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Show Me Yours | Matty Healy [5]

chapter five, act one: antichrist

October 15th 2012

Tommie sighs as she drops herself down onto the old crooked chair at the table, rubbing between her brows, her glasses on top of her head. George looks up from his laptop where he’s working on a demo and Ross glances from the work he’s looking over.

“What’s wrong?”

She shrugs, drawing shapes into the wooden table, stained with cups rings and cigarette burns, “Just… long day.”

“Tell me about it.” Ross mutters, adjusting his glasses on the edge of his nose.

“Hey, how come us two are the only ones with jobs and you three get to roam around all day doing nothing.”

George pauses looking up, “Us three are making music.”

She shrugs, “Ross and I make the music too, I help with lyrics, he does bass all alone.”

Ross nods quickly, “Yeah, we go to work, slave away all day, then come home to have to put up with you lot.”

“Yeah.” She echos, nodding as they both sit side by side staring at George across the table.

“Well, look at it on the bright side, we have a month before the album is finished, then a further two months until it's out, then we’re touring for months, you two can quit and live off the money of the people.”

The pair slowly look at each other, “Three months?”

“Yes.”

“If any old ladies come in and shout at me the way they did today, I’m quitting on the spot.”

“Okay.”

“If she quits, I quit.”

“Then we won’t have an income.”

“We’ll sell pictures.” Ross shrugs.

She nods, “Of our feet.”

George rolls his eyes, trying to hold back his grimace, “Just, three months. Okay?”

She nods slowly, “Okay.”

Ross subtly high fives her under the table, as if they didn’t plan this over text ten minutes before she got home.

Out of the five living in the house they’re the only two left working, Matty and George quit almost two months ago, and Adam, a week ago so he could start focusing on helping with the last bits of the album.

Right now, both Adam and Matty are going over the new album design with an artist and Jamie, who has now taken on the role of manager for the band.

“When’d you get that?”

She looks down at her arm, the new tattoo staring back at her, it’s a little pair of cowboy boots.

“Yesterday. Roddy and I got bored.” 

“How many is that?”

“Nine.”

She looks across her arms taking note of the little ones she can see, a quote from her poetry book, ‘I love you, don’t you mind?. Arctic Monkeys humbug logo, an old vintage looking frame on her left arm, the exact same spot that the box sits on her right just above her ‘the 1975’ tattoo. She also has a ‘the strokes’ logo on her left arm, 505 on her wrist, with three little stars on her waistline, dipping just below her underwear.

“You two have an issue.”

“Talk to the penguin, Ross.” She mutters, turning back to her little leather book and jotting down some ideas.

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November 2nd

“Baby…” There’s a pause, and she blinks into the darkness thinking she’d heard it, “Tommie…Tom!”

She stumbles out of bed, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand as she opens her bedroom door, “Roddy, what’s wrong?”

He tosses a hoodie from a pile of pillows and blankets he’s holding then steps into her room, “What are you doing?”

“You have the fire escape room, we’re going outside.”

“You could’ve just gone out if you wanted a smoke, don’t wake me-”

“No, come with me, please.”

She sighs leaning over to check the time on her phone, 1:02 am. 

She follows him out as he goes outside but pauses when he starts moving up, “Where are you going?”

“To the roof, we can see the stars better.”

“We’re in the city, Roddy, you can’t see the stars, dead remember?”

“Just,” He sighs, reaching a hand blindly behind him until she grabs a hold of it, “Come on.”

When they get up there he drags two deck chairs to the one wall and wraps a blanket around himself, passing the other to her when she settles down.

He plucks a joint form behind his ear, showing it to her with a grin as he fishes in the pocket of his pyjama bottoms for a lighter.

“Want some?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never…”

He shrugs, placing it between his lips as he starts lighting it, taking a long drag and blowing the smoke out away from her. 

He tilts his head back to stare at the dark sky, she’s right. There’s not a single star in sight, just the moon.

“Okay.”

He turns to look at her, “Okay?”

“Give me some.”

He raises a brow and shifts his deck chair closer to hers, holding it out to her, she goes to snatch it but he brings it back, “Don’t be so eager.”

She sends him an unimpressed look and he grins as he leans over, his other hand holds the back of her neck, angling her head towards him as the other presents the joint to her.

“Inhale.”

She wraps her lips around it, breathing in deeply, when the smoke hits her lungs she coughs and he laughs rubbing her back, “You Hanns. Adam reacted like that too.”

She shoves him away when he teasingly pinches her arm and takes it from him to try again, this time it’s much easier and she turns to blow the smoke in his face, still coughing a little as she giggles.

“I can’t do it.”

He looks down at it then back at her again, “Come here.”

“What?”

“Just, come here.”

She scoots her chair closer but he shakes his head, “No, Tommie, come here.”

He pats his lap and she raises a brow, he leans over catching her hand and tugging it slightly.

She doesn’t give him the complete satisfaction of sitting in his lap, she forces herself into the tiny gap on the big chair, forcing him to close his legs that were once laying open.

“This’ll be easier.”

“What will?”

“To take it down,” He says, clearing his throat a little awkwardly, “But if you don’t want to, you don’t- you don’t have to do it. If-”

“I’ll do it.”

“Yeah?”

She shrugs then nods, “You guys, you do it all the time. And Adam never lets me, I wanna see what all the fuss is about.”

He nods quickly, lifting the joint back up between them, his free hand playing with some strands of her hair. Wrapping the red hair around his finger then letting it unravel again.

“Do it, Matt.”

“If you don’t feel-”

“Just do it.”

He nods, dropping her hair and cupping her cheek, using his thumb to tilt her chin down towards him. His other hand lifts, breathing in the joint and then cupping her face, the rolled up joint brushing her cheek as he brings her mouth to his.

He taps her cheek with one finger and she breathes in slowly, his free hand travels back to her neck, massaging the nape slowly as he pushes her closer.

She finally moves her hands from where they’d been folded in her lap, one threading through his hair the other fisting his hoodie.

She shifts when his tongue meets hers, straddling his lap, when he presses forward with a groan she pulls back, hand sliding through his to snatch the joint from him and take a long drag.

She giggles when she sees his face, eyes wide and lips red, he tries following her lips for another kiss.

When she tries pulling back he reaches up for another kiss, hand on her neck pulling her down as she blows the smoke into his mouth.

It continues like that for almost an hour, sharing ‘kisses’ under the stars, passing the joint back and forth until eventually they’re quiet. 

Tommie is curled up beside him, tucked under his arm, his pinky brushing across her forehead and down her nose, her legs curled over his lap.

He starts humming under his breath and she groans, “Please, stop-”

“What?”

He laughs knowing they both aren’t the best fans of the singer, “Look, it’s a shit song-”

“It’s about his dead son.”

She shrugs, “It’s still shit, isn’t it though?”

“If I was Clipton,” He breaks off in a giggle, “If I was Cl-A-pton, right here, what would you say to me.”

She sits up and turns to him then clears her throat, “Sorry that your kid’s dead, but work on your music.”

She falls back against his chest, “It’s not a good song, I’m sorry, I just- I don’t like it. Besides, he’s an arsehole, he’s a bad- a bad person. He’s like,” She lowers her voice to a whisper, “A racist.”

Matty giggles suddenly as he stares at the moon peeking through the clouds, “If you-” He pauses and groans as he adjusts in the chair, hand settling on her calve, rubbing up and down through her Star Wars pyjama bottoms, “If you could have anything in the whole world- no universe what would it be?”

“Right now?”

“Mhm.”

“Garlic bread.”

She closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, “I really want garlic bread. But like, the little dough ball cheese ones,” She turns her head to look at him, chin resting on his shoulder, “What about you?”

“The moon.”

Her hands run through his hair, scratching at his scalp causing him to let out a content sigh as his eyes fall shut, “Mmm, that’s nice.” He leans further into her, “Nana used to do that.”

Her hands move slower at that, and he relaxes even more mumbling out an ‘i miss her’.

She smiles, head awkwardly leaning on his shoulder from her position, “If I could give you the moon, Matty, I would give you the moon.”

“Well,” He stands, stretching his arm, “We can’t get the moon, but we can get garlic bread.”

“Right now?” He nods, tugging her up by both arms, “It's two in the morning.”

“Don’t care, let's go.”

⋆｡ ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

November 27th

Tommie rolls over in bed, she watches the time change, slowly the number one changes to a 2 and then there’s the familiar knock.

1:02am.

“Baby?”

She grins to herself, every night at one Matty gets out of bed, gathers himself some blankets and hoodies, and forces her to the window and up to the roof with him.

She opens the door, acting as if he’s awoken her for the third week in a row and not that she’s been lying away for the past three hours waiting.

“No wait,” He grabs her arm before she can push open the window and stops her from walking over, “Don’t wanna smoke today,” He looks down, cheeks tinting slightly, “Can we just… stay here?”

She hums, sleepily rubbing her eyes and falling back onto her bed, he stands there awkwardly, his usual bundle of fluffy blankets in his arms.

She lifts her head to look up at him, “You getting in?”

He nods quickly, kicking his slippers off and throwing the blankets on top of her. He folds his glasses up, placing them besides her on top of the closed record player she uses as a bedside table. He smiles as he looks at the two pairs, his squared frames and her curled ones side by side on top of books, notebooks and a mess of other things.

Then he lays down on his back, looking over at her as she adjusts to sleep on her right side. “You wanna watch a film?”

“Hmm?”

“A film?” He asks again, “I can get the DVD player in here. Instead of dragging the tele in in the middle of the night.”

She nods, “Sure.” Her face pressed into the pillow, eyes closed as she sighs.

He jumps back out, runs to his room and slows down when his ears are met with the snores of his roommate. He quietly creeps back in, pulls the box out from under the bed then grabs the old DVD players and a DVD.

He runs back, closing the door softly and smiling even softer when he sees her spread across the bed.

“Tommie.”

“Hmm?”

“If you want to sleep we can just do that.”

She shakes her head, “I’m awake.” She sits up on her elbows a little, “But a fag might wake me up a bit.”

He smiles as he moves to crack the window a little before getting in under the piles of blankets and digging into his pockets for his cigarette packets.

He takes one out and she looks up, opening her mouth and he twirls it around to place it between her lips. He takes the lighter out of the almost empty packet and then lifts it up, cupping over the cigarette to light it.

“What film you got?”

“True Romance.”

She rolls her eyes, “Don't roll your eyes at me, you’ve never seen it.”

“Yeah, but I know what happens from the amount of shit you talk.”

He smiles sheepishly then leans back against the pillows as he sets the player up, “Just… watch.”

“Mhmm.”

She looks at him in the corner of her eyes. Smiling as she watches him quote the few opening lines, his mouth moving but no sound actually coming out.

He feels her gaze and looks over, “What?”

“Nufin’.”

“Nothing?” He asks and she nods, smiling to herself again, he raises a brow and reaches to steal the cigarette from her hands, “Quit looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” She asks, shifting to slide further under the quilt.

“Like that.” He says quietly, passing the cigarette back to her.

“Watch the film, Matthew.”

And watch the film they do, she stays quiet for the rest of it, and he looks over everytime a good part comes on to see her reaction.

When it finally ends, the credits rolling, at least three cigarettes now in the dr pepper can she uses as an ashtray, and the window has since closed.

“What did you think?”

“It was good.”

“Just good?”

“Yeah, it was good. I didn’t hate it.”

He scoffs, “That is the best film ever made. It has everything, romance, action, drugs…”

“You want a good movie?” He nods, “Barnyard.”

“The cow film?”

“It's good.” She defends, pushing his shoulder when he raises a brow at her.

“It's a cartoon.”

“Still good.”

He shakes his head, muttering about her terrible movie choices as he gets up to put the DVD player away, by the time he does the twenty second task and returns to the bed she’s curled up on her side, blinking up at him lazily.

“After a good movie,” Matty says quietly, turning his head to look at her when he finally settles again, “Usually I kiss the pretty girl I’m with, you know, kind of a tradition I have.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” His word is whispered quietly as his hand moves to push some hair from her face.

She lets her eyes drift around his face, taking in every little freckle, every little scar and indent on his face.

“You want some pie?”

She giggles but pushes herself forward to meet his lips, hands threading through his curly hair at the back to bring him closer.

He moves closer, sliding on top of her, pinning her down with his weight, hands either side of her head.

He lifts his thigh between hers, one hand moving to cup her jaw, pushing her face upwards with his thumb so he can kiss down her neck.

“Roddy?”

“Hmm?” He doesn’t move, pulling at the neck of the jumper to kiss down to her collar bone.

“Can we-” She swallows and avoids looking down at him, and at his lustful eyes that watch the way her chest stutters when he kisses the right spot, “Can we stop?”

His head is lifting immediately, thigh moving to give her space, “Y-Yeah, Tommie, I never-”

“No, no, don’t think it’s your fault, Matt. I’m just too tired. It's three in the morning.”

“Are you sure?” He asks quickly, moving so he’s laying on his side beside her, “If I did anything to make you uncomfortable-?”

“No,” She shakes her head and moves over to cuddle into his side, “You make me comfortable, Roddy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He leans back into the pillows, letting her lean her head on his shoulder as his arm wraps around her, “I’ve never-” She breaks herself off with a yawn, “Never kissed anyone before.”

“Liar.” He declares quietly into the darkness of the room.

“I’m serious.” She tiredly giggles, “Never even held hands with a boy.”

He lifts his other hand to play with her hair, twirling it around and tugging softly, “You’re a very good kisser.”

“Mm?”

“Mhhm.”

He sighs and looks up at the ceiling, leaning his head against hers, nose brushing her hair line, smelling the shampoo from the shower she’d had just before bed.

“I sleep better here,” Matty mutters as he wraps her red hair around his finger, “With you.”

He lets the hair unravel before picking a new strand to do it again, “My mind doesn't have to work as hard. When you’re here I just… just focus on you. Just you.”

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