By this point, it was hardly even surprising when George woke up and found himself lying in bed next to Matty.

After all this time, it had just sort of become a them thing. Nothing they could quite ever explain, but yet, nothing they ever really felt a pressing need to.

George was hesitant to wake Matty - who looked so peaceful and content with the world and everything in it - as they lay curled up into his side, with dark curls falling across their face, shading their sleeping eyes from the early morning sun. He struggled out of Matty's grasp, taking care not to wake them, and sat himself up underneath the window.

He sat and considered the moment for a while. How Matty's house, Matty's bedroom, Matty's bed, could feel so much like home. And then, how he really should have left last night, before they got too tired and too comfortable with each other to even consider common sense.

He wondered how long this could last - this feigned innocence, this quiet, subdued hope for something more. How long they'd last like this, in still early mornings, sharing secrets in each other's beds, holding smiles dear long after they had faded.

George wouldn't call himself a pessimist, or even a realist, just someone who's been through life, through relationships, through close early mornings that had meant the world, but had lived enough to eventually see them all fade. He couldn't doubt that much the same wouldn't come for the two of them in the end. That one day this would stop. And there'd be a last time. A mess no amount of apologies could cover.

It was quite a harrowing thought for seven forty eight in the morning, but still, George couldn't help himself. Much as he couldn't help his eyes from clinging to Matty's sleeping form: soft, and content, with pale skin, illuminated in the sunlight, and the slight twitch of a smile upon their lips - soft, content, and beautiful.

By eight o'clock, Matty had stirred too, shooting George a disapproving glance, before settling themself firmly into his lap, and stealing his cigarette right from his fingertips. George didn't even pretend to mind.

They exchanged hazy compliments, and half-hearted insults, speaking only in soft, hushed whispers, that seemed to act as the posterchildren for love, for easy mornings, for the good life. Something all so out of reach.

And in the morning air, in each other's warmth, Matty and George sat there, still, quiet, and in love, but in search of much more pressing secrets to keep, in search of anything they might once be able to hide from each other. The situation demanded no answers, no explanation, because love was not a question, love was not a demand, love was not a hushed whisper, love was not the early morning sun, love was not the two of them and what the rest of the world might think.

Love just was. Beyond everything else, right through their skin, and down to their bones, there was love, tying them together, as if they had just always been the two opposite ends of the same piece of string.

But the sun rose. As it always would, and the morning settled in around them with an unforgiving kind of permanence and sincerity, and Matty blinked harshly: hesitant to take in the stark colours of their bedroom walls. The birds stopped singing, and the quiet faded out around them - the world woke up, with kitchen sounds from downstairs, and Matty sat there, heart-racing, hating the notion of dealing with the day.

"I..." George dragged his words out slowly: tentative whispers ready to get lost up in a cloud of smoke. "I... should probably like... leave, shouldn't I?"

Matty knew it was true. Matty knew George was right; he had such a knack of being so. But still, they didn't say a word. Instead, they sat and pulled at the hem of their t-shirt, before moving to pick at a scab on their knee.

George moved his hand over to Matty's, pulling their fingers away. "Don't pick at it." He chided, almost maternally.

Matty threw him a face, setting their back against George's chest, and losing the moment in a drag of their cigarette - well, George's cigarette, as it had originally been.

"Yeah." Matty eventually found the words, struggling to compensate with overconfidence, and the treasured notion that this was all simple and easy. "You probably should."

"Yeah." George gave a nod, but instead sat and thought about how much he really didn't want to.

"Still, I don't really see anyway to go about it, without it being... well... awkward, because we're not fucking fifteen, and I'm not fucking sneaking you out of the house. But still, mum's going to be a bit weird about it, and Louis' going to be sat there, trying not to fucking piss himself."

George snorted, growing quite a fondness for Matty's little brother. "He reminds me of you, you know?"

"What?" Matty raised their eyebrows. "By being a fucking dickhead?"

"Yeah." George ran his fingers back through Matty's hair. "Exactly."

Matty drew their lips out into a pout, and pressed back into George's touch. They finished their cigarette, and practiced sitting there, looking flippant: wondering quite what could come of the day.

They didn't quite get chance to wonder for awfully very long. As within the minute, Matty's bedroom door was pushed open.

"Matty, you-" Denise stopped dead in her tracks, blinking slowly, as she fixated her gaze on the sight before her.

Matty thought about maybe getting out of George's lap, but instead just waited for her to finish. It was too late now anyway; she'd already seen them. George just blushed, hiding his face as he put out his cigarette.

"Uhh..." Denise found herself rather lost for what to say, and really, you couldn't much blame her; this was perhaps the last situation she expected to wake up to that morning.

"Matty." She eventually found her words, looking once more between Matty and George, before settling her gaze onto them. "Would you perhaps, care to explain?"

Matty gave a shrug, doing all they could to sit there, feigning nonchalance, as they sat there, shitting themself on the inside. "This is George." They motioned, prodding their index finger into George's forearm.

"Uh..." George's cheeks grew to a rather revealing shade of pink. "Hi... sorry... about..." George trailed off, quickly coming to realise that he hadn't the slightest clue as to what he was really apologising for.

Denise let out a sigh, finding that there was a whole world she could scream at the two of them, but found that the sum of what she actually did say, was just nothing at all. "Well, Matty, you've got work in an hour, so I think maybe you should consider getting out of bed, don't you think?"

"Yeah..." Matty frowned, biting their lip. "Probably..."

Denise finally turned instead to George. "You're welcome to stay for breakfast, by the way. I can imagine there's quite a bit to talk about."

And with that, she closed the door behind them.

The two sat in an almost empty silence, listening to the sounds of the house around them. To Matty's mum making her way back downstairs, and the slight muffled remains of conversation that reached the first floor, followed, eventually by the sound of the front door slamming shut, and Matty's dad leaving for work.

"Fucking hell." Matty choked out, finally finding it within themself to get up out of bed, and stumble across their bedroom.

"Well, that was interesting." George buried his head in his hands.

Matty scoffed, pulling their hair back out of their face, and securing it up into a bun. "One way to put it."

"How much do you think your mum wants to kill me?" George asked, just looking for a vague estimate, as he reached for his phone, texting his own mother to explain that he'd spent the night at a friend's house, and that he was sorry, and that she shouldn't bother with filing a missing person's report.

Matty gave way to a smile. "It's me she wants to kill. She's going to be fine to you, I can assure you of that. There's no way you can leave before I go to work."

George laughed, meeting Matty with an understanding smile. "Course. Absolutely."

"I think she's just... I don't know... not angry. Just confused, more than anything else. I mean, she walks in and finds me in bed, sat half-naked with some random guy she's never seen before in her life, she's... she's going to be confused."

"Sorry..." George blushed: unable to help himself.

"Not your fault." Matty assured him, pulling on a pair of jeans, as they faced their reflection in the mirror. "I mean, I can't blame her really. She's probably gonna sit me down, like, so what's happening with you and George? And I'm going to have to sit there and say, sorry mum, but I've not got a fucking clue."

George managed a small laugh, getting out of bed, and joining Matty in front of the mirror. "That doesn't... that... doesn't worry you, does it?" His voice was tentative, not quite daring to meet Matty's reflection as he fixed his hair.

"No." Matty's response was instant. "No, because it doesn't... it's not like I don't know what's happening. It's just..." Matty trailed off, pulling a jumper on over the top of yesterday's shirt - they probably should have changed it, but they didn't much reckon that the situation called for them taking their shirt off.

"An us thing." Matty declared, meeting George's reflection in the mirror. "I know what's going on. We know, what's going on, don't we?" George gave a nod. "Just not... not really in a way that I can put into words - I haven't quite got that far yet."

"Yeah..." George gave a nod. "Tell her what you like, though. I don't mind. Whatever makes it easier for you to deal with, alright? I don't want to cause you any more hassle-"

"George." Matty looked up at him like he was being obscene. "You've never caused me the slightest bit of hassle in my entire fucking life."

"Shut up." George insisted: cheeks burning red.

-

At the very least, Louis had already left for school by the time the two of them made their way downstairs.

Regardless of that, however, Denise still met them with a challenging look the very moment they traipsed into the kitchen. At least wearing more clothes than they had been before, but still managing to look equally as dishevelled. In earnest, they looked awfully post-coeital for two people who had never so much as kissed. And that really wasn't helping their case.

"Morning..." Matty managed, stretching their arms out up behind them as they reached for a mug, putting the kettle on to boil. "Do you want some tea, George?"

Matty, however, had grabbed a second mug before he could even open his mouth. George turned pink, and stared at the ground, feeling Denise's gaze boring right into his skin.

"So..." She let out a sigh, pouring herself a glass of water. "Did you specifically wait for everyone else to leave before you came downstairs? Or was it just chance?" Her tone almost seemed comedic: slightly amused more than anything else. That didn't half catch George by surprise.

"Just dad." Matty was shocking honest, stirring the two mugs of tea excessively. "I'm not fussed about what Louis has to say."

"Are you fussed about what I have to say?" She continued to inquire, watching the two carefully as Matty handed George his mug of tea, and they sat down at the kitchen table - again, far too close to each other for the gesture to be accidental.

"Depends what it is." Matty concluded, shooting a glance across at George, attempting to gauge just how he was taking the situation, before continuing. "I mean, doesn't much matter, does it? Doesn't look like I can avoid what you have to say."

"Honestly." Denise let out a sigh, taking a seat opposite the two. "I don't know what I have to say."

"Oh..." Matty met George's gaze. "I don't have much to say either, you know- so maybe that's fine, we'll just all get on and like-"

"I'm not going to just ignore this." Denise rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me it's not my business, I know you're an adult now, but I'm still your mum, and I'm just a bit... confused... what's going on?"

"Funny thing is, I'm a bit confused as well." Matty stretched their arms out across the table. "Don't know what's going on. Don't know what to say."

"Matty-"

"Yeah, whatever, I'm going for a piss." Matty declared, getting up from the table, shooting George a brief, apologetic glance, before rushing off to try and put their shit together in the safety of the bathroom.

Denise watched them go, before slowly turning her gaze towards George, who seemed to fit the definition of out of place, drumming his fingers anxiously against the handle of his mug.

"George..." She let out a sigh, holding his gaze for just a brief moment. "I'm sorry, this is... a bit... uncomfortable, isn't it? And... look... I'm just- he's alright, isn't he? Like... I don't need to be worried about him, do I?"

George pulled his lips up into a smile, rendered a little uncomfortable about her use of pronouns regarding Matty, but of course, she was entirely unaware, and it certainly wasn't George's place to change that.

"Matty's fine. Generally fine. You know... ups and downs. We all have them. But... I mean, you ought to be a bit worried, just naturally, you know... but there's nothing... I think, if anything, Matty's generally getting better now."

Denise managed a smile, watching George with a newfound respect in her eyes. "He must trust you an awful lot, for you to be able to say all that with confidence. You know, I don't think anyone in the world has the slightest clue what's going on in his head."

George blushed, hiding his gaze. "Sure, Matty keeps things secret, but not... overly so. Matty just reveals more in... gestures, I think, than in words." He paused, wondering how best to properly articulate what he had to say. "Like... you know, Matty's not gonna... sit and tell you, they're feeling sh-... bad, like... you've got to... kind of figure that out for yourself."

"Truthfully." Denise admitted, voice quieter than before. "I've never been very good at reading him. I feel so stupid for it, being his mother and all, but I've never quite been sure of what's going on in his head."

George smiled. "Matty likes that, though. I think. Keeping it private." He paused for a moment. "And yeah, that's worrying and unhelpful, and the worst thing in the world half the time, but then... it's just... I guess it just means so much more when... Matty sits down and finally tells you what's going on. Like you know... it's the truth, and you know it's important."

"And he trusts you." It didn't take much to assume. "Doesn't he?" She cracked a smile. "So if you're telling me I shouldn't be too worried, then I guess I'm going to have to believe that."

George gave way to a grin. "I guess you are."

Denise listened for the slamming of the bathroom door, and changed promptly changed the subject. "Still, I would quite like to know just who you are, how you two know each other, how you ended up... in his bed, this morning."

"I just..." George flushed a bright red. "It's not anything... dodgy, honestly." He pulled his gaze away from hers. "Just... I came over last night and we were sat watching a movie and we accidentally fell asleep, you know? I really didn't mean to cause any trouble."

"You're not." She assured him, finding that despite her first assumptions, she was growing to quite like George. "I just... I know it's a bit-... and really, I don't know what I'm talking about, but just you two... this morning... you're... you're not his boyfriend are you?"

George choked on his tea, eyes growing wide, the word 'boyfriend' seeming to carve itself into his chest, forever resonating around his head. "No." He insisted, cheeks burning red, making a desperate attempt to bury them behind his cup of tea.

Denise laughed, but found herself breathing a little easier at least. It wasn't that she didn't like the idea of Matty having a boyfriend, it was just that it wasn't something she reckoned that she was at all prepared to deal with so early in the morning.

Soon enough, Matty appeared back in the doorway, rummaging through the fridge and pulling out a yoghurt, reaching for a spoon, before sitting themself back down next to George - perhaps even closer than they had been before.

"Talking about me while I was gone, I presume." Matty didn't hesitate in jumping to conclusions.

"Only good things." George met them with a smile, and Matty rolled their eyes, sitting back in their chair, cheeks turning pink.

"Alright. Whatever." They declared, resting their head into the palm of their hand: doing all they could to hide such an awfully telling blush.

"We're talking about George, now, actually." Denise corrected them, turning her attention back to George. "I just asked him about how you two met, you know?"

"Bit of an interesting story, actually..." Matty trailed off. "I mean, well not interesting, maybe just convoluted. First saw him because he used to come into the coffeeshop all time, then decided he got sick of me, or whatever-"

"I didn't." George interrupted them: desperate to make a point of that.

"Whatever." Matty grinned, folding their arms across their chest. "So... then I kind of missed him a bit, he came in all the time, you know? Like everyday, was a bit weird when he just stopped. Idiot, got his life together, though, didn't he? And stopped procrastinating so much, but anyway. Like a few weeks later or something, we meet again at a party, and it's like... oh wow it's you. And it's like... sort of like immediately... you know when you like click with someone, it was like that. And then there was this whole other mess with me being a dickhead, but let's not get into that, because everything's alright now."

"Everything's alright now." Denise repeated, unable to stop herself from fixating the way Matty's smile wouldn't leave their face when they spoke about George.

"Yeah." Matty gave way to a smile. "Think so, anyway."

George caught sight of the clock on the wall, nudging Matty, and gesturing towards it. "We should probably get going, shouldn't we?"

"Yeah." Matty agreed, getting to their feet, despite the fact that they really didn't have to leave for work for another fifteen minutes. And George knew it too.

"Nice to meet you." George met Denise with a smile, before following Matty out of the kitchen and towards the front door.

She simply returned the smile, raising her eyebrows as she caught sight of the time: knowing all too well that Matty certainly didn't have to be in this early, but still, she reckoned she'd questioned too much for that morning as it was. She was already stuck with quite the headache.

Despite the early start, Matty was late for work in the end, having spent far too long, walking around with George, talking shit, and smoking until they both had really run out of cigarettes.

And as Matty left for work, and George was about to turn away, he got this awful feeling in the pit of his stomach, like he was ought to kiss them. Like he more than ought to, like he wanted to. Like that, despite the stigma he'd built it up with, they might just be a them thing too.

But they'd had made too much of a mess for that morning as it was, and George simply departed with a smile, Matty's lips cursing his mind instead as he watched them go.

George was late for college, too. Ross didn't half glare at him as he stumbled into class, twenty minutes late, looking rather dishevelled and out of breath, and still, unreasonably pleased with himself.

Ross even thought about asking, regarding just what had happened the night before, when George sat himself down next to him. But instead came to conclude that maybe he just didn't want to know.

-

It was Adam who eventually caved: growing tired of George's quiet and almost elusive demeanour throughout the course of the day.

They were sat outside, as much hidden from general view as they could manage; John had been working on some last minute homework, and George had sat there smoking, having gotten to his third cigarette by the time Adam snapped.

"George, mate, what the fuck is going on?" He put it rather bluntly: deeming the situation not to be much for eloquence.

Ross and John shared a look - all wide eyed and dreading; it didn't take much to figure that Ross had relayed what little information he knew to John. George wasn't sure whether that bothered him or not.

"What do you mean?" He bit his lip, voice muffled and generally unenthused, as he kicked the dirt with the toe of his boots.

"With you." Adam raised his voice, growing immediately rather impatient. "With you turning up late, and acting all weird, and quiet, and smoking half a pack of cigarettes in ten minutes-"

"Three cigs isn't half a pack." George's tone was stern, choosing that to focus on, of all things.

"Still..." Adam trailed off, glancing over to John and Ross for help. "It's too much, for like... ten minutes... like-"

"What happened last night?" Ross interjected, his tone bold, and almost daring, yet meeting George with a stare that was nothing but stern and sincere.

George shrugged, cheeks heating up as he turned away from the three of them.

"Wait... what...?" Adam trailed off, turning to Ross and immediately coming to recognise the knowing look held in his eyes. "Alright, so what is it that's gone down that you've all neglected to tell me about?"

"Up to George to tell you." Ross supplied with a shrug, hoping that might encourage George to just be slightly more inclined to offer up perhaps any sort of explanation.

"Yeah, didn't stop you from telling John about it." George couldn't help the remark: slipping his lips before common sense could hold him back. John flushed red.

"I didn't... tell him the whole story, I just, mentioned that I was a bit worried about you, because you told me something really important and then you said you'd text me later, and you never did and-"

"I didn't text you because I forgot." George told him rather plainly. "Not because I got kidnapped and held hostage or anything. I've not been through severe emotional torture and abuse over the past twenty four hours, you can all calm down, alright?"

"Never... really assumed you had." Adam commented, unsure as to quite whether George might want to hit him for smiling or not.

"Look, George, I don't know what it's about, I just know... you've got... uhh... the words Ross used were 'internal conflict'..."

George burst into a fit of laughter. "Fucking hell."

"I didn't know what else-" Ross did try to defend himself.

"Anyway." John interjected, continuing to explain. "And he told me you'd gone off to deal with that, and that you'd text him to tell him how it went. But then when you hadn't texted him, we just thought maybe you'd gotten really upset or something, and it kind of looks like-"

"I'm not upset." George met the three boys with a smile. "I'm actually not. I'm just a bit... a bit... I don't know... I feel like a lot's happened, and I'm still dealing with that."

"Maybe you should talk about it." Adam did try not to sound overly condescending - it just didn't quite work.

"Maybe..." George let out a sigh, running a hand back through his hair. "Just don't be... weird, about it?"

"What do you mean?" Adam met him with a confused kind of half smile. "What's weird?"

"We won't be weird about it." John let out a sigh, shooting Adam a look. "Whatever it is, alright?"

"Just don't say anything like, don't give me your stupid fucking opinions because I don't... I don't want to deal with what you might think, because it's not that I don't care, I'll listen to you berate me eventually, just not right now." George drew a sigh, and met Ross' gaze.

"Just don't be a dickhead." Ross added, shooting a glance across at Adam, who made a point of looking particularly offended.

"Alright so..." George took a drag of his cigarette, fixating his gaze down at the ground. "Matty. It's about Matty. Because of course it is."

The three couldn't help but laugh. George even managed a chuckle at his own expense.

"So, I think I am a bit in love with them, you know?" George caught his breath, not daring, for the life of him, to catch a single one of his friends' gazes. "I was talking to Ross yesterday, about like... my little mess of feelings for them, and like... sexuality crisis, and what not. Because it's not really a crisis, because I don't feel like personally attacked by Matty's dick or anything, I just-"

"Jesus Christ..." Adam couldn't help himself, eyes growing wide.

George rolled his eyes, meeting his gaze just for a brief moment. "I went over to Matty's, and... they were hungover, like really hungover, like... ugly hungover, wrapped up in a blanket, looking paler than a fucking ghost, like... but like they're still Matty, and I made them tea and we sat and talked for a bit, and I... still thought they were pretty like that, which was sort of weird, like weirdly sappy, and... it was nice, you know?"

"And how exactly did that make you late today?" John couldn't help but inquire.

"I'm really not done yet." George let out a sigh, burying his thoughts in a cloud of smoke. "We went up to their room because their brother came home, and it was probably the most awkward conversation of my life, because they'd obviously told him something about me, and like... he was just staring at me, like he wanted to just yell it at me. And that's... sort of uncomfortable, you know?"

George gave way to a sigh. "But it wasn't something bad, Matty promised me. They could be a fucking liar, but I believe them. And then, we sat and smoked for a bit, and I finally asked them about... sexuality... and... they kind of didn't want to talk about it, but they did, and I really don't think I deserved that, because they told me this mess of a story about them at sixteen, and how they figured things out, and... Matty just doesn't offer up shit like that. It's just... that meant a lot to me."

"They probably like you too, you know?" John offered, a little nervous as to how George might react to such a statement.

"Yeah." George smiled, cheeks turning red. "They do. It's kind of obvious - we both kind of fancy each other, but like... it's... nothing's happened, because it's not the right moment-"

"Because you're scared?" Adam raised his eyebrows: leaping to conclusions.

"No, because we're not ready." George snapped, shaking his head. "They offered to kiss me, you know? When we were talking about sexuality. Like, you can just kiss me and figure that out. But I already knew I liked the idea of kissing them - that wasn't the issue."

"I know you told me not to say anything, but you're an idiot." Adam let out a sigh, and neither Ross nor John could help but laugh.

George gave a shrug; he could see, in a way, that Adam had a point. "And then we, fell asleep together, and... then... in the morning, I met their mum, and easily that was the second most awkward conversation, because she was nice, but... we were sat in bed together, half-naked, Matty was sat in my lap - it wasn't the best of things to walk in on-"

"Fucking hell." Ross' eyes grew wide. "Exactly how gay can you get without actually being gay?"

George managed a smile. "Yeah, but Matty's not a boy, alright, so..." They trailed off. "But their mum sat me down, and basically just asked me, if I was their boyfriend... and that was a bit... harrowing, for like eight in the morning."

"What?" John raised his eyebrows. "Because, you weren't sure if you're Matty's boyfriend or not?"

"No, shut up..." George flushed red. "We're not together, I'm not their boyfriend, we've never even kissed, we're just... things are taking their time, I think... I think maybe we're at a stage where something's got to happen, just eventually, when we're both comfortable with it, when it feels right."

"You are aware your life isn't a fucking Disney movie?" Adam shot George a look. "Not be harsh, but like... it's just a kiss... I think if you convince yourself it's going to be the most magical thing you've ever experienced, that's going to fuck with your head."

"I'm not talking about shit like that." George rolled his eyes, unable to stop his cheeks from burning red. "I just mean, when I'm comfortable with my sexuality, and when Matty's certain that they want to."

"I think Matty wants to. That's beyond obvious-"

"No, like..." George shook his head. "Matty, sort of, you know kissed every boy they've made eye contact with for the past two years. They want to make sure that they want to kiss me, because they want to kiss me, and not just for the sake of it."

"Not to be..." Ross began, gesturing wildly with his hands. "Intrusive, or anything, but... this sounds a bit overly complicated, don't you think?"

"You two obviously love each other, just let it happen-"

"I am, it's just not..." George gave way to a sigh. "We're not quite there yet, alright? I think if I just went and kissed them right now, that'd be forcing it."

"Because you're still not sure whether you like dick or not?" Adam shook his head in disbelief. "Honestly, George, come on-"

"No, I think I've got that sorted in theory, you know?" George bit his lip. "Like in my head. I guess it could change when I actually put it into practice, but I think, I'm just generally not actually that fussed about what someone's got between their legs."

He let out a sigh, finishing his third cigarette. "You know... bisexual, or something like that?"

And what was a beautiful, emotional, and maybe even heart wrenching moment was smashed into pieces when Ross let out a cheer.

"Fucking yes. There we go. George is gayer than Adam, fucking suck on that, Waughy-"

"What?" Adam's eyes grew wide, blinking expectantly between the two of them.

"Oh... yeah..." George bit his lip as it all came back to him. "They had a bet, over which one of us... would turn out the least straight or something."

"And you went for me?" Adam stared at John, eyes wide with disbelief. "When he's been like moments from sucking off Matty for the past few months, and-"

"You know what?" John folded his arms across his chest. "I don't think this counts. I think... I think George has to prove it. George has to kiss Matty for it to be a win."

Ross stopped for a moment and grinned. "Yeah. I think so too."

And George sat there, rather dumbfounded, spending a good minute wondering whether this had actually ever been a real bet at all, or just an oddly formulated scheme to get him to admit his feelings for Matty.

But whichever it was, George just wasn't sure he cared anymore.

-

Matty arrived home to a house that seemed to be bursting with life and noise. It just failed to make them feel welcome in any real way or form, as the noise wasn't that of warming, bubbly conversation, but that of clear argument: piercing into Matty's skin the very moment they made it past the front door.

Against all better judgement, they followed the source of the noise into the living room, looking between their parents with wide eyes, sharing a fleeting glance with Louis, before catching the clock on the wall.

"What are you doing home?" Matty fixated their gaze on the time - it was barely half past five, and yet, both of their parents were home, despite perhaps all common sense and rationale.

And, still, there was certainly no missing the way the silence seemed to ring out between them - the room having faded away into silence the very moment Matty had walked in through the door. They just didn't quite want to think about what that could possibly mean, at least, not yet.

"It's not like we don't live here too." Matty held their father's gaze: caring not for the almost sarcastic tone to his voice, attempting to brush this all off like it was nothing, like he could just kid Matty that they hadn't clearly been talking about them up until they walked right in. That really wasn't the case.

Giving up on them, Matty turned their attention across to Louis, who was stood rather awkwardly against the wall, as if trying to avoid their conversation more than anything else. Matty eyed him curiously, taking a moment to let their thoughts mull over in their mind, before properly addressing him.

"So what is going on?" Matty knew that their best chance, in regards to answers, was Louis.

"They're..." Louis trailed off, catching an almost challenging look from his parents, before deciding that he didn't actually care what they had to say, and instead, faced Matty head on. "Talking about you, I think, you've guessed that, but, about you and George."

"Oh..." Matty's mouth went dry, pulling their gaze past their father, and instead catching their mother's gaze. "Kind of you to fucking share my business with the entire world, isn't it?"

"Matty-" She let out a sigh, burying her head in her hands.

"Is that what this is?" Matty burst into a laugh, as abhorred by the situation as they were amused. "You've called the whole fucking family home because you have to immediately discuss the slight probability that you think I might have shagged a bloke?"

Matty's lack of discretion didn't half send the room into a mess of red faces and distant eyes. They found it funny, more than anything else.

"Oh fuck off." Matty rolled their eyes, turning away from both of their parents, and offering Louis a smile instead.

"I told you." Louis added, glancing past Matty, speaking to their parents. "That they weren't together. I told you."

Matty gave way to a smirk, crossing the room to join Louis, rummaging through their pockets for their phone, as they placed their back against the wall.

"Still, I-..." Denise gave way to a sigh. "It's been on my mind, you know? Like, uncontrollably, and I needed to talk to your father about it, and Louis, I know you-"

"Mum, I..." Louis shook his head in disbelief. "It's just none of your business. I know, you would like to know, but Matty's an adult, believe it or not, so like..."

Matty's lips curled up into a smile. "He's right." They met their parents dead in the eyes. "It's not your business who I'm sleeping with. And for the record, I'm not sleeping with George. Never have."

"Right..." The room fell into a sigh. Matty could tell that neither of their parents seemed all that convinced.

"I just find it almost... fucking... offensive, that you're so worked up about it, like... if George was a girl, would you really be this bothered? No, no you fucking wouldn't. And that's just... just... that's kind of homophobic, really... isn't it?"

Matty's voice was slow and tentative, and their words were over punctuated with profanities - perhaps more than they'd perhaps care to let slip in front of Louis, but the situation certainly seemed to call for it.

"No, that's not..." Denise met Matty with an almost pleading look in her eyes. "Matty, that's really not what I'm getting at here. I'm just concerned. We've established that George isn't your boyfriend, and he seems nice. It's just... I'm struggling to work out why you were sat in his lap, half naked this morning. Not to throw it out there, but it's been on my mind."

Louis' eyes grew wide. "Oh... wow..."

Matty shot him a look. "Still, none of your fucking business."

"Matty, son, we care, because we're confused, we just-"

"You wouldn't be fucking confused if he was a girl. You'd be absolutely fine with the whole thing if George had been a girl. And that's really pissing me off, you know? Because that's literally... you're treating the situation differently because he's a guy, that's literally homophobic-"

"Matty, please..." Denise offered them a smile. "That's not the issue, we know you're not gay, we're just... it's the idea of you keeping secrets-"

"Oh my fucking god." Matty buried their head in their hands, turning to Louis for a brief moment, and shooting him an entirely hopeless look.

"Just leave it alone, alright?" Louis lowered his voice slightly, looking between his parents with far more courage than he reckoned he did actually possess.

"Matty-"

"Leave it alone." Louis' tone grew sterner, despite perhaps all common sense. "Can't you see you're literally upsetting Matty?"

"Fuck's sake." Matty let out a sigh, turning back to face their parents, something clicking inside of them. This was a moment if there ever was one. A chance to make a statement. Something.

It was horrific, but it was clear. It wasn't going to sink in any other way. And Matty just looked at their parents, and couldn't help but wonder as to just what they might say.

And as the room began to still, Matty took a deep breath and just let it all escape them.

"Right, so, I'm not gay, but I'm attracted to men."

Their words seemed so incredibly blunt that they seemed to slice holes in the air around them. Matty didn't dare to meet their parents' gazes, and instead, their eyes clung desperately to Louis for support.

"So you are with George, and you've lied to us yet again-"

"Mum..." Matty's breath was shaky, and their words were twice as unstable. After a moment or two, they found it within themself to bring their gaze up to meet their mother's.

"Just..." They shook their head. "Just, you're being stupid. Like, I hate to put it like that, but you're being stupid. I've not slept with George. I've not kissed George. I've not done anything with George, because funnily enough, George is straight. And for another point, George is absolutely not the only man in the world."

Neither of their parents quite knew what to say to that.

"So, there you go. I've had boyfriends, I guess. Just not George. Me and George are friends." Matty already regretted it, despite the comforting look Louis met them with. Despite everything, they knew they'd ultimately fucked up.

"Boyfriends." Their dad repeated.

"Boyfriends." Matty let the word slip their lips with malice, firing it straight at their father. "I've had boyfriends. I've had girlfriends. Not at the same time, though, I have morals as well."

"So you're... bisexual?" Denise tested the word out on her lips, almost like she didn't entirely trust it.

"No." Matty shook their head, their whole chest beginning to ache. "Just attracted to men. I had girlfriends in the past, but you know, I've had revelations about sexuality-"

"So you are gay?" It came to the point where Matty was almost ready to laugh at it.

"No." Matty let out a sigh. "I'm not gay. I'm just attracted to men."

"Why?" Their mother's voice grew increasingly insistent. "How does that not just make you gay? And look, Matty, that isn't an- that's not a problem, that's fine- just... why are you-"

"I'm not a boy. That's why I'm not gay." The words had left Matty's lips before they could really think about them. "Fuck, alright, just bare with me. Not a girl. Tried being a girl. It was nice. Didn't entirely get along with it, though. But I was somebody's girlfriend once, funny to think that, isn't it?"

No one else seemed to find it particularly funny. Matty was almost disappointed.

"Anyway, so. Not a boy, not a girl. I know... confusing. That's been the summary of my life for the past few months, basically I'm confused, what the fuck is gender, what the fuck is sexuality, but... I've got it figured out now. I'm just in the middle, you know? Genderqueer, if you want to put a particular name on it. And I don't care if you don't care, and I don't care if you don't like it, because I'm an adult, it's my business, and you can just fucking deal with it."

And as Matty made their way for the door, desperately needing to get out of that room, to get out of the house, to get out of their head, Denise got to her feet and stopped them.

"Fucking hell." She pulled Matty into her chest."Fucking hell, Matty."

"Yeah." Matty let out a sigh, pulling away from her, and shooting his dad a questioning look. "Quite a mess, really."

"Could say that." Their dad gave way to a smile, pulling Matty into a quick hug, before leaving Matty stood there, rather awkwardly between the two of them.

"We love you, you know that?" Denise continued, meeting Matty with a smile. "You just need to talk about these things. We just don't like being confused, we don't like being in the dark. It's fine if you've got a boyfriend, it's fine if you're... genderqueer, it's fine. It's your business, but we love you, and we want to know."

"That's been this, all these months." Matty let out a sigh, turning their head to the floor. "Why I've been distant, all of this. Gender, especially. And then I spent a lot of time at my boyfriend's place. We've broke up now. He was a bit of a dickhead. Quite a lot of a dickhead, but... yeah... I'm sorry."

And for the first moment in far too long, their house began to feel so much more like a home.

"Love you too."

Matty gave way to a smile, cheeks burning red.

-

"Boyfriends."

The illusion of everything Matty had every felt secure in shattered promptly that Friday evening when Matty made it in from work. Their mum had taken Louis out shopping, and they had known their dad would have been home, they weren't quite so keen to face him immediately.

Matty pulled their hair back into a bun, cheeks burning red under his speculative gaze: cast firm across the living room.

"Yeah..." Matty let out a sigh, words muffled against the back of their hand.

"Tell me about them." Tim prompted, as if it were nothing at all, leaving back against the sofa, and catching Matty with a concerned glance.

"Why?" Matty shrugged it off, turning away from him.

"Because I've heard the world about every girl you've ever fancied, but nothing about a single boy." He continued perhaps far too nonchalantly, and for a moment, Matty almost believed that there was something genuinely innocent in the conversation.

"I don't exactly feel that comfortable..." Matty trailed off, avoiding their father's gaze.

"Why? Because they're boys?" He let out a snort. "Weren't you just banging on about how we all shouldn't treat it any differently whether they're girls or boys? You'd tell me about some girl you kissed at a party, but not some boy, hey?"

"If I don't want to tell you then, that's... not your business, you know?" Matty stepped away from their father, eyeing him carefully from across the room.

"Whatever, then, just asking." He gave a sigh: too pushing, sounding almost offended.

Matty drew their features out into a frown. They glanced to the floor, pulling at the hem of their shirt. "I'm going out."

"You're-"

"Going out." Matty didn't let him finish, turning away back towards the front door. "Yeah."

"You just got in-"

"Yeah, well I'm going somewhere else now, and that's... none of your business. Just like, who I date, or what boys I've kissed are all none of your business. So just fuck off, alright?"

Matty slammed the door behind them, not giving their father a chance to respond, before they stormed off out into the street, lighting up a cigarette, and instantly typing out a message to George - almost like a reflex, engrained into their brain.

'I need to see you'

Matty waited little more than a minute for a response.

'Why? What's happened?'

Matty chewed their lip, debating over how much detail they should go into over text.

'Everything's fucked'

Their usual explanation seemed to work.

'What's everything?'

Really, Matty could see how they were supposed to answer that.

'I'm coming over'

They avoided the question entirely.

'I'm out but I'll come meet you if you want'

Matty's heart sank in their chest.

'Out with your mates?'

George's response was instant - 'Yeah'

'I won't bother you then'

Matty drew their worries back into their chest amidst clouds of smoke.

'You're not bothering me. If you're upset then we should talk'

Matty let out a sigh, regret creeping through their veins.

'I'm not upset. I'm just pissed off'

Matty didn't give George time to respond, before typing out a second message.

'I'll go see Gemma instead'

They buried their phone back into their pocket before George could even response.

Matty didn't want to deal with that. Matty didn't want to deal with him, and the over-concerned sympathy that they would never deserve. They wanted to convince themself that a few harsh words from their father couldn't define their whole world, and despite his good intent, George just wasn't helping with that.

Instead, Matty told themself they would be fine, put their cigarette to their lips, and carried on towards Gemma's.

-

Her lipstick was smudged.

It was the first thing Matty noticed when she'd opened the door: stood there, under the dim glow of the table lamp, with dark red lipstick fading and smudged across her lips.

Matty cracked a smile.

"What?" Gemma's eyes grew wide, cheeks turning an equally abrasive shade of red.

Matty gave a shrug, not uttering a word, and simply pushed past her and into the living room.

The boy sat on the sofa was shirtless, and muscular, with dark hair, and long limbs, and the kind of dark brown eyes that you could drown in. He stared at Matty like they were entirely insane. Matty offered back a smile. As they had, of course, seen this all before.

It perhaps wasn't the best time for it, but it wasn't like they could expect Gemma to organise her dating life around their own family mishaps and persistent tendencies to throw everything into shit. At the very least, it provided Matty with some idle amusement: something for their mind to focus on as they picked the half empty wine glass up from the coffee table and helped themself to a sip.

The boy continued to stare. Matty hadn't expected anything less.

Gemma reappeared just a few moments later, with fixed lipstick, and hair tied back away from her face. Matty shot her a smirk, tugging her gaze across the room to the boy, who was still just as shirtless, and still just as confused.

"Uhm..." Funnily enough, he was the first one to speak, glancing between Gemma and Matty, gesturing awkwardly with an extended finger.

"Yeah." Gemma threw herself into a sigh. "This is my boyfriend. His name's Oliver." She shot Matty a stern look - one it didn't take Matty long to figure served to act as a warning not to sleep with him. They couldn't help but smirk at the prospect.

"Hi..." Oliver gave way to a sigh, still shirtless, and suddenly now so much more aware of it.

"This is Matty." Gemma rolled her eyes in their direction, seeing as Matty was somehow incapable of introducing themself. "My friend."

Oliver raised his eyebrows. Matty snorted; they wondered if Gemma's boyfriends ever stop getting the wrong idea.

"I slept with her last boyfriend." Matty was the perfect picture of nonchalance, taking a leisurely sip from Gemma's glass of wine as they spoke. "Watch out." They met Oliver's gaze with a smirk.

"...Oh..." His eyes grew so wide that Matty thought they might fall out. Somehow, Gemma didn't seem to find it anywhere near as amusing as they did.

"Is that a joke...?" Oliver trailed off, noticing the way Matty struggled to contain their laughter.

Gemma rolled her eyes, reaching for her now empty wine glass, and taking it from them. "No, they did." She explained, perhaps all too casually, as she set the glass back down onto the table.

"I only slept with him because he was a dickhead, though." Matty muttered, running a hand back through their hair. "Only ever sleep with dickheads, me. So be nice to her and you're safe."

They gave way to a sigh, burying their head in their hands, as they made their way over to the window, dragging their index finger across the cold glass, as if to outline the dark, unforgiving evening outside. As if to make a mockery of it even - imagine that. But that had always been Matty's deal: making mountains out of molehills, and molehills out of mountains.

Gemma's gaze didn't leave Matty. She drew a slow breath, and came to accept this as the very moment that she knew that something was off. She folded her arms across her chest, shot Oliver an apologetic glance, and followed them across the room.

"What's wrong?" Gemma reached her arm around their shoulders. When Matty gave no response, she followed their gaze out into the night sky, out into the world, that somehow seemed so distant, and out of reach from where they stood inside.

"I hate everything." Matty declared, drawing their gaze to the ground. "Because nothing's ever fucking good enough, is it? I came out to my parents, and they didn't kill me. It was nice, you know? They said they loved me, and you know I was over the moon."

Gemma gave a nod: unsure if she'd quite ever forget that phone call from the other night.

"But it's just... I thought everything was getting better, but it's not. It's still shit. Everything's still fucked. Everything's still shit." Matty shook their head and let out a sigh. "My dad's being weird about it. They're being nice, but they're always being weird about it, and they always call me 'he' still. Not to make a point, just because they forget, and I... I just feel awkward reminding them. It's a fucking bother. I'm a fucking bother. That's what it feels like."

"You're not." Gemma pressed her fingertips into the top of their spine, hoping her words might retain the same effect.

"I just... everything's fucked, everything's always going to be fucked, you know? What's the fucking point? And everyone's got... I'm just a bother. Everyone's got their friends and their boyfriends, no one's got time for me and my stupid fucking gender in their lives-"

"Matty-"

Matty tore away from her grip, shaking their head at her. "And it's fine. Because all I wanted was to get pissed anyway, to fucking forget all this shit. But I'll go and buy myself some fucking vodka and pass out in a park somewhere-"

"Matty." Gemma raised her voice this time, curling her fingers around their arm, stopping them from leaving.

"She's right. Not a good idea that." Oliver didn't want to intrude, but from what he'd picked up of the conversation, Matty needed some convincing.

Matty stared him down with disgust; he'd put his shirt on, at the very, very least.

"Oh fuck off. Look, you can get back to fucking on the sofa, I don't care, sorry for ruining your evening with my fucking problems-"

"We weren't fucking on the sofa." Gemma insisted, holding Matty's gaze. "You're not going off on your own, you're in a state."

"I need to get pissed." Matty raised their voice, meeting them both in the eye. "That's all I need. Bit of vodka, and then, easy, everything's fucking dealt with-"

Gemma doubted the truth to that. "Matty..." She met them with pleading eyes.

"Hey..." Oliver trailed off, tearing his gaze back and forth between the two of them. "Aren't your friends at a party tonight? We should just go along to that. Matty can drunk, and you can keep an eye on him, and-"

"Keep an eye on me?" Matty's eyes widened in disbelief. "I'm not a twelve year old."

"You behave like one." Gemma rolled their eyes.

She considered Oliver's proposal for a moment or two, before deciding that it just didn't seem like there was a better option available to her. "Fuck it, let's go then."

"Alright, you know me - love a good party." Matty pulled on a grin and wore it with conviction.

Gemma shook her head - she didn't see through it. "You love the booze."

"And the boys. Pretty boys with their shirts off." They shot a glance back towards Oliver. "Ones without girlfriends though. And yeah. The booze."

Gemma shook her head, forcing her lips closed as the word 'George' began to rot away at the back of her throat.

-

George wasn't sure if Matty had permanently ruined parties for him, or whether all of his friends were just the worst people in the world. Whichever it was, the party fucking sucked.

As much as George liked to say he was a people person, there was no place he'd hate more to be than wedged between two girls he'd sort of vaguely known from school - devastatingly sober, and devastatingly single.

Ross and John had slipped off together within the first ten minutes. And as much as George would have protested, and told them they were being dickheads, he wasn't sure he could stomach actually having to watch John suck Ross' tongue out of his mouth.

He hated them both.

He hated Adam as well. Because he'd trusted Adam. He always hung around Adam at parties, when Ross and John had gotten wasted enough to be practically in each other's pants in a public place - George found that the two had bonded an awful lot over their two best friends borderline obscene relationship.

Yet somehow, within the space of the past few days, Adam had gotten himself a girlfriend. She was pretty, with dark hair and an almost permanent smile, and George would have adored her in any other situation.

But now he was the single friend, and the sober friend. And he wanted it to be his last party all over again. He wanted to be off his fucking face, with Matty curled up in his lap, and every petty argument, and every mess they could have made.

With his back against the living room wall, and the music droning on inside his mind, George wanted that all over again.

He didn't care about the girls, and their fascinatingly tedious stories, and the whole world they seemed to offer up on their shoulders. Because George couldn't bring himself to care about anything else in the world when he knew Matty was upset, especially considering that it had almost been an hour since he'd last texted him back.

Eventually, George made a half-hearted excuse about needing the toilet, and struggled through the crowds of people, wondering whether just to give up and leave the party entirely. To just go home and sulk, or to try his best to track Matty down and make sure he was alright.

He did try to convince himself that Matty was alright. He'd gone over to Gemma's after all, and George trusted that she'd dealt with him, and that it shouldn't be any of his concern anymore. He just couldn't escape the feeling that any problem of Matty's was a problem of his too.

He dared to wonder if maybe Matty did actually need his help, despite all the odds, that somehow, Gemma just hadn't managed to suffice, and that he was, in fact, this hero figure - the person that might save him from every slight minor inconvenience.

George told himself to stop being stupid, reminded himself that Matty was a person, not a fucking word document, and certainly didn't need saving. And tried to think about just anything else as he found his way to the bathroom, and had that piss he'd lied to those girls about needing.

-

"I was right." Matty's words left their lips at perhaps a rate of a thousand a minute, an empty wine glass dangling precariously from their fingertips. "You know I was."

They shot a grin up a Gemma: hazy and content. She offered a smile back, glancing back through the crowd: looking for Amber and Marika, for anyone who might keep an eye on them.

"Always right." Matty brought their wine glass back up to their lips, only to realise that there, of course, was in fact, nothing in it. "Fucking genius, me." They drummed their fingertips against the glass, seemingly rather amused by their own conclusion and hazy state of mind.

Gemma looked back across at her boyfriend, almost losing him in the crowds, as Matty had spread themself out across the sofa, seeming to think that they just weren't far off the top of the world. As much as they did seem at total ease, Gemma knew much better than to leave them like that. And it was as she'd almost given up, accepting that she'd have to stay and babysit them for the rest of the night, she caught Amber's gaze from across the room, and darted off after her.

Matty wasn't stupid. They just did stupid things.

Matty wasn't stupid enough not to realise that Gemma wanted to keep an eye on them the whole night, to treat them like a child, like they couldn't last a moment without helping themself. And as much truth as there might have been to that. Matty was just stupid enough to disregard it all, and get to their feet at the first moment, losing both themself and Gemma in the crowd.

They had little problem with inserting themself into conversations, into holding the gaze of strangers, and feeling the weight of the world on their back, comprised of wanting gazes. It made them younger. Like there was nothing on their mind, like it was just endless parties and endless bullshit, and only words that could hurt them.

But then, everything stopped.

"Hey... sweetheart."

Matty had caught a thousand 'sweethearts' in their life; they'd built themself up on a mountain of catcalls, and they stood as the ruler upon it. Still, this was something different.

There was a certain barb to the low, almost husky tone. Like there wasn't even an ounce of daring present behind the facade of confidence. Like the confidence wasn't even a facade. Like the speaker knew exactly what he was doing, like this was a game, and a game he always played so very well.

With an outstretched hand over their head - an arm pushing them up to the wall, Matty gave way to a shaky breath, and turned, meeting the speaker's eyes: dark in the evening night, but burning across their mind still.

Matty's stomach jerked inside their chest, and their whole world fell into a somersault.

"Didn't think I'd see you here." He continued, moving closer: taking Matty's silence as an invitation, exchanging lazy smiles, like they were young all over again. Like the air was warm, and the night young, and the world felt like it was comprised of more than blood, lies, and shit.

"Yeah." Matty gave way to a sigh, pushing their hair back out of their face, and meeting his gaze properly - if he deserved anything, it had to be that at the very least.

"Didn't know if I'd ever see you again." He lowered his voice slightly, pressing Matty further against the wall.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't have fucked off and left me without an explanation if you thought that was going to be a problem." Matty raised their eyebrows, finding the courage to push him away.

"Matty." His eyes grew wide, taking them in as if they wanted just to swallow them whole - to crush Matty into pieces and take what remained of them with him.

"James." Matty's tone was harsh, disinterested, and plainly indicative of the fact that things wouldn't go down as they had before. James didn't seem keen to listen.

James looked down at them like they were still sixteen - the perfect picture of naivety with soft pink lips, and a sense of perpetual anxiety set into their eyes.

Matty bit back with fingers into James' chest, pushing him firmly away, leaving him to contemplate the Matty that stood before him - chipped black nail polish, fading red lipstick, and a sense of perpetual vindication set deep into their eyes.

"One last time-"

Matty didn't even let him finish. "Yeah, one last time for you to fucking shut up before I slam your fucking head against the wall."

James snorted. "Like you're going to do that."

Matty realised then that they hated every boy they'd ever slept with; they'd let them all in, and each and every one of them knew them all too well. When Matty offered up their body, their heart and soul did always drift off with it.

And Matty had made a lot of mistakes, but never had one stared back at them with such disgust, with such entitlement, at six foot two, with dark eyes, and the impression that the world rested purely on their shoulders.

Matty searched for words, for anything to say at all, but their lips grew dry, as their mouth remained empty. Nothing to say for themself at all, just the bitterest silence, cutting through the loudest room.

They stared up at James, all wide eyes and desperation. But, he also didn't quite get the chance to even think of something to say.

"Fuck off, mate." Fingers gripped around James' shoulder, pulling his arm back away from where it had bracketed Matty.

"Fuck off?" James shot an incredulous glance over his shoulder. "You can fuck off. Me and Matty are alright - we go back."

Matty pushed away from James, heart pounding frantically in their chest. It was as they stumbled to escape the both of them, that they stopped dead in their tracks.

"Way back." James added, as if for emphasis. "Don't we?" He turned to Matty, expectantly.

But Matty wasn't listening. Matty was already gone. Matty's lip had flown out into a desperate smile.

Matty locked eyes with George.

"I don't give a fuck - Matty's clearly not comfortable, so you can fuck off."

Matty had never seen George like this: properly angry, with the whole world seeming to burn behind his eyes. He shot James a glare, taking advantage of his height, like Matty had never seen before, and pushing James back into the wall, with one forceful hand on his shoulder.

"I don't know who the fuck you think you are." James gave way to a laugh, looking up at George like he didn't scare him at all, like he was nothing more than a speck of dust on the back of his hand. "He was my boyfriend. We were together, years back, we're fine."

But as James knew Matty, Matty knew James too. And they knew him well enough to know that it simply wasn't true.

"I don't know who the fuck you think you are." George mimicked his tone, meeting James dead in the eyes, with a special kind of hatred that he almost seemed to have reserved for him. "Because I don't give a shit, what you had years back, what you were. Who you were to them. Because you're fucking not anymore."

George didn't really think before he spoke. Especially not with the world's worth of adrenaline pumping through his veins, clouding his brain, and Matty's eyes: fixated upon on him, with this awful kind of desperation that seemed to tear through his skin, right past his bones, and straight into his heart.

"Because now, I'm Matty's boyfriend. And you're going to leave us the fuck alone."

George's words seemed to leave the impact of an earthquake: the whole world stilling around them, as he pulled away from James, grabbing Matty by the wrist, and pulling them off down the hallway. He wasn't sure where they were headed exactly, but somewhere they could stop, somewhere they could breathe, and somewhere the words that had slipped George's lips could finally take the time to sink in.

The bathroom was relatively small, but it did the job. With a door to lock behind them, and the space to sit and breathe, and maybe just to purposefully not look at each other for a good ten minutes as the world managed to catch up to them.

George threw his head back against the wall and cursed every stupid thought that had ever dared to make a home inside his brain. Matty perched themself down on the edge of the bathtub, their legs shaking insistently as they brushed their feet against the floor.

The silence was unbearable: stretching out for what seemed like an eternity, as words left unsaid began to fester and make homes and lives for themselves in the back of their throats.

Despite the rather gutsy display George'd had to say for himself, Matty was the one bold enough to break the silence in the end.

"Thank you." Their voice was soft, tentative even, and the look the two shared was fleeting at best.

"Y-..You're welcome..." George struggled for quite what to say: finding that he was just beyond uncertain of quite what to make of the situation, and really, their night in its entirety.

"I thought..." He trailed off, finally finding it within himself to lock his gaze with Matty's. "I thought you were with Gemma."

Matty gave way to a shrug - as if the prospect barely bothered them. "She's here." He gestured out towards the bathroom door. "Somewhere."

"Oh." George gave way to a sigh, mulling over the cold evening air, as the events of the past ten minutes flashed back through his mind for what felt like it might just be forever.

"With her boyfriend." Matty added, perhaps just to fill the silence. "He seems nice, you know? And that's pissed me off, because now I've basically got no excuse if I end up sleeping with him." Matty forced themself into a laugh. "But I'm not going to sleep with him. I don't want to."

George offered them a smile, tearing his gaze back to his friends, to the start of the night, to everything that seemed to be just so far away. "Adam's got himself a fucking girlfriend now and everything. I can't believe I'm both the sober friend and the single friend. This was honestly the worst party ever."

"Glad I showed up to cause you some trouble?" Matty cracked a smirk, getting to their feet. "What I'm best for - causing everyone a fucking world of trouble, isn't it?"

"Shut up." George shook his head. "You're no trouble at all. I'm glad to see you. I was worried about you. When you didn't text me back, especially."

Matty gave way to a snort. "I didn't text you back because I didn't want to deal with you worrying about me." They folded their arms across their chest. "I mean, you have your friends, and your fun, and I-... I didn't want to interrupt, you know?"

"You weren't interrupting anything." George assured them, taking a step closer. "I would have loved for you to have shown up earlier."

Matty fought a smile off their lips. "Am I asking for too much?" They drew out a sigh. "For my parents not to be weird about everything. Because I feel like everything's so fucked, but everything's so fine. Because it doesn't matter what my dad says, does it? And what the fuck does it mean whether my parents mess up with my gender or not- that doesn't mean, like they could have-"

"Matty." George shook his head, pulling Matty into his chest. "You're not asking for too much. You're just asking for basic fucking respect. You deserve better than that, and I'm sorry."

"I want it all to fucking go away." Matty drew out a sigh, pulling their head out from under George's arm. "My fucking dad, fucking everyone, fucking everyone with their stupid happy relationships, and stupid happy lives. And then fucking James."

George's heart dropped through his chest down to his knees. "Was that who-"

"Yeah." Matty nodded. "That was who you shoved into a wall."

George managed a smile, cheeks burning red. "Sorry about-"

"He fucking deserved it." Matty's voice grew loud: louder than George had perhaps expected. Perhaps louder than Matty themself had expected it too.

"No." George's tone grew hushed, and his gaze distant. "Not about that. About what I said."

Matty seemed to freeze on the spot for a moment. "That you were my boyfriend?" They raised their eyebrows, meeting George with a smirk.

"Yeah, I wanted to... get him to fuck off." George saw through his own words; he doubted he could manage to fool Matty either.

"Yeah..." Matty trailed off, smile creeping onto their cheeks. "You did."

"Not that... you know... I'd only say that under like dire circumstances, it's not that the idea of dating you is like so... diabolical or some-"

Matty kissed him.

Three months after they'd first spoken in that coffeeshop. After three months of desperate gazes, and confused early mornings. After three months of bright red cheeks, and secrets kept so dear. After three months of stupid lies, told both to themselves and each other. After three months of parties. After three months of uncertainty. After three months of prolonged apologies. After three months of the words they never dared to speak.

After three months of everything under the fucking sun: Matty kissed him.

And those fireworks - the ones Matty had been so desperately missing that time of their very first meeting. This was their time. This was that moment they'd been searching for.

Matty kissed him until neither of them could breathe. With bright red faces, and eyes impossibly wide: worlds entangled between the two of them, and amidst the mess, amidst everything else - Matty caught their gaze in the bathroom mirror. And in that gaze, they caught their reflection smiling right back at them.

"Wow..." George fell back against the bathroom wall, head spinning, as he tried to properly fixate on Matty, or really anything at all. "Fuck..."

A grin tugged at Matty's lips. They brought their gaze down to the floor, instead focusing on their feet: practically stepping all over each other. They'd made quite the mess - the two of them. But this just wasn't something that they particularly cared to clean up.

"Yeah..." Matty's voice was soft - the kind of gentle George had never thought would have been possible to extract from them. "Sorry about that, it was a bit... sudden, and I don't re-"

George kissed them back. With the kind of force and passion to turn the world to its knees. With arms around Matty's body: one gripped tight around their waist, and the other in their hair. The impact and the weight of it all was just so impossibly grounding, with Matty stretched up onto the tips of their toes: fully enveloped in George, and his lips, and his scent, and his chest, and his arms - in George and his everything.

In the moment of it all, words grew forgotten, and sentences remained unfinished, and the world didn't demand anything of it. It was a moment that Matty wanted to stretch on for a lifetime.

"Fuck..." Matty trailed off, pulling away from George, and stumbling a little way backwards under the spell of everything else.

"Shit, I've got you." George curled one arm around Matty, pulling them back towards him.

Matty's lips toyed with the idea of a smile, as they tilted their head down towards the ground, hiding it all under long black eyelashes: fluttering so innocently in spite of the moment.

"You know, George?" Matty began, voice the kind of curiously tentative that seemed to catch George entirely off guard.

"Mmm..." He divulged, settling his fingers down onto Matty's waist.

"You kissed me pretty hard for someone who just wanted James to stop bothering me." Matty couldn't help but suppress a giggle, holding George's gaze under the facade of imploration.

"Hmm...?" George froze for a moment, cheeks burning a rather bold shade of pink.

"Sure you weren't... jealous?" Matty parted their lips slightly, taking a heavy, baited breath: putting it on entirely too much, but having fun with it regardless. This was different. This was George.

"Jealous?" George repeated the word as if he just wasn't quite sure what it meant.

"Of all the boys that ever kissed me. Of everyone that's ever had their hand around my waist before." Matty pressed back against George's fingertips.

George flushed, attempting to pull his hand away, but Matty stopped him, placing their hand over George's, and pushing his fingertips down onto their waist.

"I've seen the way you look at me." Matty tilted their head up to meet George's: eyes boring great gaping holes in such a sturdy countenance.

George's breaths came out in desperate little wavering gasps. Matty couldn't help but smirk, moving their bodies as one and pressing George back into the wall.

"Don't think I don't know what goes in your head." Matty continued, never letting George's eyes leave their gaze: putting their all into the piercing stare, and the steady collapse of every pretence of self-control either of them had ever known.

"Every guy has the same thoughts, you see? I know, I think I've slept with them all. You all think you're so special, and so unique, that you're different, that you're the one that'll change the world, that you're the one that will treat someone differently." Matty dragged their words out like bullets through their teeth. "But you look, and you think, and it's all the same fucking things. Every time. Every guy."

George cracked a smile, finding an ounce of daring amidst everything else, with fingertips pressing down into Matty's waist, perhaps hard enough to bruise. George reckoned he even wanted them to.

"No." George pulled his grin out into a smirk. "You think you've slept with the whole world? No. You've got a type. You go for the dickheads, and you know it's true."

"And you think you're different?" Matty snorted, challenging the look in George's eyes.

"If I wasn't, would you have waited three months just to kiss me?" George dragged his fingertips down over Matty's waist and tugged at the hem of their shirt. "Not jealous. Got nothing to be jealous of. There wasn't a fucking world in which you would have gone off with him again."

Matty gave way to a sigh, facade crumbling down into a hopeless smile. "You know guys aren't usually able to tell me my whole life story without even fucking me once?"

George laughed. "What? Do you recite your autobiography when some guy's balls deep in your ass, or something?"

Although his tone was light-hearted, teasing at best, it left a much longer lasting impression as George's fingertips trailed up the inside of Matty's shirt: burning icy cold holes through Matty's skin.

"No." Matty blushed, pulling their gaze down, away from George's. "I'm just saying. You're different. Aren't you? Course you fucking are. I've never kissed someone and had it feel like that in my whole fucking life."

George leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Matty's. "And you've kissed the whole world, haven't you?"

"Mmm..." Matty nodded. "Whole fucking world."

George pressed his lips against Matty's once more: it was quick, chaste, almost graceful, but ebbed and burned with the kind of want and longing that had built up inside of the both of them. Matty knew the way George looked at them; they knew it well for it was simply the very same way they'd always looked at him too.

"Quite a statement, then." George pulled away, holding Matty's gaze with a definite sense of ambition. "Isn't it?"

"Oh, you know me..." Matty managed a smile, leaning back in George's grasp. "Always love to make a good statement."

George couldn't take it any longer, and kissed them again. Kissed them stupid. For they both were. In the great mess of everything else, with burning skin, and bruises just beginning to settle. With lips blown wide and eyes blown wider, with hair tangled around fingertips and knees knocking together.

George kissed him with meaning. With something to say for himself. For those empty months, for every extended silence, for everything lost inside of them.

-

George wondered if he'd ever been more relieved to find that his mum wasn't home. He wasn't exactly quite sure as to where she'd got to, but it was really the last thing on his mind when he walked in at eleven that night, with Matty under his arm.

Matty wasn't drunk, barely even tipsy anymore, but they were overacting it, with loud, brash movements, and even more obnoxious grins. George wasn't sure they'd stopped talking for even a moment since they'd left the party.

And still, George wasn't sure he minded at all. In fact, he was perfectly content to listen to Matty babble until the end of time.

Because of course, there was nothing of any sort of substance to their words, as they waffled on about the cold, and how big George's hands were, and how they wanted to get drunk, and how they wanted a smoke, and how it was still cold, and how George was lovely, and how he still had such big hands.

George wasn't sure there'd been much of particular substance to Matty since he'd first kissed them. At first, the facade had been relatively easy to maintain, with mouthy remarks and endless smirks, but with George's bedroom door shut safely behind them, Matty fell to pieces.

"George..." They perched themself on the end of the bed, watching as George turned back around to face them.

"Mmm...?" George watched them carefully for a moment, before sitting himself down beside Matty. "Something wrong?"

Matty gave way to a sigh, falling down into George's lap. "Yes, and no. Sort of. Maybe."

"What is it?" George lowered his voice, reaching for Matty's hand and giving his fingers a gentle squeeze; he'd meant it just to be a quick kind of comforting gesture, but Matty refused to allow him to let go.

"Everything..." An anxious kind of breathy giggle had Matty's chest vibrating against George's.

"What do you mean?" George lowered his voice further, growing suddenly concerned that something was wrong; that he'd done something wrong; that he'd fucked up - already.

"I..." Matty's breath seemed to catch in their throat, before they forced themself into a deep exhale, and lifted themself away from George's lap. Matty shuffled further onto the bed, crossing their legs, and throwing their jacket off onto George's bedroom floor. George raised an eyebrow, but didn't question it.

"Talk. We need to talk. I mean, kissing. That's all well and good, that's fucking wonderful, Jesus Christ, I love kissing you." Matty was well aware of the rather vibrant shade of pink that their cheeks had turned. "But... we can't just sit around and have a snog all evening and be done with it, can we? Because... it's... it's..."

"Different?" George offered up in Matty's silence. They gave a nod, cheeks still flushed pink.

George moved to the window, cranking it halfway open, and then placed himself back down beside Matty. The two shared a smile as George rummaged around in his pockets for his cigarettes.

"I'm stupid, I am." Matty declared, seemingly out of nowhere, with one knee brought up to their chest, and their hair tied back away from their face in a bun.

George cocked his head up, finally retrieving the almost lost pack of cigarettes, and pushed them down on the bed between the two of them. "Stupid?" He raised his eyebrows, placing a cigarette between his lips.

"Yeah." Matty nodded. "Thought. We knew. You know, I always thought we had this, all figured out. All this, like we knew how everything was, but I don't know... maybe we did. But then we kissed and I don't think I know anything anymore."

George snorted, blushing with endearment, just despite himself. "Anyway, so my take on everything is that I like kissing you really quite a lot."

"And so what does that mean, you know?" Matty trailed off, lighting themself a cigarette. "Like... George, not to burst your fucking bubble, and like, I know... my gender, and everything, but you can't fucking go around kissing me and calling yourself straight."

George grinned. "Did that whole massive conversation we had about sexuality go right over your head?" Matty started at him blankly. "I'm really not straight."

"Oh..." Matty's tone changed, lips seeming to freeze in a perfect 'O' shape for a moment longer than necessary.

"Probably bisexual." George mused, thinking for a moment. "I don't think it's the most important thing in the world, though. I'm attracted to you, and I'm pretty sure that's what matters here."

"It's just that I didn't... it would be weird... you calling yourself straight, you know? Cause I'm not a girl, and then... I have a dick, and like-"

"I'm aware." George grinned, taking far too much amusement in the stark shade of red Matty had turned.

"And so like..." Matty trailed off, shaking their head. They didn't think it would be like this. They didn't think they could let it be like this. "I'm scared."

George's eyes grew wide; Matty's statement was rather abrupt, after all. "Of what?"

"Where's this going? Are we just going to sit here and smoke, and then maybe have a snog once in awhile, where the fuck is this going-"

"Wherever you want it to." George told them.

"I don't know what I want." Matty's tone was bitter, and perhaps even a little self-deprecating.

"Not for the future, at least. Not for anything permanent, for anything that matters. And this matters, because- I don't want it to be like that... just a thing, I want... I don't know..."

"Then think about the short term." George suggested, heavy pounding in his chest. "If you don't know what you want more permanently, think about what you want right now."

Matty sat and thought for a moment, a smile creeping across their lips. "It's... weird. Well, it's not weird. It's just. And you can tell me to fuck off if you want, that's fine-"

"What is it?" George's voice grew stern, reaching forward and curling his fingers around Matty's wrist: tight enough to leave a mark. Matty's cheeks flushed such a desperate shade of red.

They glanced down at George's hand and struggled to quite get any words out. "I like... fuck, I'm not... I should have drank more before we left."

"No you shouldn't." George shook his head, moving closer to Matty. "Come on, tell me, whatever it is."

"You'll laugh at me. You'll one hundred percent laugh at me." Matty was beyond certain of it.

George couldn't suppress a laugh.

"See." Matty's eyes grew impossibly wide. "You're even laughing now."

"Well, if I'm already laughing, it's not going to come as a surprise if I do, is it?" Matty wasn't quite sure they could really trust in George's logic. "Now, come on, tell me."

Matty watched as George pulled his fingers away from their wrist; he couldn't help but crack a grin at the audible gasp of breath that followed.

"I... I..." Matty grew redder than George had ever seen them before. "Right now. I'm just sat here, and I'm thinking. And I have stupid thoughts, you know me. And some of those thoughts are about you, and things, about stupid things. And I can't stop thinking about your mouth, and your hands, and..."

Matty gained a sudden breath of confidence out of seeming nowhere, and leaned forward, practically slotting them into George's lap. "What I want, right now, more than anything, is to get my mouth around your cock."

George sure as hell didn't laugh, in fact, George was pretty sure that he didn't even breathe.

"Fuck." George watched as Matty's eyes grew wide and glassy, chest shuddering against his own. But this was Matty, this was Matty who'd made a mess of George's head for months, and now everything seemed easy and simple, and George couldn't even figure out how to breathe.

"Stop looking at me like that." Matty rolled their eyes, moving out of George's lap, and getting up off the bed. "Just tell me what you think."

"I think I'm gonna die." George's response took them both by surprise. "I think you're actually going to kill me."

Matty couldn't help the smirk that crossed their lips; they didn't bother to utter a single word, and instead just got to their knees.

George watched Matty with wide eyes, as they knelt there, resting against the end of the bed, glancing across at him almost impatiently. A thousand thoughts had raced through George's head, but he still wasn't sure he could properly grasp a single one.

"Fucking hell." George moved himself to the end of the bed, locking eyes with Matty and feeling his insides turn to jelly.

"Alright, first-" George let out a shaky breath as Matty rubbed their hand up the inside of his thigh. "Don't tell Ross. Under no circumstances can Ross know, not even about the kisses, not even about anything-"

"Just Ross?" Matty narrowed their eyes. "Why?"

"Okay, this is going to sound really stupid, but... Ross and John have this fucking bet, about... me, about... me and you, really. You know?" George turned a rather attractive shade of beetroot red. "And... I don't want to give him the satisfaction of winning."

"You're a bellend." Matty told him, before very nonchalantly, proceeding to move their hand further up George's thigh, reaching to undo his jeans.

"Matty-" George stopped them again, this time with strong fingers curled in tightly around their forearm.

"What?" Matty leaned forward, staring up at George with pleading, almost desperate eyes.

"Look, don't... don't feel like you have... have to, like... do anything, you don't want to-"

"George, I literally asked you to let me give you a blowjob-"

"I'm just saying, that-... my... I... I... to forewarn you, I'm... quite... big." George didn't think he'd ever blushed more in his life.

Matty rolled their eyes. "I've guessed." George still seemed bothered. "Come on, now that's just offensive, do you really think I'm going to have trouble, come on, do you know me at all?"

Matty didn't give George chance to even breathe before they had his jeans at his knees, and his cock exposed: growing steadily harder between his thighs.

Matty leaned back onto their heels and fucking grinned.

"God, you fucking weirdo." George groaned, locking his eyes with Matty's.

Matty considered telling George to shut up, but came to reckon that they just didn't need to. Instead they leaned forward and took George into their mouth - after all, actions spoke louder than words.

But never quite as loud as the obscene pop of Matty's mouth pulling off of George, and the deep guttural groans from deep within George's chest, released as despite George's every warning not to, Matty took George as deep as they could, squirming as George pressed against the back of their throat.

It didn't take Matty long to conclude that George's ex-girlfriends just must not have been very good at giving head, as it was within five minutes that George had forced himself out of Matty's mouth, and fallen back onto the bed with release.

Matty had managed a smirk, and maybe even a laugh, before falling so very impossibly silent, and just beyond still, as George really put those strong arms to use, and pulled Matty up into his lap. With shaking thighs, and slow breaths, he kissed them like the world was ending all around them. Fingers digging into their hips, as Matty was forced down onto the mattress with an audible thud, and George crawled over their body with a desperate look of something else in his eyes.

Matty cried out and cursed under George's hands, impossibly big, and curled around their cock, bringing them to release in strong, quick strokes. George knocked their heads together, pressing their lips in close, but not really kissing Matty; focused instead on the heat, on the warmth between them, on keen fingertips and trembling thighs.

They lay there and and mumbled. Babbled and babbled like they had before: breathless and drawn out, spread across George's bed, and talking to no one in particular, as George stumbled for a packet of tissues, doing his best in cleaning up the mess they'd made.

And then, even as they lay there, significantly more naked than they had been before, with Matty's head curled up into George's lap, and George's fingers curled around a cigarette. Matty didn't stop talking.

"You don't shut up, do you?" George was amused more than anything else. "I wondered, you know? If this might be the one thing that'd shut you up, but it's the absolute fucking opposite."

"Mmm..." Matty trailed off, cheeks turning red. "I've got a lot to say."

"Like what?" George implored. "What of value? What do you actually have to say?"

"You didn't fuck my mouth, you know? Everyone fucks my mouth. This is proof, if I've ever fucking seen it - you're different, this is different, this is real, and this is- this is fuck... this is us, and it's not what anybody else thinks, and I... I don't care, I don't fucking care, because I... you're everything, and I... I'm fucking... overwhelmed with it. This is special, I know it."

"That's an awful lot to base off one blowjob." George couldn't help but comment, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

"If I know anything, it's blowjobs, so trust me on this one." Matty declared, staring up at George's ceiling. "God, Gemma's gonna- fucking hell... doesn't matter, honestly, she's just going to be pleased I'm not going after her boyfriend, for once."

"You're terrible." George grinned, running his fingers through Matty's hair.

"No." Matty let out a sigh, their eyes flickering shut. "You're terrible."

"Dickhead." George's tone was far too affectionate, as he stubbed his cigarette out, and moved to press a kiss to Matty's forehead.

Matty grinned, with a thousand retorts just on the edge of their tongue, but not a single one that was really worth it. Instead they leaned back into George's side, finally still and silent under closed eyes.

In the end, they fell asleep like that, slowly, with hush whispers drawn out over the next half an hour. And for the first time, they'd actually expect to find each other in the morning.

-

hey guys hope u enjoyed this

lov u sm

would mean a lot if u wanna vote and comment would be nice but ofc u dont have to