound of footsteps inside grew louder and louder as they approached the door.

Really, it was a good thing that it was George who answered the door, as immediately Matty pretty much flung themself at him without a moment's thought.

"Hey..." George stumbled backwards a little: finding that the sudden impact of Matty burying themself against his chest was not something he could have expected. "You alright?"

"Been better." Matty gave a sigh, taking a breath before finally pulling away.

George offered them a smile, coming to terms with the fact that he could just never wish to know exactly what was on Matty's mind. "Come on." He gestured. "Do you want a cup of tea?"

Matty grinned, shutting the front door behind them. "Alright then."

Despite the urgency the matter seemed to have commended itself with just mere minutes ago, Matty found themself sat idly on the sofa with George: half-listening to the recount of his day as they began to sip on their tea.

"So..." George gave a sigh, placing his cup of tea back down onto the coffee table. "What about you? Don't even try and tell me that there isn't something up. You're not just that excited to see me."

"But I am." Matty persisted, giving way to a laugh as they took placed their mug down onto the coffee table. George rolled his eyes at them, shook his head and tutted, before sliding a coaster under the mug. Matty snorted.

"Shut up." George let out a sigh. "You nearly knocked me over as well, fucking ran at me basically."

"Sorry." Matty offered up a smile. "I needed a hug."

George grinned. "Alright." He certainly wasn't one to complain.

"And we need to talk." Matty gave way to a sigh: knowing they couldn't put it off any longer. "Like really need to talk. And it's just... things have happened, today especially. And you need to know. I'm scared to tell you, fucking course I am, but it's- I think we're... I think we'll be alright."

"Is this...?" George trailed off, his eyes growing wide as he struggled to even consider the possibility.

"The thing." Matty added, doing a great job of making it all sound so unnecessarily foreboding. "Yeah." They gave a nod.

"Oh..." George focused on just breathing for a good minute. A part of him had been so very convinced that this would never happen, that they'd never quite get here at all.

"Me and Charlie broke up." Matty was quite sure where to begin, and in the end went for the first place that came to their mind. "That's not the thing." They added, blushing a little. "That's just... the... yeah... me and Charlie broke up today."

George watched Matty for a moment, not entirely sure what to think at all. "I didn't think you and Charlie were... together like... properly."

Matty couldn't help but blush. They gave a shrug. "It was a bit... complicated... messy... I don't know. But I... I guess he was my boyfriend."

"What?" George's eyes grew wide. "What while you and me were fucking spooning- I mean- I-..."

"George..." Matty held their whole world between their teeth.

"Matty..." George held his breath, attempting to settle his head for just a moment. "It's just... fuck- is that why you broke up? God, please don't say that he found out you and me were like... a bit... cuddly and-"

"No." Matty shook their head. "I broke up with him. It didn't feel right anymore. It never really did. I thought I needed him, but I was wrong. I just-... I thought I needed him but I didn't love him- I don't think I ever loved him. You know I'm not good with relationships. I've never been, I-... I guess. I guess it was just easier to put everything into him. To have that one person to fuck, to have that one flat to stay in."

Matty could feel George looking at them like he never had before.

"I'm not the person you thought I was?" Matty raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the sofa.

"I..." George didn't quite know what to make of it. "I feel a bit weird."

"Fucking so do I." Matty let out an entirely falsified laugh. "Come on, you've known me and Charlie have never been good-"

"But I never knew you were together-"

"Why does it matter?" Matty let out a sigh, burying their head in their hands. "Anyway. We're not anymore. Because I used him and he used me. And he threw a fit when I said I was leaving, and tried to kiss me too many times. And I let him. I didn't kiss him back. I just let him kiss me. I kind of wondered how far he'd go if I let him. But then he stormed away and I told him I didn't love him. That I never did. And then he punched the wall. And I wondered what would have happened if I hadn't waited. If I hadn't waited until he was across the room before I said it."

George held his breath for entirely too long. "You think he would have hit you-"

"I don't know." Matty shrugged, attempting to play it off like it was nothing. "It doesn't matter anymore. He didn't. And we're done. It's over."

"I would kill him." The words left George's lips before he could even properly think about them. "If he punched you. If he ever touched you when you didn't want him to. I'd kill him. I'd kill anyone that did."

"Why?" Matty uttered, like the matter was just preposterous.

"Because you deserve better than that." George met their eyes: holding Matty's gaze with a look of pure conviction. "You deserve so much better than that."

Matty felt butterflies in their stomach like it was the first time. Like this was both the end of the world and the very beginning. The beginning of something. Something that mattered. Something with any kind of worth to hold.

"Now what else is it?" George dared to ask, to erase the distant look from Matty's eyes, and bring them back down, away from the mess they'd gotten caught up in, and back down to the sofa, to the gentle brushing of their arms, and their two cups of tea.

"It was... Charlie was my boyfriend." Matty trailed off, their words seeming to hold the weight of the world between their lips. "But I wasn't his." Matty swallowed hard, avoiding George's gaze at all costs. "Funny thing this. I mean, just bear with me, alright? Because I was his girlfriend."

And part of Matty yearned for a reaction, yearned for George to say something, to do something. Something that meant anything. Something that hurt. Something that left any kind of scar at all.

But nothing came. Just silence pressed underneath the weight of heavy thoughts.

"And I..." Matty bit their lip, wondering quite how this could all possibly sound. In the end, they decided that they'd just come too far to care. "I was his girlfriend because I was a girl. Well I thought I was a girl. I'm not anymore. Now... I'm just... between the two, you know? That's what I've always been, just... you know... everyone has all these stupid fucking ideas about gender, and I was really quite desperate to fit into one of two boxes."

Matty swallowed hard, not even daring to imagine just what George might come to think of all of this. "And there was no way that I was a boy. Like... I'm way past that point now. But I guess I finally figured things out, or at least just got the guts to accept them, that I'm just somewhere in the middle, and that I can't do anything about that. And it's stupid and confusing, but honestly I just want to be happy. I don't want to have to pretend anymore."

"So..." George's voice was almost deathly quiet, like he was afraid to even utter a single word. "You're like... genderqueer, like that...? Something like that?"

"Yeah." Matty bit back a smile. "I think... I'm exactly like that."

"Fuck..." George pulled Matty into a hug without a moment's warning. And Matty couldn't hold back a smile any longer as they felt George's strong arms wrapping around them, and the weight of it all, causing them to fall back and end up splayed out across George's lap.

"Hey..." Matty blushed, looking up at George with an almost impossibly warm look in their eyes.

"Hey." George smiled back. "That's okay, you know? More than okay. Perfectly fine. It's wonderful."

"Shut up." Matty flushed an even deeper shade of red. "So... uhh... I'm a 'they', not a 'he', by the way."

"Yeah, of course, that's fine." George assured them, suddenly coming to realise that their arm was still stretched across Matty's chest. And then the both of them were blushing like the idiots they were.

"I mean..." George began to think, letting Matty's gender really begin to sink in. "You were a girl, and I... I called you 'he' throughout that- fuck... I- I'm sorry-"

"It's alright. You didn't know." Matty offered him a smile. "I should have told you. Gemma's been nagging me to tell you since day one basically. And I should have, because you're fine, of course you're fine, you're so stupidly nice to me all the time, even when I'm shit, even when I fuck up, even when I make bad decisions."

"When was... day one?" George dared to ask. "When did this all begin?"

"Well... I was questioning my gender before we even knew each other, when you were just some fucking boy in a coffeeshop." Matty ran a hand back through their hair. "But... I mean, I didn't really come to a proper conclusion about anything until like... I think it was the week I first came up to you, and it was, you know the most awkward conversation ever... by then I like... knew I wasn't a boy but I didn't know what that meant or what to do with it. It was just this thing I was trying to ignore."

"For that long..." George's eyes grew wide. "So I've been misgendering you the whole time I've known you- fucking hell."

"It's not your fault." Matty insisted, shaking their head. "And then I first sort of realised I was a girl when... that night I was at yours, you know when we first became friends, and we were sat up in your room smoking, and then I stormed out and we didn't talk anymore. That was because I just didn't know how to deal with it. You know, because I felt so much more comfortable being feminine, and I still do, just. Like... I'm not a girl, like I'm just... it's like... I'm alright with some aspects of masculinity, like my dick, I think, and I wouldn't want boobs or anything like that. I just... you know I look and feel really good in a skirt, alright?"

"Fuck." George wasn't sure if he was properly breathing anymore. "I want you to feel comfortable around me. Alright? Dress how you want to dress."

"Thanks." Matty gave way to a grin, unable to stop themself from noticing the way George had flushed red. They snorted. "You're thinking about me in a skirt. It's making you blush."

"Matty-" George groaned, willing the situation away, but Matty wasn't having any of it, and instead sat up, facing George directly, and even going as far as to grab him by the wrist.

"I look hot like that. Like really hot." Matty somehow just needed to make sure that George heard this. "You know, full face of makeup, hair done up all pretty, this short little black leather skirt, top just as tight, and heels. Never thought I'd be able to walk in heels, you know? Funny that."

Matty could feel George's pulse racing where their fingers curled in around his wrist.

"Bet you'd love to fuck a girl like that. Bet anyone would. But I'm not that girl anymore. I'm not a girl anymore. I'm not just there. Because I don't need things like that. I don't need fingers around my throat to breathe. I don't need just anyone's fucking hands on me. Because I don't look pretty just to get fucked. I look pretty for me."

Matty finally pulled away, falling back down onto the sofa like they'd never said a single word.

"So I think I'm going to stop fucking random guys now. Properly this time. Like it doesn't count if you pick a vaguely tolerable one with a nice dick and make him your 'boyfriend'. I'm gonna stop. Maybe even get some sense of self-worth and all that? Imagine that."

"Yeah." George did all he could to respond the best he could, pushing words out between shaky breaths. "That's good. I'm glad you're happy." He gave a glance towards the table. "Come on, your tea's gonna get cold if you don't drink it."

Matty sat up and looked at George like they just might never be able to figure him out.

And they sat together in an oddly comfortable silence as Matty tried to desperately reinvent their sense of self, and George desperately tried to conceal the fact that Matty's words alone had gotten him half way hard.

It was pathetic. Stupid. But oddly endearing. And so very them.

-

"Okay so, I kind of don't get what the issue is here..." Adam looked around the room, catching Ross', John's, and George's gazes in turn. "I mean... if Matty isn't a boy then it doesn't make you gay for being like massively in love with them."

"I'm not massively in love with them." George found that to be a point he was more than desperate to prove.

"You are." John deadpanned, rolling his eyes.

"So, yeah, I mean... isn't this... like... shouldn't you basically be over the moon right now?" Adam continued, still unable to quite catch just what had set such a sorry look into George's eyes. It had almost appeared permanent: fixed there over the past two days.

"I just..." George trailed off, shaking his head. "It sounds stupid like properly stupid. It was just... that was this thing, like this thing they were keeping from me, and I don't know, I guess I got stupid enough at one point to begin to let myself think that maybe the thing they didn't want to tell me was that they had a crush on me."

"George, come on." Ross let out a sigh. "You don't think that was the only thing in the world Matty hasn't told you? Look, it's pretty obvious that they like you - don't be ridiculous."

"That's the thing." George let out a groan. "I kind of began to think that for just a while, maybe because they were so affectionate with me, but then... turns out they had a boyfriend. So they weren't treating me like that because-... they had a boyfriend."

"Fucking hell." Adam's eyes grew wide.

"Yeah." George buried his face behind his hands.

"But they've broken up now?" John attempted to inspire George with even the slightest drop of hope.

"Yeah for like forty eight hours." George rolled his eyes.

"Still, they've broken up, and I mean, not to make assumptions but I'd imagine Matty might be a bit more inclined to suddenly make out with you when they're drunk." Ross flashed George a hopeful smile.

"So that's why you invited them to tag along to the party." George rolled his eyes. "Because you want to be right. You want to be able to be smug and be like, yeah, I knew Matty liked you all along-"

"No." John shook his head. "We invited them because we're nice people, George, don't be ridiculous."

Somehow, George couldn't quite bring himself to believe him.

-

They met Matty outside. George wasn't sure he even knew whose party this actually was - it was probably something like the cousin of the girl that Adam sort of vaguely fancied, the one with the blonde hair. George decided he wasn't fussed though.

Really, however, it became very much impossible to fixate on anything at all the very moment Matty showed up, and to be exact, the very moment George laid eyes upon them. And to be even more precise, the knowing smirk Matty tossed him.

"Alright boys?" Matty flashed them a grin, seeming to hold all the confidence in the world.

Adam choked, eyes growing impossibly wide.

John met Matty with a smile. "You look nice."

"Yeah..." George added, very much at a loss for words.

Because there was Matty, stood there like they held the entire world in the palm of their hands. With just the very black leather miniskirt that they'd spoken to George about earlier that week, a white sleeveless shirt, a leather jacket, the very same black heels, their token bright red lipstick, thick black eyeliner wings, and... fucking fishnet tights.

"Not sure if the tights were a bit much but..." Matty gave a shrug. "Don't really care either way, I guess."

Ross snorted. "Alright. Well I want a drink, so I mean, you're more than welcome to stand out here for the next few hours and debate Matty's tights, but I'm going inside."

"Yeah, because I definitely turned up to this party to stand outside and be judged for my fashion choices." Matty rolled their eyes, wrapping their fingers around George's wrist and pulling him inside behind them.

George wasn't sure he'd actually taken a single breath until they were stood on the slightly less crowded side of the house and Matty had pushed a beer into his hands.

"You look like you've lost it." Matty commented, being as blunt as they always were.

George gave way to a self deprecating smile. After all, maybe Matty was right - maybe they had. They didn't offer a response, opening the beer and taking a sip.

"Seriously, are you alright?" Matty offered George a concerned, almost nurturing kind of look, dragging him further away from the crowds.

"Yeah, I'd be fine... if..." George blushed, looking down at Matty's fingers still curled tightly around his wrist.

Matty didn't quite hear him properly over the music and offered a nod in his direction, and downed a shot. "Come on, do you want one? You look like you need to get drunk."

Matty seemed perhaps overly keen to push all the alcohol in the world onto him. George didn't want to think about just what that could possibly mean.

"I don't..." George trailed off, catching Matty's gaze. "You know, I don't really like drinking." And as if to contradict himself entirely, he took a swig of the beer Matty had pushed onto him.

Matty raised an eyebrow.

"Doesn't mean I won't drink a beer in my life, but I don't like getting like blackout drunk, you know?" He couldn't help but blush a little. "So no, I don't really want a shot. I mean, I should be here to look after you when you're so pissed you can't stand."

"Ughh... that's boring." Matty groaned, getting themself that second shot instead. "I want you to get drunk with me."

"And why's that?" George felt a sudden pang in his chest.

"You'd have to get drunk to find out." Matty hit him with a smirk, pursing their lips slightly.

George glanced behind him, looking back across the room for any sign of his friends, for any sign of reason, for anyone to tell him not to.

But he found nothing at all.

"Would I?" He met Matty with a similar smirk. "Would you say it'd be worth it?"

"I don't know..." Matty trailed off, biting their lip as they twirled a finger through their hair. "Guess you'd have to judge that one for yourself."

George grinned, reaching for the shot. "I guess I will."

And George let Matty get him drunk in the end.

Because fuck reason and fuck common sense. Matty fucking Healy was wearing fucking fishnets.

And he wished so desperately he could have the confidence to talk to them about that, and perhaps even the things it did to him. The things they did to him. The things George strived so very hard to keep out of his head. But he couldn't, in fact, all he had to say for himself was a desperate smile and cheeks flushed bright red, and that just wasn't terribly attractive at all.

-

"You're drunk." Matty laughed and grinned and giggled like it was the best thing they'd ever seen. Eyes grown wide and bright as if they wanted to absorb George directly into their soul. And partly, that had to be true.

"So are you." George laughed, pointing a figure accusingly at Matty sat beside him. He'd let Matty drag him off after the first drink, and they'd ended up upstairs, on an old abandoned sofa in a room they were just about entirely sure that they weren't supposed to be in. But at that point, they just didn't care.

"Yeah, but you're drunk." Matty popped the word between their lips with entirely too much emphasis, almost ironically leaving George unable to focus on anything beside the movement of their lips.

"So...?" George trailed off, blushing the colour of the lipstick stain Matty had left on their glass. George wanted them to turn his whole world that stark dramatic shade of red.

"You've had like two drinks." Matty got up from the sofa and began to wander across the room. It wasn't particularly big, and didn't seem to serve much more purpose than to store unwanted belongings in, with a tatty rug spread across the floor, and the old abandoned sofa pushed against the back wall.

"You've had like six." George followed Matty's movements with his eyes. "It's been like six minutes. You're... too drunk." He shook his head, almost protective over Matty despite his current state, and the fact that Matty was blatantly twice as sober as him.

"You're like six times as drunk as me, though." Matty snorted, making their way over to an old bookcase that had been pushed against the furthest corner of the room. They ran their fingers over the spines of the book, wiping a layer of dust off as they did so.

George wasn't paying attention. He was staring at Matty's legs.

They were skinny, and so pale they were almost the colour of milk, and stretched upwards underneath fishnet tights as Matty reached towards a particular book seeming to have caught their attention.

"I can feel that." Matty snapped across the room: liquid confidence already beginning to set in. Finally, they reached up and retrieved a book that had been set down on the top shelf.

"What?" George flushed a bright shade of red.

"You staring at me." Matty turned around, meeting George with purpose and perhaps even bitterness. Whatever it was, it gave George chills - right down to his bones.

"I-... sorry..." George murmured, burying his face behind his can of beer, before setting it back down on the floor.

Matty turned their attention back down to the book they'd picked off the top shelf. An uncomfortable smile slipped over the face, sparking George's curiosity - if he hadn't been already shitting himself as it was, he would have gotten up and had a look at just what it was.

"Whose party is this?" Matty looked up, meeting George with an almost troubled look in their eyes, putting their whole world onto their lip and pulling it apart between their teeth.

George shrugged. "Why?" He leaned closer. "What is that?"

"A yearbook." Matty finally supplied, running their fingers back over the cover, as if they didn't quite dare to open it.

George just stared at Matty for a moment: just moments away from catching on.

"It's my school, my year-" Matty finally let out a sigh.

George's eyes grew wide. "Give us a look." His face lit up with glee.

Matty hit him with a distasteful glare, but tossed the yearbook into George's lap regardlessly.

George watched him for a moment, almost just as hesitant to open the cover. "You don't want me to look?"

"I looked a state at sixteen I'm telling you that." Matty rolled their eyes, wishing desperately for another drink, but they didn't want to leave George, not even for a minute.

"Yeah, but you look like... this..." He gestured across at Matty. "Now."

Matty bit their lip. "Alright."

And then as George took the yearbook into his hands, Matty followed it and threw themself down into George's lap. Perhaps even catching the both of them by surprise.

"Hey..." George giggled, attempting to steady his heartbeat as Matty shuffled about on his lap, trying to get comfortable.

"You can tell me to fuck off if you want." Matty stopped him for a moment, before leaning back into George's chest. As they received no response, they took the initiative to slot their head under George's.

If George was being entirely honest with himself, he didn't think he'd have the breath to protest even if he'd wanted to.

"You're alright." He managed to assure them in the end.

"Alright?" Matty raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"More than alright." George agreed, feeling his cheeks heat up as Matty began to flick through the book.

"Really, whose party is this?" They let out a groan. "I don't think I've spoken to anyone from school since I've left. Might be a bit awkward that we're just invading all the rooms in their house. And then suddenly I'm here in a fucking skirt."

"And going through their shit." George added, cracking a smile. Matty, however seemed to be past the point of caring by now.

"I look so bad in this." Matty turned to the year-group photo and pointed themself out.

George's eyes grew wide. "Oh... wow-"

"Come on, George, tell me. Tell me how ugly I was." Matty rolled their eyes, pouting a little way as they snapped the book shut and threw it back across the room. It fell to the floor with an unpleasant bang.

"That's not what I meant." George's tone grew stern, absent-mindedly curling his fingers around Matty's side.

Matty's breaths grew shaky under the pressure of George's fingertips. He was hardly holding them very tightly at all, but he was holding them, and that was more than enough.

"If you say so..." Matty's confidence dwindled at the seams: fading out into breathy sighs and shaking fingers.

"Mmm..." George gave a nod, even in his current state, noticing the sudden change in Matty's demeanour. "You should go put that back." He pointed, gesturing to the yearbook.

"What?" Matty rolled their eyes. "So you can stare at my thighs as I stretch to put it back up there again?" They didn't stick around longer enough to gauge any kind of response.

George was left to watch wordlessly as Matty picked the book back up and shoved it messily on the bottom shelf.

"I don't dress like this to be stared at, you know?" It was apparent that Matty had snapped the very moment they turned back around to face George.

George swallowed - this was the last thing he'd wanted Matty to think. "I'm sorry-"

"Okay, it's a short skirt. Okay, maybe the tights were a bit much, but-... I can fucking wear what I want." Matty bit their lip, meeting George with a distant kind of look in their eyes, like they were finally seeing the person they'd wanted to, but had came to realise that the person they'd first took George to be just wasn't the person they wanted at all.

"I know. I'm sorry." George groaned, stretching out against the sofa. "I don't mean to stare. I just... I'm drunk and I can't help myself."

"Yeah, way to sound like a fucking creep there, George." Matty rolled their eyes, sitting themself back down beside George. He sat there reflecting the way his lap felt empty without Matty there in it.

"Fuck- I'm sorry." George cursed, turning Matty with a desperate look in his eyes. "Nothing I'm saying is coming out right."

Matty shrugged. "It's just shit because I can't work out if it's because, god forbid, I'm wearing a skirt, and you're staring at me like I'm something in a zoo or a fucking circus or something-" They caught their breath. "Or if you're staring at me because you think I actually look good."

"It's the second one." George offered him a smile.

But Matty didn't look convinced. At all.

The room remained silent for a good minute, before Matty curled their fingers back around George's wrist and pulled him up after them.

"Come on. I don't think we're drunk enough yet."

George knew that couldn't be true, but he wasn't stupid enough to believe that he could possibly convince Matty otherwise. It was their night, it was up to them what became of George, and how the night could possibly come to an end.

-

George ended up behind a locked bathroom door in the end. With his back pressed up against the wall and his head spinning, seeing the world with colours he hadn't before even been able to imagine.

Part of him wasn't entirely sure as to how he'd really got there. With the bathroom wall digging into his back, and his hands tightly gripped in dark curly hair, and perfect lips wrapped tightly around his cock.

Reality fazed back in and out, and he seemed to close his eyes and open them several minutes later. He was beyond drunk. Beyond messed up. But beyond pleased with himself. Because he didn't care how much he'd had to drink with those lips around his cock, and the whole world seeming to curl in on the two of them.

He wondered just how many drinks Matty had given him. Just how drunk Matty had wanted him to get. He considered Matty's intentions as he threw his gaze down to the dark curls beneath him, and bright lips stretched almost obscenely wide as his cock almost disappeared under them.

George made a guttural kind of moaning sound as he came, and then eyes flashed upwards to meet him.

But he didn't see the face he wanted to at all.

It all came back to him then.

A girl, with dark hazel eyes, dark pink lipstick. A pretty face, but prettier curls. She looked the part. But realisation hit him like a slap to the face.

It hurt to sober up like that. So all of a sudden, especially from where he'd been, with his head spaced out somewhere else entirely, as his hands grasping for ones to hold, but this girl looked anything but keen to curl her fingers in around his wrist.

He felt a bit sick if he was being honest with himself, but George knew that it couldn't help her self-confidence if he proceeded to promptly throw up the very moment she finished sucking him off. But he was drunk, after all. So very drunk. If Matty had thought he'd lost it before, he definitely had now.

The girl just looked at George for a minute, like she expected that he might kiss her again, or maybe get her off too, and as much as George liked to think that he respected women, there was no chance in hell that she was getting that from him in the state he was in.

She rolled her eyes at him as she let herself out, fading out amidst the sea of people outside the bathroom door. Part of George wondered if he should have felt guilty, especially with the fact that he was just nothing more than relieved to finally see her go.

He pulled his jeans back up and slid down beside the toilet, groaning for a second, before turning his head and throwing up what felt like the entire contents of not just his stomach, but his chest, into the toilet bowl.

George knew he looked a state. But he was drunk. And it was fucking Matty's fault, and everything fucking sucked. Because he loved them. Of course he did. But it just wasn't helping him at all as he sat there, the sorriest he'd ever been, reaching to flush his own sick down the toilet as he began to cry.

He took a moment to vaguely remind himself that this was the exact reason why he didn't get drunk. But he knew it was hopeless. He'd destroy the whole world if Matty looked at him like that and asked him to.

It was just when George wondered if he might sit there forever that the bathroom door was pushed open and a rather startled looking Ross made his way in, judging George with all he had left. And really, as much as George hated it with everything he had, he was just so very thankful that it had been Ross and not just some random guy.

"Are you... alright?" Ross shut the door behind them, taking in George's appearance with a bewildered kind of look in his eyes.

"No." George exclaimed, letting out a groan. "I'm really not."

"You're drunk." Ross sat down beside him. "Like... really drunk."

"Yeah." George buried his face in his hands. "Matty." Was all he could offer up in the form of explanation.

"Matty." Ross repeated, shaking his head. "I don't imagine you got anywhere, did you?"

"No." George groaned, throwing his head back against the wall. "Where's Matty? I miss them. Hey, I'd one hundred percent want to die less if you found them for me."

"They've gone." Ross trailed off, biting his lip. "Home. They said."

"Why?" George hit him with a distant kind of worried look.

"Because... well... they never really said. But Adam saw you go off with some girl, so let's be real, it was probably that." Ross shook his head. "Well done, you fucking idiot."

"Can you tell him I'm sorry?" George pleaded. "Call him or something, please-"

"George, just-" Ross let out a sigh, growing almost tired of dealing with Matty and George's ridiculous feelings for each other. "Talk to him tomorrow, alright? Maybe then you can talk about just why you went off with some girl."

"Worst blowjob of my life..." George trailed off, burying his head in his hands.

"Jesus Christ, George, she-"

"It was horrible." He insisted, feeling so very sorry for himself.

"Well, George, it was a blowjob I'm struggling to imagine that it was exactly very unpleasant-"

"It wasn't Matty, though. It wasn't fucking Matty. It wasn't them."

And Ross just didn't know what he was going to do with him at all.

-

Matty was crying by the time they finally got home.

Their head hurt and they wanted to be sick.

It was dark. Too dark just to be evening anymore, and Matty wanted to collapse as soon as they could.

But in the brief minute between the slamming of the door behind them, and them wandering tentatively up the stairs, the landing light was switched on.

Matty felt blinded, rubbing the makeup from their eyes as they attempted to shelter their vision, blinking rapidly as they managed to make out a figure from across the hall.

"Matty...?" Louis' voice was soft, and so cautious that Matty was worried he might break.

"Hmm...?" Matty groaned as they met Louis' gaze. "What's... it's late. You should be in bed."

"You should have got home hours ago." Louis told him plainly, still quite struggling to take in Matty's appearance.

"And what? You're my fucking mum now?" Matty raised their voice slightly, still far too drunk, as they looked at Louis with an odd kind of almost disgust.

"Shut up or you're going to wake both mum and dad up." Louis snapped, his tone sterner than Matty could have ever expected it to be. "And then you'll have to explain to both of them just what you're doing coming home at two a.m. in a skirt."

Matty's heart dropped right to the floor.

"Fuck." They groaned, leaning back against the wall.

"Yeah." Louis let out a sigh, not even daring to imagine just what had gotten Matty into this kind of state.

"I'm really drunk, Lou." Matty groaned, burying their face in their hands.

"I've gathered." Louis rolled his eyes, glancing between Matty and their bedroom door. "Do you want me to get you something or are you alright to just go to sleep by yourself?"

"Some painkillers. Please." Matty sighed; Louis met Matty with a smile that they knew they didn't deserve, before slipping off downstairs.

They pushed open their bedroom door and stumbled inside, not quite daring to face themself in the mirror for even just a moment. Instead, Matty just set their phone on to charge and did their best to rub their makeup off without facing their reflection, before throwing their clothes off onto floor until they were just left in the shirt - oversized, and falling down over their thighs.

Matty let out a groan, forcing themself into bed, and just laid there, trying to physically will away their headache until Louis got back.

A minute later, he set a glass of water and a couple of paracetamol down onto the nightstand. Louis couldn't help but linger a while longer, watching as Matty downed the pills and seemed to make a point of looking even more like they just wanted to fade away and die.

"We should probably talk about it in the morning." Louis commented, watching Matty's eyes shoot open.

"Talk about what?" Matty met him with wide eyes, and cheeks burning red.

"The skirt." Louis let out a sigh.

"It's just a fucking skirt." Matty groaned, burying their head into the pillow.

"It's not, though. Is it?" Louis gave way to a sigh, waiting for a response, but past the minute mark, he deemed it a lost cause and instead made his way to the door.

"Night, Lou." Matty stopped him, slurring words out against the pillow: eyes pulled firmly shut.

"Night, Matty." He added, before closing the door behind him and leaving Matty to their thoughts, and the blurry convoluted recollection of the night to play out in their mind until the very end of time.

-

"It's not just a skirt."

Matty walked into Louis' room come ten the next morning.

Louis offered them a knowing look and gestured for them to sit down.

"Everything's a bit of a mess, really." Matty gave way to a sigh as they sat themselves down beside Louis on the end of his bed. "I mean, when's it not, but-..." They fell away into a sigh.

"But you need to talk about it?" Louis did his best to fill in the gaps, meeting Matty with a careful, almost hesitant expression.

"Probably, yeah..." Matty fell back against the bed, letting their hair fall out in a mess around them as the morning set in.

"My gender's a bit fucked." Matty reckoned it was as good a place to start as any.

Louis raised his eyebrows a little, but gave nothing more in the way of a response, leaving the room to fall back into silence.

"Sorry..." Matty gave way to a sigh. "I should stop swearing around you so much. It's a bad influence. I don't want to be that kind of..." Matty stopped themself - the word 'brother' dissipating away into the air before they could quite reach for it.

"Don't worry about it." Louis assured Matty, meeting them with a smile. "Now what's this about your gender...?" The words seemed to bear a physical weight upon his lips.

"It's kind of complicated and all over the place, but then again, I guess I am too. I guess it fits in that way at least." Matty bit their lip: wondering just how they ought to phrase it. "So like... gender... gender's weird, and it's been... very much on my mind for the past few months, and I've been dealing with it, and really struggling to do so. And like... I'm not like... a boy, you know? Like..."

Matty couldn't help but glance across, trying to gauge Louis' reaction.

"So... you're a girl...?" Louis' eyes grew wide, taking in Matty with an almost overwhelmed look upon his face. And really, admittedly, it was quite a lot to take in, but it didn't help their confidence at all.

"No." Matty shook their head, letting out a sigh. "I thought I was. For like... for a while. But... I'm like... I'm like in the middle. Like, genderqueer, if you want to put a name on it. And that's... not the most widely accepted thing, I know, and I, it kind of makes me uncomfortable, because there is this part of me that feels like it's not something I can actually identify with, but it is, and nothing else quite fits."

"Okay..." Louis trailed off, sitting and thinking for a moment. "I did wonder if there was something up, you know?"

"Course you did." Matty snorted, because Louis was just growing unbelievable at this point.

"How do... like... are you my brother or... like... how do I refer to you? How do you want me to? I'm sorry." Louis blushed a little, watching Matty stare up at the ceiling a little while longer.

"You can... you can call me your brother if you want. But, I'm not, not really. I'm just your sibling, I guess. I don't know, but you can call me your brother. If it makes things easier." Matty bit their lip.

"But it's not about what makes things easy for me." Louis thought for a moment. "It's about what makes you feel comfortable, isn't it?"

Matty shrugged. "You can call me your brother if you want. But, like... call me 'they' not 'he'. Is that alright?" Louis gave a nod. "It's alright if you fuck up, you know? Like... it's all a bit messy, and don't worry about it. Just don't like... don't mention anything around mum and dad."

"You're not going to tell them?" Louis raised his eyebrows.

Matty let out a groan. "I don't know. Not yet. Maybe in the future. I'm really, I'm really not entirely comfortable with it all yet."

"But you told me."

"You deserved to know, really." Matty pulled his lips out into a thin smile. "You put up with me last night, and always, and I'm terrible, I'm the worst sibling, and I think you deserve to at least know why. What's going on that's causing all of this."

"Can I ask where you were last night then?" Louis bit his lip. "Not to sound too like mum, I'm just... curious."

"Party." Matty supplied, feeling physically lighter now that the matter of gender had been taken off their chest. As much as they knew it was a good thing, it couldn't help but make them feel just that little bit sick.

"I wasn't planning on going, it was this thing with George's mates, and they're nice, they're actually lovely, but I felt a bit like they just invited me because they felt awkward. But I've kind of fucked up things with me and Gemma again, so I mean, I didn't have anything better to do with my Friday night, so I went along in the end."

"Who's George?" Louis looked up: all bright eyes, and perhaps still too much innocence for Matty to really be telling him the entire truth.

"Fuck, have I not-" Matty groaned, burying their head in their hands. "George."

"No, you've not told me about him." Louis watched them for a moment - it didn't take him any longer to gather that George was definitely someone important.

"He's... I first met him when he came into the coffeeshop, and then he was at Gemma's party, and we talked about things and smoked a bit, and then... things just... I'm like sort of in love with him, or something."

"Oh." Louis' eyes grew wide. "What about... Charlie?"

"I broke up with Charlie." Matty supplied: not quite daring to tell him the rest.

"Oh..." Louis repeated.

"Yeah." Matty fell into a sigh. "But George is beautiful. Like... inside and out. He's just beautiful. And already it feels so much more than what I had with Charlie."

"Does he know you like him?" Louis really had never expected to wake up that morning and attempt to give Matty awkward relationship advice, but there they were.

"I don't know. I haven't told him, but I don't think I've really tried to hide it. It's just..." Matty trailed off. "I don't know if I want to... like... be with him. I'm scared to fuck it up... and I just don't know."

"But if you love him-"

"He's straight, and he's only started looking at me differently since I started being comfortable with my gender and presenting more feminine around him. And I'm not going to let him pretend I'm a girl, or anything, because I'm not. And last night, at this fucking party, he went off with some girl. So he obviously isn't that concerned about me. And it's like, he might be the most beautiful person I've ever seen, but I don't want to let people use me anymore."

"Why would he use you?" Louis struggled to quite take in the situation.

"Because I let people use me. Sort of subconsciously. And I know I do, and I can hardly stop myself. And... I've got... this... trust in George... it's kind of terrifying really. If he told me he'd love me if I cut off my own arms, I think I might."

Matty drew a shaky breath. "I'm a bit fucked, honestly."

"Like... with Charlie... things... got kind of bad. Like when everything finally ended, and I finally knew I had to stop it, I kind of came to realise that I just couldn't keep letting people treat me like that anymore. That I couldn't just give my whole world to the first boy who called me pretty." Matty broke out in a shaky kind of nervous laughter. "Like... I think George is different, but..."

"But?" Louis watched Matty: eyes wide.

"I think that about every boy I've ever laid eyes upon." They let out a sigh.

"So you don't want to be with him?" Louis met them with a look of confusion.

"I don't know." Matty gave way to a sigh. "I'm just not going to give him everything just because he asked nicely."

"You want to make sure he's different?" Louis suggested. "See that he's proved that before you consider it?"

"Yeah." Matty smiled. "I think so."

"And part of me thinks that's utterly stupid, that if George likes me back then I've got to just go for that, because I thought it might never happen, but..."

Matty sank their teeth into their bottom lip: drawing the whole world in and out through a single breath.

"But honestly, I think it's the only sensible idea I've ever had."

-

hey guys

hope u enjoyed this mess

i love this mess

i love u

pls vote an comment would make my life like

proper

like

do it

please