When Matty first woke up, he shrieked. This wasn't one of those quiet inhalations of breath from surprise, but rather an outward explosion of surprise that knocked the man beside him right out of the bunk.

"Owww." George groaned in discomfort, sitting up and running his head tediously.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. You can't scare me like that!" Matty exclaimed, head too hurting from the adrenaline caused by momentary terror.

"I didn't even do anything to scare you, though. I was sleeping." George complained.

Matty chuckled, finding George's morning temper adorable. He too sat up, grabbing his friend's arm as he attempted to pull him back into his bunk.

"You slept with me, and I didn't know it. That's surprise enough. In the early morning light, I thought you were an intruder, set out to destroy me and only me." Matty stated defensively, because he hated being wrong.

"I'm not gonna destroy you, Matty." George snaps, and then lets out another groan. "My fucking head hurts."

Matty laughed again, pulling George's head towards him, causing the taller boy to complain yet again.

"If you keep groaning, Georgie, our bus mates are gonna get the wrong idea of us. We don't want that now, do we?" Matty smirked, staring devilishly into George's brown eyes.

"Oh, fuck off, will you?" George complained, rolling over so he was faced opposite of his best friend.

"Fine. Then I guess you don't want one of the world famous Matty Healy head massages, then?" He smirked, and then George stiffened.

"Why the ever-loving fuck are you so complicated?" He whined, covering his head with a pillow, but removing the soft device a second later when it made his head throb. Matty also took notice of a small tent rising under the covers, and he couldn't help but laugh.

"Perhaps another time then, huh? I'll just be off then." And with that, Matty climbed over George to exit the bunk, making sure to 'accidentally' rest his hand on his friend's crotch as he went, confirming that George was just the littlest bit excited by this whole ordeal.

"Fuck you, Matty." He heard him mutter just before he slipped to the other side of the curtain, heading to the small kitchen set up on the bus. It truly was small: just a counter, mini fridge, microwave, and kettle for coffee or tea.

He went about making himself some coffee, listening to whatever song played lowly on the bus's speakers. It was some song by Justin Bieber, he could understand that much - and debated if anyone would be pissy if he changed the station to something a little more ... meaningful.

In the end, he walked up to where the radio was and turned the knob until he heard 'Rooster' by Alice In Chains playing. He then turned up the volume knob a decent bit, and went back to brewing coffee, knowing damn well that the music's volume was sure to wake everyone else on the bus up. He just didn't care.

~

"Have you told George yet?" Matty's mother asked him, and he felt bad for rolling his eyes. Denise Healy had called Matty early that morning: having heard from Ross about her son's collapse onstage. She was worried, and just from talking to Ross, she'd gathered that neither Ross, nor Adam had heard about Matty's illness.

"No, Mum, he doesn't know." Matty said, glancing over his shoulder to find that George had disappeared somewhere - probably the bathroom.

"Why haven't you told him, Matthew? He's your best friend. He has every right to know." Denise asked, debating which side of the family Matty's stubbornness had come from.

"Because I have the right to not tell him, Mum. Why aren't you supporting me on this? This news would surely kill him much faster than this illness could ever kill me." He stated, picking at some lint on his light blue shirt.

Denise sighed, and Matty couldn't help but feeling like a huge disappointment to his mum. He was right, though; this was his choice to make. In his mind, George not knowing what was bound to happen was a good thing. He wanted George to be happy, and not worry about Matty. If George knew that Matty was dying because a few thousand blood vessels had decided to go off track and seep where they didn't belong within his head, he'd never be at peace.

It was bad enough that Matty knew that, when he died, George wouldn't know how to live with himself. George could barely live on his own now, and that was why they had decided to live together - and the fact that they were so hopelessly in love with each other, of course, but that was on the down-low. Okay, George wasn't unstable. He wasn't nearly as unstable as Matty, but he did know that George was completely reckless when it came to loss. He'd learned this when Matty's nan had died, and George seemed to be far more distraught than the woman's own grandson was.

Death seemed to be the one thing that really made George crack, as it did with most people. Death was one of the leading fears around the world, or rather loss in general.

"Matty," her voice was soft. "I love you. I want what's best for you, and I know that you may think that not telling George is what's for the best, but when you do die, it's only going to hurt him worse. He should know what's happening, so it's not so new to him when it happens. You should give him time to prepare for a life without you. Losing your best friend, Matty, it's about the same pain as losing a family member. Sometimes it's worse."

"I love him, Mum." Matty says suddenly, and he awaits anxiously for his mother's reply.

"I know you do, Matty." She spoke, minutes later. "I've always known it."

"And you're okay with it?" He asked, chewing on his lip.

"Matty, it's not like I have much choice in the matter do I? Love isn't a choice, after all, is it? I've kind of always figured you'd be into guys." She said, and Matty couldn't help but detect a smile through her voice.

He rose an eyebrow, walking towards the window to watch the clouds move through the atmosphere.

"You knew I liked guys? But Mum, I've always brought girls home to you. I've introduced you to girls, dated girls. I've never ever given you any leads that I like guys, or rather George." He rambled.

"Matthew," Denise was laughing now. "I know about those girls. Sure, you've dated girls in the past, but no fire in your eyes has ever shone as bright as when you are with George. I'm your mother, and I know you far better than you think I do."

"But I never even told you I was gay. I'm not. I just- I like girls, but I also like George. But George isn't a girl, no. George is- he's George." He continued.

"Whether you like boys or not, you like George. Also, you've given off that gay vibe ever since you were little. You're not as subtle as you think you are." She chuckled.

"I love you, Mum." Matty said, noticing George had walked into the room again, a questioning look on his face as he saw Matty blushing. "I've got to go."

"Alright. I love you too, Matthew. But please, consider talking to George, yeah?" Denise asks.

Matty huffs out a breath. "Alright, Mum, I'll think about it. Love you, bye." And then he hung up, and George moved to stand beside him as he continued to stare out the window at the clouds - a mix of nimbus, and cumulonimbus clouds; as they typically were in England. Very rarely was the sky ever clear.

"How's your mum?" George asks, turning to face his curly haired best friend.

"She's good, just wanted to check up on our touring." Matty said, and he was only half-lying. She really did want to know how their tour was going, but she was more concerned on Matty's illness than any number of fans at a show.

"That's good." George said, huffing out a breath, which fogged up the glass.

Matty turned to look at him then, watching the way the early afternoon light illuminated his friend's face, and the way his brown hair stuck up at weird angles. His gaze travelled to his eyes, and the way you could get lost in their chocolate color, and the way he always smelled faintly of stale coffee and cigarettes.

When George took notice of Matty staring at him, he tried desperately to not meet the boy's gaze; but eventually, it happened. Their eyes remained on each other for a good few minutes before he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"What're you staring at?" He asked, a light blush creeping onto his face.

"I don't know, what are you staring at?" Matty asked, blushing equally as hard across his face.

"I don't know." George muttered, and finally looked away. A second later, Matty's arms were wrapped around his torso and his face was pressed into the taller of the two's chest. "Matty, what are you-"

"Shhh," the shorter boy shushed him, dramatically bringing his index finger to George's lips. "Stop talking."

He breathed in his scent, tickling George and causing him to giggle as he placed his hands on Matty's shoulders.

"You're so weird, Matthew." He stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world - and it kinda was.

"You like weird." Matty stated simply.

"Yeah, I really do." George smiled, and they remained like that for a while. They didn't really know exactly how long, but it also didn't really matter in the grand scheme of things, did it?

~

It was midnight, two hours after the band had finished up yet another show in the U.K., and they were all getting ready for their journey across the Atlantic for the U.S. branch of their tour. They'd been packing up all of their belongings from the bus and were loading it into a cab that would take them to the airport.

Their latest show in Swansea had been tiring, and the four lads wanted nothing more than to get a good few hours of shut eye before they were to play in New York City in two days. It was Sunday, a day that should've been a day of rest; but for them, that was never the case. They were always busy: playing shows, going to interviews, promoting themselves, meeting with their management...

The Monday they were given off had seemed like the perfect mixture of ambrosia and nectar to their sleep-deprived wounds.

"Is that everything?" Ross asked, just before they were due to take off.

"Yep, I just triple-checked." Waughy spoke up, exiting the bus with his saxophone case in hand. He missed the last step, face having been covered by a pair of sunglasses due to his fear of them breaking if they were anywhere but on his face. Ross was quick to catch him, however, and John could do nothing but stare at the taller man gratefully.

When neither made any move at releasing the other, Adam cleared his throat to capture their attention.

"Hey, so, when you guys are done like, eye-fucking or whatever, we've got a plane to catch." He spoke up, and again, neither made any movement to register that they'd even heard Adam - their gaze remaining fixated on the other.

"Come on, guys," Adam whined. "Even Matty and George are more subtle than you, and that's saying something."

That made Ross and John separate, and caused George and Matty's cheeks to redden. Eventually, everyone gathered into the cab, though it was a tight squeeze due to the lack of available limousines at midnight on a Sunday evening - if that made any sense at all.

Once they'd gotten onto the freeway, Matty cleared his throat.

"And for the record, Hann, we're not fucking, or eye-fucking, or whatever else." He said, and then went back to resting his head on George's shoulder.

"Hm, perhaps not now, but one day. It's so blatantly obvious that it'll happen." Ross joins in, and Waughy tries his best to suppress a giggle.

"You are wankers, the lot of you. And also for the record, we haven't even kissed - not that that's any of your business." Matty snapped, and maybe he was just tired from a not-so-perfect night's sleep, or he was trying to target George, but regardless, the man spoke up.

"Why don't we all just shut the fuck up and get to America, yeah?" He asked, rolling his eyes as the other four stared at him in bewilderment.

Just when everything seemed to be calming down, however, Ross decided to speak up again.

"Yep, George is definitely PMSing, Waughy. You owe me five quid." He snickered, and then George proceeded to punch the dark-haired man in the arm.

"Fuck you."

After that, the car ride was silent. And then the time in the airport was silent: the boys only speaking when absolutely necessary. From the entire day's events, Matty understood it would be a very uncomfortable flight.

~

They'd landed in America, New York City to be exact, and had immediately been mobbed by fans at the baggage claim. Once the airport security led the crowd of mostly girls with a few boys as an exception away, the guys were able to leave in peace.

Adam, John, and Ross went off in one cab while George and Matty took the other. Ross had insisted that it'd be easier for John to stay with him and Adam, seeing as his room had two beds and futon couch while Matty and George's only had the two beds. In Matty and George's case, the two beds were even a stretch. Everyone knew that they'd be sleeping in the same bed anyways.

Once everyone was settled into their hotel rooms, Matty found himself face-first in the mattress, exhausted from a show and a night's travel. Even though it was only seven p.m. in the U.S., it wasn't a surprise to anyone when he began to snore lightly - George following in his trail soon afterwards.

~

"Oh my god, my back hurts so bad." Matty woke up to George's complaining - which was usually what he awoke to nowadays, not that it was necessarily a bad thing.

He yawned and sat up, this time not surprised to see George lying beside him, hand clutched behind him. Without thinking, he reached forward and ran his hand down the taller boy's exposed arm. Another observation: George was currently shirtless, and if anyone were to enter the room at this given moment, they'd be in a questionable situation.

"You okay?" Matty asked tiredly, and George winced, and then turned over to look at him.

"Did I wake you? I'm so sorry." He asked, lower lip jutting out apologetically.

"No, no, no, George." Matty said, hushing the boy beside him. "You didn't wake me." It was a lie, but he didn't want to upset him any further than he already seemed to be.

"You sure?" He asks, eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"Positive. Now, you're saying your back's hurting you. Anything I can do to help?" Matty asks, hand running down George's arm again.

George tensed under Matty's touch, and he couldn't help but smirk.

"I don't know, I just know I'm in pain. All that travel and sitting for so long..." He said, attempting to crack his back but just causing himself more pain in the process. Matty's hands continued their journey across his back and shoulder blades, and George gasped once Matty's rough fingertips had reached the small of his back.

"You're so tense, babe. I think I could loosen you up if you'd like." He smirked, tongue darting out of his mouth briefly as he looked at George's shell-shocked form beneath him.

"You don't have to, Matty. It'll work itself out eventually, and, oh..." George groaned once Matty began to press his hands firmly into his back.

"You were saying?" Matty chuckled.

"I want you to massage me." He practically begged, stretching his body out on the mattress as Matty left the bed, promising to 'be right back.' He walked hurriedly across the green, carpeted floor to the bathroom, finding a complimentary bottle of lotion on a palette and walked back into the main part of the suite.

"Relax on your stomach." Matty ordered, crawling back onto the bed, a wide smile crossing his lips. In Matty's head, massaging George was like a dream come true to him. He'd fantasized being able to touch George all over: in both the sexual, and nonsexual way. In most fantasies, though, one of the two did typically end up naked. In this case, both of whatever they'd been wearing previously of the treatment was what they wore throughout it.

On the mattress, George was a groaning mess as Matty worked his hands expertly across his back and shoulders.

"H-how'd you get so good at this?" George asked, voice shaky from being pressed down for so long.

"My mum used to massage my back after a long day of badminton, and she taught me." Matty said, and then proceeded to work out the knots in George's neck, and even going a step further to stimulate his scalp.

"You're amazing. I could stay in here all day." George exclaimed, practically moaning at the amazing sensation.

"Go right ahead, but when I'm done here, I'm going to get a shower, something to eat, and then maybe sleep some more. You did wake me up, after all." Matty smirked, and George turned his head to face the shorter man.

"You told me I didn't wake you." He whined.

"I lied."

"You're a dick."

"You like dick." Matty smirked.

"Maybe, or perhaps I just like you." George winked.

"Sly," the curly-haired man said. "It seems you're learning from the professional then."

The taller of the two rolled his eyes. "Matty, there's nothing professional about you."

"Yes there is," he argued. "It would appear I'm a professional tease." And with that, he pinched George's left butt cheek and then laughed as the taller boy thrusted against the bed reflexively.

"Fuck you, Matty." George groaned.

"I wish you would." And then the massage was over, and Matty had locked himself in the bathroom, washing off his hands and turning on the hot water for a shower.

Spite the inevitability of death that laid ahead for Matty, he'd honestly never felt more alive than he had in that morning.