"Matty, mate, you've got to wake up. We've got a sound check in less than an hour." George called to his best friend - and potential lover - who lay motionless in his bed. He wasn't dead, not yet at least, but he just didn't feel he had the strength to get up that day, having been exhausted from writing until the sun had risen that morning.

When Matty didn't immediately sit up, or even move, George walked further into Matty's room, which was typically off limits to everyone. George wasn't everyone, though. He was George. He was Matty's George, and he couldn't seem to recall a time in when he was not Matty's George. Matty was lying amongst the stiff sheets, still, staring at the white, cracked ceiling above him. For the briefest of seconds, George actually did believe Matty was dead, but then the smaller of the two blinked, and his chest began to rise and fall a bit more noticeably. Then, his light eyes drifted towards George's dark brown eyes slowly, carefully.

"I don't want to get up." He spoke, voice hoarse from not having drunk anything in the past twelve hours.

George sighed, taking a seat beside Matty once the curly haired man had sat up. His dark brown, curly hair seemed even more of a mess than it typically was. Immediately, George could tell Matty had been pulling at it again - an old habit of the older of the two.

"You've gotta get up, Matty. We need to go to soundcheck. Ross is there already, and I'm pretty sure Adam and John have gotten to the square as well. As usual, we're going to be late if you don't get out of bed now." He said sternly, leg brushing against Matty's hip affectionately.

"You just said they'd expect us to be late, George. I'm going to sleep. Go away." Matty said tiredly, turning to lie back down, but George was quick in hooking his one arm under Matty's legs as his other arm went to his back, lifting the shorter man out of his bed. The curly haired lad let out a whine at the loss of warmth from his blanket, but burrowed into George's build, less than slightly mad at his best friend.

George proceeded to carry Matty out of his bedroom and into the bathroom, making the boy sit on the edge of the bathtub as he went to fetch some clothes for him. If Matty had been the one to collect his own clothes, George could have guaranteed that Matty would not return from his room again for several hours. So, he went about grabbing Matty a pair of ripped, black skinny jeans and a white t-shirt. He grabbed Matty's black doc martens and carried the outfit to the bathroom, where Matty remained, head lolling against the tiled wall.

"Matty, mate, you've got to shower. I got your clothes, you can do the rest. I'll be in the kitchen. If I don't hear the water within the next three minutes, I will not hesitate to bathe you." George snapped when Matty failed to show any interest in his friend's clothing selection. Sure, maybe he was acting ridiculous, but he was tired and George was like - the best thing to ever happen to him, or something like that.

George left the bathroom then, heading to their shared flat's tiny kitchen, popping two sets of bread into the toaster.

~

Matty remained on the edge of the tub, staring at the outfit George had picked for him. It didn't seem complete to him, and he figured he'd maybe sneak into George's room before they left and grab his jean jacket. He really liked wearing George's clothes more than his own, but he'd never admit that. A whole one hundred and twenty seconds passed, and Matty knew if he didn't at least turn on the water, George would be back in the bathroom in under sixty seconds now. He turned on the hot water, letting it steam up the room as he undressed lazily. Just before stepping into the bath, he let a little bit of cold water run through the spout, though the hot water would still scald Matty's skin. And maybe that's what Matty needed now, something to make him feel something.

He'd been to the doctors in the last week, and learned he was suffering a slow-paced brain hemorrhage. That was part of the reason Matty didn't sleep at night, for if he laid flat too long, he could feel the blood rushing around his head in ways a regular system would not run. Most days, his eyes looked bloodshot, but he was able to act as if he'd just snorted cocaine or smoked weed. So far, this cover-up worked well for him, but he knew it was only a matter of time before George really caught on. He was even questioning Matty now. From time to time, Matty would temporarily forget something, and that's what had led to George's suspicion to begin with. The friendly giant wasn't as dumb as he appeared to be.

Ten minutes later, Matty stood in the shower. The heat was beginning to leave, causing small gooseflesh to arouse on his skin. He knew they were running late, but he was just comfortable where he was at. He wasn't really feeling the music anymore. Hell, he wasn't really feeling anything anymore. It was his teenage years all over again, but it wasn't at the same time. He wasn't a teenager filled with teenage angst this time around. No, Matty was dying; slowly, but surely, Matty was dying. The lukewarm water turned cold, and he felt that. He felt the intense drop in temperature, and he felt the way George would most definitely be worried about him now. So he left the tub.

He dried off relatively quickly, seeking any warmth he could muster from the dingy pink towel and then proceeded to get dressed. He would definitely grab George's jacket before they left, for he was even starting to feel cold now. It seemed as if his blood cells had stopped producing as quickly as they used to; and it left an odd, empty chill deep within his bones.

He turned on the bathroom's fan, watching the steam from his shower slowly evaporate into the system, and then left. George was waiting in their kitchen with two plates of food outstretched in his hands. Each plate held two poached eggs and some wheat toast. Pepper was sprinkled lazily on the eggs.

" 'M afraid we'll have to eat these on the way, seeing as you took a good twenty minutes in the shower." He spoke, seemingly joking, but of course there was a deeper meaning behind it. Whenever Matty Healy was involved, there was always a deeper meaning.

"Thank you, George," Matty said quietly, wanting desperately to say more but his voice betrayed him. He settled for a light smile instead, but George seemed too focused on whatever thoughts were running through his head.

George didn't have to answer, because Matty knew that it wasn't a problem, and he would be willing to do anything for him. They each made their way to the door, holding the plastic plates idly in their hands. Just before George could open the door for Matty, the smaller of the two slipped back into their house and went to George's room, coming back two minutes later in the taller man's denim jacket.

A small smile crept onto George's face after that. "You love that jacket, don't you?"

Matty nodded curtly, hurrying from their house to the cab waiting out front for them.

"I might as well just give you it. Do you want it?" Matty only looked at him, pulling his lip between his front teeth.

"No, George, it's yours. And what's the fun of wearing something that's mine? I like taking it from you better." He smirked, pulling the material closer against his shoulders. George only smiled. Of course Matty wouldn't take his jacket. He didn't like being traditional. It was always a guess as to what he'd do or say next, and that's what George liked best about him. He wasn't boring, like so many before Matty; he was like Christmas morning every single day, or something like that.

"I get you." He said eventually, seeing as the shorter boy had been staring at him for a good three minutes now. When he looked into his eyes, he saw clouds for the briefest of seconds - like Matty left his own head for a bit, but then he was back to normal, with only the slightest trace of a frown left on his face.

"I suggest we get to the venue, yeah?" Matty asked, trying to cover the temporary absence that had taken over his brain for the time being.

"Yeah."

The rest of the ride was silent; but not an awkward silence. Matty sat behind the cabbie, staring out the window - no doubt thinking about some lyric or something he should really write down. George sat beside him, as he typically did, and watched him carefully. His own head was clouded with nothing but Matty, but that wasn't odd, because that's what he typically thought of. The older boy amazed him in every sense of the word - from his curly brown hair to his prominent ankle structure, he was so gone for this boy.

"Could you not stare at me please? It's a bit creepy." He spoke, voice low, and George's cheeks tinted a light pink.

" 'M sorry." George said, eyes falling to his fingers which had been tapping a rhythmic beat on his kneecaps for the last five minutes now. The cab slowed to a halt, and the cabbie turned to look at George expectantly, as if to say 'pay up or get out.' So, George paid him, and made his way out of the car, speaking a quiet "thank you" just before the door slipped shut. Matty was already making his way inside the venue, no doubt looking for Ross, John, and Adam ... or just wanting to be alone. Either one was highly likely, but George believed it was most likely the latter of the two.

He made his way inside shortly after, stopping only briefly to speak with a fan who'd grabbed his arm just before he could slip inside. Once the typical session of 'I'm your biggest fan' and a few selfies were over, as well as an autograph, George was surprised to find Matty, Ross, John, and Adam sitting around on a conveniently placed sofa in their assigned room. Ross and John appeared to be arguing over something while Adam sat, legs crossed, with a phone in his hand. Matty just sat on the edge of the couch, drinking from a water bottle and staring at George tentatively.

"Oh, look who finally decided to show up. Romeo, how was your little walk off yonder?" Ross asked, taking notice of the gentle giant first. He carded a hand through his dark hair, a smile crossing his freshly shaven face.

"Got stopped by a fan 's all." George shrugged, taking a seat on the edge of the coffee table.

"Mmm, you're late. You and Matty both. What happened to the lot of you?" Adam asked, joining into the conversation after setting down his phone.

"Weren't you paying attention, Hann? We went over this when Matty walked in." Ross stated, gesturing to the curly haired boy who sat drinking his water idly, amusement spread across his face. "What're you snickering about, Healy? You're in just as much trouble as Georgey here."

"Technically, I'm an adult, and you're not my mum. Thanks for the concern though, Ross, mighty nice of you to care for me that much." Matty spoke up, setting down his water and moving to sit beside George.

"Oh, I missed you guys!" Ross shouted suddenly, pulling the both of them into his arms. "You'd think with us having been off tour and all in London, we'd have seen each other more."

"Well, tour's starting back up, kicking off in London, my friend, so you'll be stuck with the lot of us again first thing tomorrow." John announced, smiling widely. This was his first tour with the boys, and he couldn't help but feel wave after wave of excitement hit him.

~

The show was amazing - as it typically was. The crowds were exuberant, singing along to every lyric thrown at them. At one point, George broke his drumstick in the middle of 'Sex', but continued playing spite the broken equipment. When the group left the stage, a smile plastered itself on Matty's face.

"We did it, George." He said once they'd managed to escape Adam, Ross, and John. "We managed to play another amazing gig." He pulled George into a hug, and the taller man couldn't help but to hug Matty back. He laid his cheek against Matty's soft brown curls, and breathed in the scent of tea tree shampoo happily.

"It was all because of you, Matty." He spoke, rubbing his back affectionately.

"No, it was your drums and the passion that you played with only one stick through 'Sex'. The fans loved it." The curly-haired lad argued, poking George's cheek.

"I'm pretty sure they didn't take much notice to that, Matty. The way you hopped around on stage, spite being exhausted, that's admirable." George smiled, actually going so far as to leaning down to kiss Matty's cheek. That caused an even brighter smile to make its way onto Matty's face.

"Are you ever going to really kiss me, George?" He asked, lighthearted tone turning serious. George sighed, taking Matty's hand and leading him to a couch in their preparation room. Ross, Adam, and John had gone out for a drink - also celebrating another great show.

"Matty, I want to kiss you." He started, but Matty raised his hand up as if to silence him.

"Then why don't you?"

"I want to wait. I want the time to be right, and I want it to be meaningful. I don't want it to be when we're both sweaty after a show. I want it to mean something." He said, cradling Matty's face sympathetically.

"You suck, George. You're a righteous idiot. I- Every moment I have with you, it means something to me and I- I don't- We never really know how much time we have left on this earth, do we? You mean so much to me, George." Matty sighed, a silent tear sliding down his cheek as he nuzzled his face into George's neck. "I just want to be yours."

"I want that too, but we just can't right now, Matty. Some day, though, it'll happen. We'll happen. Everything will be perfect, and we have time, Matty. We have so much time." George said, rubbing his thumb soothingly against Matty's arm.

'I don't.' Matty wanted to say, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Everything was so great between them, and even if George was scared to act on his feelings, they had something special. The thought of Matty telling George this heartbreaking news would surely kill him. He loved George, and he knew deep down, George loved him too. If soulmates were real, it was inevitable that these two were soulmates. What they had was pure, beautiful, innocent; and like everything, someday, it would be gone, but probably never forgotten. People would remember Matty and George's love, no matter how selfish it seemed. If people could remember two angsty little teenagers who killed themselves after having known each other for four days, claiming they were in love, who's to say nobody would remember Matty and George - two men who'd known each other for years, lived with each other, and really knew what love was. These two weren't Romeo and Juliet, and this wasn't a temporary infatuation. This had been growing for years, and only got stronger every day. It was real, and real remained real.

Even after Matty was gone, and George would join him much later in life - hopefully - what they had would still be real. Love never dies, even when the human does.

"I love you, George." Matty said quietly.

"I know." George replied, resting his head against Matty's, oblivious to just how short of a time he had left with Matty. In his mind, he had the rest of their lives, forty years at least. He hadn't realized that in actual reality, he had less than a year.