It was weird. Things were different. Matty could physically feel things changing around him, and innately that would just always be something he was opposed to, but there was no denying that this time around it, things were better - this was the good kind of change. It still put butterflies in his stomach, and the worst kind of thoughts in his mind, but they were different butterflies and different thoughts, and perhaps this was a different kind of bad, a lower standard of worse, and in that, things were definitely changing for the better.

Matty, of course, however, had to admit that he was hardly the most relaxed of people; he couldn't just drift through life without a care, and when he tried to do so, what he imagined as drifting was in reality just him ploughing through it, and destroying everything he loved around him. Additionally, he always been one of those people who'd be reluctant to believe in the miraculous nature of happy endings, and things turning on their head for the better, but it seemed that life itself had taken quite the turn just to prove him wrong.

This was all, of course, just so weird. It wasn't something he was accustomed to: the presence of another in bed beside him, someone to turn the mush of his brain back into words and sense again, full nights of sleep, proper meals, proper showers, proper life, proper living. It was all subjective, of course, but there was this part of Matty, hidden away at the back of his head, out of sight, that insisted that this was just how it was supposed to be, for Matty at least.

He couldn't help but question the truth to that claim, as after all, things had gone so wrong before, and perhaps the idea of him and George actually dating properly, for a long time, forever, seemed so out of reach, looming over him, somewhat nauseating. It wasn't dread placed within itself, however, but dread in what Matty had pinned down to be the inevitabilities of the situation: dread of the fallout, of the mess that followed, going through those four months again, picking himself up and putting him back together again after he'd trusted every piece of himself to George.

There was little question, however, about the fact that it was something Matty wanted, but he regarded with an elusive kind of want, like he couldn't quite convince himself that it really could happen, like he couldn't fully trust in the fact that this wouldn't all just fade away before he could even get comfortable in it. He came to conclude that perhaps he just wanted it too much, and in that, he was too scared, and everything came crashing down on him at once in a great mess of expectation and anxiety. He never wanted to have difficulty trusting people, especially not when it came to people like George, who he should trust without question, but there were just some things about himself that he struggled to even comprehend, let alone change.

He came to an understanding, and within that understanding he happened to come to accept that weird was definitely the way forward, and that he might just have to get accustomed to it all, to be comfortable with the uncertain, the unknown, and when it came to the butterflies in his stomach, focus not on the sensation, of the way it tore him apart, but of the butterflies themselves, of the beauty in the colours, of the wonder in the beats of their wings.

Matty wondered if perhaps there was some good in everything, as long as you were prepared to go out and find it, and as to whether that was always worth it. He wasn't entirely sure of that, but he found himself growing evermore certain that in this instance, it certainly was.

He'd let the sunrise pass him by, as he lay there in bed, drowning himself out in his own thoughts, this time, however, he'd found that he'd managed to stay afloat, or at least accept that there was life at the bottom of the ocean, just as there was above it. Everything was about perspective, really, and Matty couldn't help but find that he'd found himself stuck in such a singular way of thinking, and that in doing so, he'd very much trapped himself in a certain part of his head, and it was now that Matty could truly appreciate just how much of a bad thing that was.

Everything about the start of his 'new life', which he'd proclaimed to just about everyone who'd talked to him, which as of present, was exclusively, George, Adam, and Ross, seemed so very daunting, but simultaneously, so very exciting, inspiring, something like that. Whatever it was, it felt like something, and although Matty just couldn't pin down the exact nature of that something, he just wasn't entirely sure that mattered. It was perhaps more about what you did with the feeling, than the specifics of it in the first place.

There was definitely power in the kind of change you could revel in, and Matty found that he'd had so very little power over his own life, or at least felt that way, for such a long while now. In the sudden change, there was no avoiding the looming shadow of expectation and uncertainty, but this time around, he was determined not to focus on his own shadow, no matter how great, and no matter how dark, outstretched behind him, but upon the light and the world that spanned out for miles and miles in front of him.

And with that all, there was the sudden spark of a notion, that despite all odds, things were going to work out this time. They were going to be happy. He was going to be happy, and that meant the entire world.

He came to terms with the daylight, and the prospect of getting out of bed, setting his brain back into focus with reality, a good twenty minutes after he'd first awoken, having at first allowed his brain to drift off and ponder his situation, because that was of course, natural, and good for him, but only to an extent. That went for everything, there was just always an extent, a boundary, a line to cross, he couldn't help but admit that he often struggled in placing that line.

His bedroom was now beginning to fill with the warm glow of morning light, seeping in through the gap in the curtains, not quite closed, from last night, as they'd only noticed once they were already quite comfortable in bed, and the thing was just that getting out of bed in that state had certainly been the last thing on their minds. He reached out towards the bedside table for his phone, nearly dropping it as he pulled it away from the charger, but eventually succeeding to pull it back into bed with him.

The time displayed on the screen told him that it was still pretty early, just past eight, and he spent a good minute or so debating whether or not to wake George up yet. Eventually, however, he came to recall the instance in which George had insisted to him that he should wake him up whenever, and that he wouldn't mind. Matty was sure that applied more so to when he actually needed to talk to him, and not just when he wanted someone to make him a cup of tea because he was too lazy to get out of bed himself, but, of course, George had never actually specified as such.

Matty placed his phone down on his pillow, turning over to face George, who had managed to bury the majority of his face against the pillow. He was awfully cute, really, even fast asleep, hair sticking up at all angles, drooling onto a pillow. Matty had to admit that he was definitely getting soppy, but if soppy seemed to correlate so strongly with happy, then he had to accept that maybe soppy wasn't such a bad thing after all. George was beautiful, anyway, there was no denying that. Even as he lay so soundly asleep, and so blissfully unaware of the world.

"George." Matty began, watching George's face carefully for any signs of motion or acknowledgement of Matty's voice. It seemed, however, that he was yet to stir. Matty grew impatient, tapping gently against George's arm, trying again, louder this time, "George."

"Mhmmm..." George let out a muffled kind of groan in response, leaving Matty unsure as to whether he'd actually heard him or if it was just a noise he'd made in his sleep.

"George." Matty's voice grew louder still, and he resorted to shoving him slightly, gently as possible, because Matty couldn't help but be so terribly cautious of hurting him. "Wake up."

It was then that he began to blink slowly, struggling to open his eyes, his brain yet to quite fully comprehend what was happening. "What...?" His voice was low and muffled, as he began to blink faster, attempting to focus his vision upon Matty, and kept himself from falling asleep again.

"Wake up." Matty let out a sigh, leaning closer to George, and pressing himself against his chest. "You're so warm..." Matty closed his eyes momentarily, "how are you this warm?"

"I'm hot." George's response was a little delayed, his tone slow and equally as quiet. "That's why." Regardless, Matty couldn't help but let out a little snort in response. "Don't laugh at me, it's true." George grumbled, poking at Matty's arm.

"Yeah..." Matty dragged out his response, "alright." He glanced up at George, grinning. George had just about gotten to the stage where he was capable of keeping his eyes open now, and Matty found himself awfully proud of his progress in waking him up.

"Are you awake now?" Matty asked, moving so he was laying with his face directly opposite George's.

George groaned a little more, reaching up and rubbing his eyes, "I guess I am. What time's it?" He asked, words still slightly slurred together.

"Eight." Matty told him, watching the way George frowned slightly, and coming back with a very quick response, "don't look at me like that, you told me to wake you up. You told me it was fine." Matty had taken care in ensuring that his words were expressed much more light heartedly, but still, George met him with an awfully sincere kind of apologetic look about him.

"I did." George cleared his throat, stretching a little as he rolled onto his back, taking a moment to properly adjust his eyes to the light of the room, before sitting up a little, and turning back to Matty. "And I'm awake now. Look. Properly."

Matty smiled, burying himself under George's arm, with his head against his chest. "Thank you."

George couldn't help but blush, not in anyway imagining that managing to pull his brain into a coherent state of consciousness was particularly worthy of any sort of thanks. He thought, however, that it was better not to express this, as he found that he was just relieved to find that Matty seemed to be listening to his advice. "You alright? Nothing wrong is there?" Matty seemed to be in a relatively good mood, but George felt that it was just better to check.

"Yeah." Matty gave a nod, confirming the truth behind it in a brief look they shared. "Just a bit lonely when you're asleep. Missed you."

George laughed, grinning down at Matty, who couldn't help but fall into a blush. "That's awfully sweet of you." He leaned forward, kissing Matty on the cheek, pressing their foreheads together as he found himself so very reluctant to pull away. "I'm right here you know, though."

Matty sighed, fumbling for some great explanation of how he'd felt, but coming to accept that perhaps they were better off without it, and instead, moved to kiss George again. This time, he kissed him on the lips, Matty took charge, seeming to forget how they'd both just woken up, or not seeming to care.

It was George that pulled away after ten seconds or so. He grinned, tucking Matty's hair behind his ear. "You've got morning breath. I've got morning breath. Don't be disgusting."

Matty rolled his eyes, just a little offended at George's accusation, despite the fact, that however, it was just unavoidably true. "I want to kiss you, though. Like a lot. Like all the time."

George groaned, laughing, "you really are disgusting."

"Shut up." Matty shoved him gently, unable to hide the way his cheeks rather quickly grew quite a vibrant shade of red. "I didn't wake you up for you to insult me." He shook his head in mock disbelief.

George just couldn't help but smile. "So what did you wake me up for?"

Matty paused for a moment, shrugging, "to make me a cup of tea, mostly."

-

"You look fine." George assured him, leaning halfway into their bedroom through the doorway. "Honestly." He added, as Matty glanced back at him, bottom lip pulled back nervously between his teeth.

Matty had never really been all that concerned with his appearance, well, excessively so, but George had stood waiting for him to get ready for a good twenty minutes now. George was pretty confident that they were going to be late to Ross', but he reckoned that letting Matty know that would hardly help the situation; he'd get into a state, and then things would only get worse, and he imagined that it really wasn't the best of situations for anyone involved.

As Matty turned back around to face his reflection in the mirror, evidently dissatisfied with the pair of black jeans and floral shirt he was wearing at the moment, George resorted to pulling out his phone and quickly texting Ross to let him know what was happening.

Ross responded within the next thirty seconds, enquiring as to exactly what was going on, and George could practically see the concern in his face painted in the characters displayed on screen. He didn't much want to detail the entirety of their morning, and the six times Matty had changed his mind about going entirely, to Ross over text message, so instead he told him that Matty couldn't decide what to wear, which was largely true, but really not the whole of it.

George could tell that this was less about the clothes and more of Matty's mental state, because it wasn't really a different pair of jeans that changed the way he viewed himself in the mirror - it was his mind, it was his worries, and George could see that Matty was growing dangerously close to changing his mind about going again.

The thing was, however, was that this was important, and this mattered, this was a first, in a long while, anyway, and it was perhaps just that which left Matty in such a state. It didn't make too much sense, but George had gathered that Matty tended to have very little control over the way his mind worked. That, of course, however, didn't make it particularly easy for George when it came to trying to help him through this.

Matty let out a sigh, seeming to give up as he threw himself down onto the bed, limbs splaying out disheartenedly. He bit his lip, keeping his eyes fixated upon the ceiling, focusing so very hard on just trying not to cry, because they'd have to leave soon, and the last thing he wanted was for everyone to be able to tell that he'd just been crying, that the act of simply spending time with other people had brought him to that kind of state. In comfort to himself, he came to conclude that this just had to be one of his bad days, but truly, he knew that more often than not, there was just good and bad in each day, and it was up to him as to which way the balance swayed.

George's footsteps were slow and gentle against the carpet of the room, and to Matty's mind, already having jumped to the extreme overanalysis of every slight breath and movement, it seemed to take years until George sat down on the bed beside Matty. He reached out, grabbing Matty's hand and wrapping his fingers rather tightly around Matty's, before pulling him up into a sitting position, where Matty allowed his head to fall into George's lap, curls falling messily across George's thighs.

"It's going to be fine." George began, his voice slow - not cautiously so, but more comfortingly so. He began to run his fingers through Matty's hair, feeling Matty move back into his touch as he did so. "You're going to be alright, I promise. You look fine, and honestly, are they going to give much of a shit which pair of jeans you wear?"

Matty nodded, letting out a sigh and closing his eyes momentarily. "They're not. You're right." He sat upright, shifting into George's chest, and letting George slide his arms around him, Matty finding himself unable to care just how pathetic this whole situation seemed, and just what kind of state he'd landed himself in out of nowhere. Out of nothing. "I'm going to give a shit, though. And I look like shit. I just do."

George paused for a moment, not entirely sure what to say in response to that, because there'd never been a single doubt in his mind that Matty was just beautiful, and he'd much prefer if he could manage to communicate that without it turning into a cheesy, meaningless mess. "I don't think you do. You're beautiful, you know?" He laughed a little, feeling Matty burying his flushed face into his chest. "I mean it. It's true."

Matty pulled away slightly, looking up at George with raised eyebrows. "That's you, though. I can't see myself like you do, and I just... I don't know, feeling bad about myself on the outside doesn't much help myself on the inside." He paused for a moment, picking at the duvet absent mindedly as he thought. "I guess it didn't matter much before. I don't know. It's not that I feel ugly. It's just... I feel like shit, and I feel like I look like shit. And I don't want people to look at me and guess that I feel like shit. I want people to think I'm better, that I'm normal."

"Matty..." George reached for his hand, grasping it tight as he spoke, ensuring he had all of Matty's attention. "No one's expecting you to be fully recovered within a few days." Matty bit his lip, looking away. "No, look at me," George insisted, squeezing his hand gently, and pulling Matty's gaze gently back to his. "No one's expecting, anything. You don't need to make this important, you don't need to place everything down to this one day, it doesn't have to be perfect, and that's the thing, because it won't be, and that's fine, because things just aren't perfect. Nothing is."

"I don't want people to..." Matty trailed off, not entirely how best to word it, "treat me like I'm just this emotional wreck, I want to be a person again-"

"Matty, you never stopped being a person." George sighed, daring to think back to how things had been before. "People aren't going to treat you like that, I promise, because I'm not going to let them."

Matty scoffed, lying back against the bed, "so I'm gonna be like one of those bitchy girls who gets her six foot chavvy boyfriend to bash your head into the gutter if you ever say one bad word." He sighed, pushing his hair back out of his face.

"Six foot chavvy boyfriend?" George glanced down at him in disbelief, not entirely sure quite what to make of that. "Not sure that's quite right."

Matty laughed, feeling that little bit better, but still not entirely in the best mindset. "Yeah, alright, you're taller than six foot I'll give you that." He flashed George a smirk, before finding it within himself to get up off the bed, and coming to face his reflection in the mirror again.

"I'm not a chav." George insisted, making quite the effort not to be offended. "Come on, course I'm not, you have standards, don't you?" He sat up, checking his phone to find that they definitely should have left what was now closing onto half an hour ago.

Matty shrugged, grabbing a jacket from his cupboard and shrugging it over his shoulders. "Standards? Sort of... something like that."

"Shut up." George rolled his eyes, making his way back towards the door, in the hope that it'd subconsciously draw Matty closer to leaving. "Not a chav." He muttered, very insistently. It was, however, only that time around that George came to realise that he wasn't really Matty's boyfriend either. He also couldn't help but notice how Matty had also failed to mention that, but of course, he seemed a little caught up in the mess currently flooding his head.

"Ready to leave?" George glanced over him, hopeful as Matty finally turned around, coming to conclude that this jacket was actually suitable, or something like that.

Matty felt himself glancing back at the bed, and he couldn't avoid the fact that he just wanted to spend the entire day just laid there with George, but he didn't want to spend his entire life just like that, so change had to start somewhere. "Tell me I look pretty, and then I'll be ready."

George shook his head in disbelief, letting out a half hearted kind of snort of a laugh. He drew his gaze up to meet Matty's, catching the sort of doe eyed, awkward kind of look ensnared upon his face. "You're pretty. Very pretty. The prettiest-"

"Alright, alright," Matty groaned, making his way past George and out of the bedroom, "no need to get disgusting about it."

George snorted, following him out of the house. "Not being disgusting, just honest." Matty let out another groan in response, but there was no denying the blush that George caught glowing against his cheeks in the light.

-

Despite his nerves, there was definitely something within this all that felt like home, that felt right, that felt not just like the person he used to be, but the person he could become. The simple interior of Ross' house had the kind of peaceful, happy memories that had been buried under the mess of everything else, leaping right back out at him. He thought back and wondered how, back then, everything had seemed so simple, and dinner and had just been dinner, and drinks had just been drinks. Perhaps that wasn't entirely a good thing, however, because there was always more to the world, and Matty had to accept that closing his eyes on all of that just had to be a bad thing.

He came to imagine that if he'd just continued to drift by in much of the same state that he'd spent the last year, and the year before that, he might not be any worse, but there'd be so little hope for getting any better, and there was just no denying that things had never been perfect to begin win. For a start, he'd had this whole awkward mess of a repressed sexuality that he'd spent an awful lot of time just pushing to the back of his mind, to deal with later for years on end. He'd just found himself dreading the act of dealing with it, with accepting the more complicated parts of himself - the parts he was yet to quite get to grips with.

However, Matty knew from the familiarity and comfort held in just the hallway light, and the smell of food from the kitchen, that things could only get better now. As of course, George had been right, and suddenly in the warm glow, of perhaps overly yellow light, and the slight fist shaped dent in the wall to his left, that Matty had once made several years ago as he'd stumbled drunkenly down the hall, nothing else seemed to matter that much, especially not the fucking pair of jeans he was wearing. It never been about the jeans to begin with, though, and they both knew that.

"You alright?" George came to notice the way Matty seemed to have drifted off elsewhere, placing a hand gently against his arm. Matty jumped slightly in its sudden presence, his mind making a rather quick tumble back to the here and now.

He nodded in response, meeting the worried look in George's eyes with a smile. There was something about the genuine happiness behind it that caught George off guard, having expected Matty to have worked himself into some sort of state by now, but instead he seemed to more at ease than he had been all day. As much as this surprised George, he knew it was much better not to question it - this was definitely for the better after all.

"Come on then." He nodded towards the door towards the living room: muffled sounds of laughter and conversation making their way through the closed door and into the hallway.

Matty reached for George's hand, admittedly, a little too tightly at first. "I kind of forgot what it was like, you know..." He trailed off, looking back around the hallway. "It's been forever, and I'm just. I miss things. Things I'd forgotten about."

George smiled, giving Matty's hand a gentle squeeze, before leaning down slightly to kiss him. He wasn't entirely sure where the urge to do so had come from, but really, it was generally there in the background whenever he looked at him - Matty just had one of those faces, or maybe George was just a bit soppy, maybe it was both. The reasoning behind it, however, didn't seem to matter much as Matty leaned upwards into the kiss, reaching his arms up around George's neck. Everything seemed to melt away in that moment: sparks turning into fires, and the world they'd walked out into, suddenly not seeming quite so big at all.

"Uhmm..." What the two had failed notice however, amidst well, snogging by Ross' front door, was the fact that Ross had seemed to have grown tired of waiting for them and had gotten up and come into the hallway himself to see what exactly was holding them up. "Guys..."

He couldn't help but flush a horrible shade of pink as he watched the two of them break apart. There was just quite a difference between one of your best friends coming clean about what had been going on in regards to his feelings about one of your other best friends, and coming to accept and help the two of them through that, and well, walking into a room in your own house and catching the two of them snogging.

Ross would say that he'd done his best to accept the new nature of Matty and George's relationship as normal as quickly as possible, but he wasn't sure that very much could have sufficiently prepared him for that. It was well, shocking really, although it shouldn't have been, and Ross was more than certain that he was just going to have to get used to it, but really, it had seemingly escalated quite a lot out of nowhere.

George groaned, shaking his head slightly, offering Ross an awkward kind of half apologetic smile. "Sorry, mate."

Matty, however, had seemed to have taken a vastly different approach to the situation, and instead resorted to just letting out a breathy kind of half nervous giggle, before clutching back onto George by the arm. "It's disgusting, I know, it's his fault, he started it. He kissed me."

George rolled his eyes in disbelief, looking between Ross and Matty with quite the lack of anything to say. "It wasn't like you didn't kiss me back, though." He raised his eyebrows at Matty, before turning back to Ross, who seemed rather hesitant in coming to conclude as to what he really had made of the situation.

"You're both disgusting." Ross noticed the way Matty was ready to open his mouth again, combined with that fucking looking in his eyes, and knew that it was just better to put a stop to it before the two ended up arguing and breaking up or something over this. Not that they were officially together yet, but from where Ross was standing, they were pretty much married. "Come on." He gestured them into the living room.

Matty came to wonder if he probably should have stopped clinging to George by the arm for when it came to making the impression on just what he'd become in all these months. He supposed it didn't really matter much where Adam and Ross were concerned, but when it came to their girlfriends, who Matty had never really made much of an acquaintance with, as it was, he guessed he'd rather not be that weird one of your boyfriend's friends that you kind of wished would just fuck off but you didn't want to be rude about it.

He supposed, that really, it didn't matter much at all, because if they didn't really matter much to him, then their opinions should hold the same value, and if Matty wanted to be an awkwardly clingy, annoying piece of shit then he was going to take pride in that. Well not excessively so - there was a line with everything, but he couldn't quite brush off his nerves, and he'd gotten into the situation where he'd put George down as his quick fix for everything.

Anyway, no matter how cringey and awkward as he could end up being, he'd never out do the prospect of a fucking triple date, like seriously, of all the things George had agreed to. Of all the things his fucking friends had thought of. However, though, if it was technically a date, then Matty did actually have a viable and reasonable excuse be as disgusting and soppy as he wanted to be.

The others were gathered around the coffee table, sat around on the three sofas that surrounded it. Matty had never been sure why Ross owned three sofas, but honestly it had never really struck him as important enough to bring up and thoroughly question, after all, they were small sofas, and they weren't even that comfortable, but it was then that he found himself suddenly rather grateful, because he just didn't want to sit anywhere other than just with George.

It was only as they did sit down that Matty came to notice the perhaps excessive amount of alcohol that had been set out across the coffee table, which really was a coffee table and not shitty homemade cocktails table. It became apparent that Ross had never got past the 'I'm fifteen and I think pouring some vodka into a glass of ribena is a cocktail' stage, but Matty found that he wasn't too fussed, and instead came to realise that he hadn't really drank much at all for months now.

He'd never made much of a conscious effort to, he'd just always liked drinking, well more in the act of parties and socialising, than actually getting drunk and puking up in someone's toilet. He'd just never really had that much at hand, he guessed it related back to the fact that it had been alcohol itself that had onset much of what had happened at New Year. He guessed that was likely for the best, he easily could have made this much worse for himself and spiralled into alcoholism or something.

Matty thought he should probably make some sort of effort to actually remember the names of their girlfriends before things got awkward, although he was pretty sure that things already were. "So..." He let out a sigh, deciding that he might as well break the silence before it got particularly out of hand. He came to rather quickly conclude that it perhaps hadn't been the best of his ideas, and instead went for a drink. That wasn't one of his better ideas, either. "No offence, mate, but this tastes like shit." He shook his head at Ross in disbelief.

George snorted, tapping him gently with an odd sort look in his eyes. Ross didn't seem to be all that offended, and resorted instead to shrugging, and looking across at his girlfriend, who Matty was like seventy percent sure was called Ellie. Something beginning with 'E' at least.

"He's right." She turned away from Ross and shot Matty a smile. "Told you we should just have wine."

"I agree with wine." Matty added, deciding very suddenly that although he wasn't entirely sure just who this girl was, they were now connected on a spiritual level.

"I agree with not having to drink this anymore." Adam added, picking up his glass rather gingerly, eyeing it as if it contained toxic waste, and well, he wasn't that far off, like for a start, Ross hadn't even watered down the ribena first.

"If you're going to come into my house and insult my drinks..." Ross trailed off, trying to hide the feeling of defeat inside, because really he had tried, sort of his best - he'd put in a good seventy five percent, that was three quarters, above average. His girlfriend shot him a look, Matty was now a good eighty percent sure that it was Ellie. "Go get some wine if you want it, Ellie."

Matty had to restrain himself from fucking getting up and high fiving George or something, because yes, she was called Ellie. Adam's girlfriend, however, he didn't have the slightest fucking clue, but it could be like a fun surprise for later, or something like that.

She got up, stopping to looking at Matty for a moment, "red or white- wait, you know what, just come with." She gestured for him to follow her into the kitchen, and Matty couldn't help but look a rather taken aback, and glance momentarily back at George, who gave him a nod, before sharing a look with Ross, that Matty decided he didn't want to worry himself with, and instead just followed Ellie into the kitchen.

Ellie was pretty, Matty finally took the time to notice, with shoulder length dark hair, and blue eyes, and a very determined look in her eyes as she picked a couple of wine bottles out of Ross' cupboard. Matty wasn't entirely sure why she'd called him over, especially as she seemed confident in choosing the wine herself, but he wasn't quite sure if it was rude to bring it up or not, and he'd came to conclude that maybe he'd quite like it if she didn't hate him.

"Red." He finally came to speak, blushing a little as he caught her gaze. "Red wine, that's what I-"

She nodded, smiling, before leaning back against the countertop and facing him. "I get you. It's fine. You kind of seem like you're shitting yourself in there, and I wanted to let you know that I'm not here to judge you, neither's Rachel." Matty had to admit to himself that 'Rachel' was low down the list of names he would have guessed. "You had a tough time, we all have tough times, it's alright. Maybe not the best way to deal with things, but it's alright, and you're here now and you're trying, and if I or anyone was going to judge you for that that then you've got the right to punch them right in the face."

Matty laughed a little, tucking his hair back behind his ears. "Yeah, I... thanks. I get nervous a lot, I guess." He glanced up at her, offering a thankful kind of smile, or at least he hoped it came across that way. "George said he'd punch anyone that did. Very lovely of him, really."

She smiled, picking another a bottle of wine, and Matty took a moment to wonder just how much she planned on drinking, but then again, it wasn't really his place to judge. "You're cute together. He really cares about you, that's obvious."

"I mean, he puts up with me, so-" Ellie seemed rather insistent on not letting Matty finish.

"Don't put yourself down. He cares about you, he's a bit of an idiot, because really I don't know what he was doing with that other girl for like three months, but you really do mean the world to him, I could tell that in a minute." She smiled at him, "come on, do you think this is enough or should we grab another bottle."

Matty found himself grimacing at the mention of Saffy, who he'd done his best to mostly erase from his memory, and with that nodded to her. "Yeah, go for another bottle." It was however, relieving to find that someone else was just as comfortable in their dislike of her, because through it all, Matty couldn't help but feel like he'd just been a bit jealous, and he definitely didn't want to be the bitchy jealous one.

Ellie seemed to recognise something in the look in his eyes, "it wasn't your fault, you know? I don't know the whole of it, but you definitely weren't in the wrong, okay? And you shouldn't think that you were."

Before Matty could quite produce any form of reply, Ellie had opened the kitchen door again, and started carrying the wine back into the living room. He wondered if that was such a bad thing at all, because really, as much as the insecurities at the back of his mind fought to disagree, she was right.

-

It had been October. It had been louder, darker, walls seeming closer together, but every crack and mark remained the same, because there wasn't too much a place could really change in the matter of eight months. It had been down to Matty, however, to become a different person. Different didn't mean better, but different didn't mean worse, different just meant change, and that was just natural, after all.

October eighteenth, or something like that - he couldn't be exactly too sure upon the date, but it had been around the middle of October, just as the colder weather really began to take its toll. They struggled to make their way over to Ross' house through a slight drizzle that had quickly turned into a heavy shower - they'd ended up drenched the both of them - Matty and George. It took ten minutes, before Matty declared that it was all too much and his hair was ruined, so they'd ran for shelter into the Tesco around the corner - it was sort of halfway between their house and Ross'.

Matty had grovelled onto George for a good ten minutes about how they should really get a car or something, even though they lived in London, and never really went far, because Matty hated public transport, and yet he also hated walking, especially when it was raining. George had simply ended up smiling and nodding occasionally as he continued to groan on, sending Ross a text that they'd be a little late, as Matty camped himself out under a hand dryer in the toilets attempting to dry his hair. He gotten quite a lot of looks, but no one had really dared to say anything with George stood next to him, glaring back at everyone with an equally as defensive kind of look.

The one thing Matty couldn't get out his memory, however, was this one guy, not particularly intimidating looking, at around forty, already balding, perhaps older, but with a young face, glasses, wearing a sweater and a pair of jeans. He looked between Matty and George for a brief moment, before turning to address Matty himself, his tone by no means threatening, perhaps more humorous than anything, but there was no denying that it had definitely struck a chord with him.

It was really more what he'd said as opposed to how he'd said it, though. "Can I ask you to move out of the way or is your boyfriend going to beat me up if I try?"

Matty had remembered his eyes going wide, not entirely sure what the guy had meant at first, until it had all clicked - George. He never said anything in response, finding himself flushing an awful shade of red as he stumbled to his feet, attempting to fix his hair the best he could before stumbling out of the toilets, George at his heels.

It had just felt weird, and as Matty thought about it later on, he gathered that the man hadn't really meant much by it, but there had definitely been something that had gone off in Matty's brain then at the mention of George being his boyfriend. Because, as close as they'd ever been, no one had really said anything quite like that, quite so directly, and the thing had been that Matty hadn't been at all sure how it had made him feel.

He'd resorted, however, to push those kind of thoughts away and deal with it all later, and burst back into conversation as they made it through the aisles of the store. George thought best not to make much of it, and laugh at Matty's terrible attempt at humour, before he came to the alcohol aisle and picked up a bottle of red wine.

George had come to remind him that there would be more than enough to drink there, it being a party, after all, but Matty shook his head, feeling some sort of importance, something he couldn't quite explain as he held that particular bottle of wine in his hand and looked at George through vision that wasn't quite blurred enough, and thought of him through a mind that wasn't quite irrational enough, because it wasn't until the night was over, and Matty woke up the next morning with his head pressed against Ross' fridge, having somehow managed to curl up and go to sleep on the kitchen countertop, that he could quite get the word 'boyfriend' out of his head.

-

It only really hit him once they'd made it back into the living room, him and Ellie, and he'd sat back down next to George, perhaps a little too close to George, but perhaps Matty had been a little too close to not giving a fuck. He placed the bottle of wine Ellie had left him to carry down on the coffee table, and Ross looked between the two of them, eyes wide.

"How much alcohol are we talking?" He scoffed, glancing across at Adam, who didn't really seem at all that fussed by it.

"How much alcohol do you have in your house?" Ellie rolled her eyes, mocking his tone slightly, opening a bottle and pouring herself a drink.

"Well, it's not like it goes off particularly quickly is it?" Ross rolled his eyes, pouring himself a glass. "I like to stock up when it's on offer." He looked down at the glass, looking particularly embarrassed.

"Well, then, it's not like you're going to mind if we drink just a bit." Ellie leaned back in her sit, sipping at the glass of wine, and with that, the others moved to pour themselves drinks, and Ross continued to sit there, sort of half sulking, and a little bit hung up about his disappointing skills when it came to cocktail mixing.

Matty, however, sat there, eyes wide, hand reaching out and picking up the bottle of wine. The bottle. It all came back to him very suddenly, this was the very same wine that he'd held in that aisle of Tesco so many months ago, and he wasn't entirely sure why it suddenly seemed to hold so much meaning, because honestly, it had really been all that good either. Of course, though, it had never been the wine itself, but what had lead him to buy it.

He placed it back down on the table, hesitant to actually pour himself a drink as of yet, and instead looked to George, watching the way he fell back into a casual kind of conversation with the others, and seeing for the first time, that really, much like himself, George really wasn't the same person he'd been that night in October. Matty wasn't sure how he'd failed to notice, but he just wasn't the only person who'd changed amidst this all.

Matty thought for a moment if the change in George was for better or for worse, and to even consider which George he prefered, but that was all bullshit, because you didn't consider a person as each change and variation of themselves laid back across a timeline, but as the whole figure you saw in front of you in that moment. And suddenly, Matty was just a whole lot more comfortable with change when he came to accept that George was changing too right beside him.

The word 'boyfriend', however, still seemed to take the liberty of echoing rather ominously around his head, because that still meant something, but just in a very different way. Back so many months ago, Matty had found himself bewildered and a little intimidated by the prospect, but he sat now, in May, in Ross' living room, and came to accept that it seemed like that'd be something they'd get to.

Really, the more he thought about it, and he found himself suddenly incapable of doing much else, he came to realise that he rather liked the idea of George being his boyfriend. As a concept itself, it was something that Matty found himself drawn to, it was just the complications otherwise that halted him slightly, it was just the worries of taking things too fast and one of them getting left behind somewhere. The thing was, however, that as he thought about it even more, he came to realise that it had always been as such, much more so on a subconscious level, but he'd never really minded the idea at all, and it had all just came rushing up to a much more conscious level of his brain like a slap in the face that night in October.

Matty laughed a little, wondering if he could possibly try and trace it back to something, but came to conclude that it'd come naturally to him at some point, like this had, and if it didn't, then perhaps it wasn't so important after all. He had never been one to put trust in 'fate', in the way things happened around him, in anyone or anything at all, but everything was changing after all.

"Hey." George's fingers curled around his wrist, voice slightly hushed as he came to notice the way Matty had faded away a little. He followed Matty's gaze to the bottle of wine. "Are you okay?"

Matty nodded, turning to him and smiling, "Yeah, I am." He moved so he was spread out across the sofa, back pressed against one arm rest, and legs spreading out across George's lap. "Pour me a drink, will you?" He met George's gaze and nodded towards the table.

George laughed, shaking his head slightly, "get one yourself."

Matty pouted, doing his best to look severely traumatised by his inability to reach the table from where he was sat. "George..." He let out a sigh, "please..."

"Why?" George asked, already half way to leaning forward and just getting him one, mostly to shut him up for the time being. "Why should I?"

Matty pouted, making himself out to look entirely distressed by the whole situation. "Because you love me." He only really came to realise the slightly heavier connotations of what he'd said once the words had left his mouth, but that was also once George had leaned forward and poured him a drink.

And really, Matty just couldn't deny the tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach as he held the glass in one hand, sipping at it slightly, and coming to remember, that the one thing that hadn't changed since that night in October was this wine, because it still tasted kind of shit.

Perhaps that was okay, perhaps that meant something in this all, or perhaps it didn't mean a thing at all. Perhaps the only thing that it held was the power to highlight Ross' incredibly poor choice in alcoholic beverages, and how easily he was swayed by half price deals.

After all, it wasn't so much about the wine itself, but the way it made him feel. Not about the sensation of being drunk, but the act of getting so. Not so much about being who they were, but just how they'd gotten there.

-

After quite a few hours and maybe a little much to drink, they made their way out to Ross' front door. It had been alright, overall - the good kind of alright, it had been worth going to, it had been nice, really, Matty was just a little reluctant in admitting that to himself, as he found himself straddling the line between drunk and tipsy. Not that the slightest differentiation between the two mattered all that much, but he found that his current state of mind at least ensured that he didn't have to think so much.

It was as Matty managed to pull his shoes on, leaving back against the wall, tracing a slight dent in it with his fingers, that Ross reappeared from the living room, wincing slightly as he walked into the hallway, as if he feared that he'd catch them making out again, which really wasn't the most ridiculous of fears, as Matty would argue that it was incredibly likely that it would happen again. He'd have to consult with George first, though.

"Thanks for this, it was nice, wasn't it?" George grabbed his jacket, shrugging it over his shoulders, and turning back to Matty, meeting him with an impatient kind of look, however Matty's brain still took a moment or so to catch up.

"Yeah, it was." Matty nodded, turning to the mirror placed on the edge of a shelf, and taking this as a perfect opportunity to adjust his hair. It really hadn't looked as good as it had when he'd left the house, and then it had hardly been perfect to begin with. He began to twirl it around his fingers absent mindedly, wondering if it really mattered all that much - it was just hair, after all. "Thanks."

Ross smiled, watching as Matty messed with his hair for a while, before turning back to George. He was getting better, that was evident, although quite hard for Ross to really understand in full, but perhaps he'd just have to accept that this fell more on George than it did on him. As, after all, he'd never really understand it to begin with, and George, of course, had.

"Hey, uhh... George," He nodded in his direction, "can I talk to you a minute?" He gestured back to the living room: now empty, as Matty and George were the last to make it out of the door.

George glanced across to Matty - it was something he did without much thought, and it was as he thought about it that he began to wonder just why he'd come to need Matty's input on something like this. It wasn't necessarily a bad thing, and it wasn't like that he'd ignore what he knew to be right in his own head on the basis of Matty's request. It was just a sort of Matty and George thing, he figured.

Matty didn't bother to look away from the mirror, and indeed his own reflection, still messing with his hair, despite the fact, that in George's mind, at least, it had only ever looked fine. He gave a small nod as he did so, and George took that to be in response to the matter at hand, although there was quite the possibility that it wasn't, but still, as he followed Ross back into the living room, Matty made very little effort to protest.

George wasn't entirely sure what it was that Ross had needed to take him away privately for, but he found that his best guess was that it related to Matty. He stood by the table, watching as Ross sat down on the edge of the sofa, clearing some mess around it, including a glass, and a twenty pence coin, and an orange jelly baby that he was pretty sure had fossilised at this point.

Ross let out a sigh, looking up and holding George's gaze for a moment, wondering if there was perhaps a better way to phrase it, wondering if perhaps this was something he should restrain from telling him, but he had this kind of protective gut feeling, and he just couldn't ignore it. Eventually, he just came out with it, as plainly as possible. "So... he loves you, you know?"

George swallowed, his breath seeming to lodge in his throat for a moment or two, as he ran the words back around his head. Ross' eyes grew wide and impatient as he awaited some form of response, and really, George didn't quite know what to say, because on a certain level, he knew, of course he knew, but it was kind of different to hear it thrown out at you like that by someone else.

"I know," was all George could quite come to in the end, but it seemed to suffice for the time being.

"He's going to break if you fuck this up, you know?" Ross continued, stretching his arms out as he spoke. "And we thought it was bad before, but I imagine it'd be worse, and I'm speaking to you as his friend, and honestly, if you fuck this up, I don't even care how complicated it makes things, but if you fuck him up again, then I will kill you."

George couldn't help but feel that things had escalated pretty quickly, and as much as he felt suddenly very uncomfortable, he had to admit that Ross had a point, and a valuable one at that. "I know." He nodded, biting his lip, "I'm not going to. He means the world to me."

"I really hope you don't." Ross got up from the sofa, pulling George into a quick hug. "We're best mates, but things change a little with... things like this, you know? And it's just with what happened last time. No hard feelings, I promise."

George gave him a smile in response, "I know. I get where you're coming from. It'll be okay this time, I promise. Things just... we didn't talk about things last time."

"I know." Ross nodded, glancing up at the clock on the wall behind him. "See you, get home safe, at least wait until you're out of my house before sucking his face off." George groaned, shaking his head in embarrassment, and really, Ross couldn't help but laugh, despite the fact that he'd been the one to walk in on it and remain emotionally scarred forever. "Oh, and..." He paused, grabbing George by the shoulder, "talk to him about seeing a doctor, will you? He's going to listen to you more than he's going to listen to me, and it's important, you know that, don't you?"

George nodded, not entirely looking forward to that conversation, but accepting that Ross was right - it was one that they needed to have. "I will. See you." He gave Ross a nod, before making his way back into the hallway, to find that Matty had finally stopped messing with his hair, but had apparently given up instead, and tied it back into a bun.

Matty looked up from his phone, having resorted to scrolling mindlessly through twitter while he waited, as George pulled his shoes on. He smiled across at him, pushing his phone back into his pocket, and turning back to the mirror, suddenly so very conscious of his appearance again.

"Your hair looks nice like that." George added, watching Matty adjust it incessantly. "I mean it. Come on, let's go." He reached for Matty's hand as he opened the door, coming close to dragging him outside. The thing was that Matty was just awfully reluctant to let go; he just found that he really liked holding George's hand.

Once they had began the walk home, Matty's hand still in George's, and silence began to take its toll: George's mind still back in the living room with Ross, and wondering just what had led him to address it quite so directly. The thing was that, Matty's mind was there also, and it was chewing away at him from the inside, and of course, the eventuality with that, was that he'd come to break the silence, come to voice it all aloud, and in this case, that eventuality came awfully soon.

"This sounds kind of bad, but I heard most of what Ross said to you." Matty let out a sigh, focusing more on the world around them than George, despite speaking to him, and not to the rows of houses, tightly packed onto either side of the street, or the few people making their way down the pavements, or the steady, yet continuous passing of cars across the street that separated the two halves of the street. Or the lamp posts, just beginning to produce a dim, yet golden, and a rusty, yet warming glow, as the sky, now devoid of sunlight, continued to grow darker, steadily amassing darker and darker shades of navy blue.

"Oh." George found that, much as he had when Ross had originally brought him into the living room, he didn't quite know what to say. He wasn't really the best when it came to thinking on his feet, it seemed.

Matty came to continue rather quickly, although his gaze still remained distant, watching birds travel off over the horizon in the far distance. "I wasn't listening in, or anything, it was just... the walls are pretty thin, and you didn't actually close the door properly. I mean, you were talking about me, so it's not like I didn't already know, so..." Matty trailed off, taking in a sharp intake of breath. "I don't think I'd let Ross kill you, honestly, even if you did break my heart or something."

George was a little surprised that it was that which Matty came to comment upon first. "Would you not think I'd deserve it?" George found that Matty finally drew his gaze back to meet his. "I mean, that'd be a pretty dick move. Like such a fucking dick move."

"If Ross killed you, then one of my friends would be dead and the other one would be in prison, and I'd have to go and live in the cupboard under Hann's stairs or something, like Harry fucking Potter." Matty grimaced at the notion, not that he had anything against Adam, or Harry Potter, or cupboards under the stairs, for that matter. "Maybe he'd let me sleep on his sofa." Matty shrugged, "who knows? I mean, let's not find out."

George scoffed, laughing a little, but finding that he pulled Matty a little closer to him. "Okay, not literally kill me, but, I'd deserve a pretty good kick to the balls. You've got to agree?"

Matty paused for a moment, stopping still on the pavement, and turning to hold George's gaze fully. "If it's not going to happen then why are we worrying about it?" He bit his lip, watching as George came to struggle for a response, finding for a moment, that he, himself, didn't quite know why either.

"You brought it up." George mumbled, blushing a little, "I didn't imagine that you would, really, I... guess the whole... love thing... or something."

"George..." Matty trailed off, finding himself far more calm than he'd be with this all if he was completely sober. "You knew it, I knew it. It's just a thing."

"Should we talk about it?" George asked, continuing to walk again, and finding that he was dragging Matty behind him for just a while. "Do you think?"

Matty nodded, knowing that George was right in the fact that they should. "Not here, though, when we get home."

"Yeah." George agreed, glancing around them as they made it off down onto another street. "Not on the road outside Tesco, that's probably best."

Matty grinned for a moment, glancing across at the Tesco as he held George's hand in his. "Do you remember?" He gestured vaguely across at it. "In October."

"No, surprisingly, Matty, I don't remember every individual time we've gone down to buy some bread-"

"No, it was different." Matty explained, sighing a little. "We were on our way to Ross', October, yeah? For a party, and it started raining, like proper chucking it down on the way there, so we ran into Tesco for shelter, and I was like trying to dry my hair in the toilets for about thirty five minutes."

George paused for a moment, finding that slowly, it was coming back to him, although he couldn't quite figure out as to why Matty had regarded that as any form of important or special memory in his mind. "And then you insisted on buying some shitty wine, yeah?"

"It was the same wine from earlier, the shit one." Matty explained, although George still wasn't entirely sure as to quite what his point was here. "That's why I remembered."

"So...?" George didn't want to come across as rude, but he was really still searching for the point in all of this, and by the look in Matty's eyes, there was no denying that there was one.

"It wasn't really about the wine or anything else." Matty continued, biting at his fingernails. "There was this guy there that called you my boyfriend. In the toilets, and I didn't know why that struck something with me like it did, but I guess I know now." He paused, thinking for a moment, "it was that I really never minded, you know? Quite liked the idea. And I couldn't quite understand that then, you know, still thinking I was straight."

"So you're... you're saying you want to be my boyfriend here?" George asked, not sure if Matty had gotten quite to that point yet, but suspecting that even if he was unaware of it, it was there somewhere.

"George." Matty rolled his eyes, almost as if the idea was utterly preposterous, which certainly caught him by surprise. "You absolutely can't be my boyfriend when you haven't even taken me on one date, and no, there's no way in hell that this counts, so shut up."

George couldn't help but blush, thinking to himself for a minute or so, before turning to face Matty again. "So what kind of thing would you have in mind by a date?"

"I think the idea is that you come with up, otherwise it'd really be me taking you on a date, wouldn't it?" Matty grinned, knowing full well that this just wasn't the kind of conversation he'd have so calmly sober, so maybe the shitty wine did mean something after all.

"And what's wrong with that?" George asked, very genuinely. "You should take me on a date."

"George do you remember that one girl called like Hannah or something, that I took on a date once and she ended up getting food poisoning? I'm not good at taking people on dates." Matty grimaced a little at the memory. "Do you want food poisoning?"

"For a start, the food poisoning wasn't your fault, also you were literally thirteen." George shook his head for a moment, coming to accept that Matty maybe wasn't going to give up on this one.

"I was fourteen, George, fourteen! Do you even know me at all?"

"Okay." George gave Matty's hand a squeeze. "Alright then, I'll surprise you."

"You mean take the time to text everyone you know for suggestions, make a mindmap of ideas, circle the best ones in highlighter, make an online poll that you again send to everyone you know, and do the one with the highest votes."

"Matty, that's ridiculous-"

"When you were seventeen-"

"You know what? I don't want to relive that memory, okay?" George groaned, shaking his head. "Maybe we're both bad at dates, don't you think?"

"I don't know, maybe you should take me on one just to test that theory." Matty continued to insist.

"I promise you now, I am not at all liable for everything that can and will go wrong." George groaned, however finding that he was unable to settle the butterflies in his stomach, and the glowing sensation they seemed to radiate from inside him.

-

"Would you really want to get punched in the face?"

Matty's question had come seemingly out of nowhere: stemming from thoughts that had occurred previously in the day, from conversations they'd once been so tangled up in, but had now all faded out into the calm and quiet of the late evening, the dim glow of the living room light, the TV on in the background, on a low volume as neither of the two were really paying much attention.

They sat curled up on the sofa, a mess of limbs constructed as if they'd made a game out of getting the most points of contact between the two of them, blurring the line between where Matty ended and George began. It didn't matter much in the darkened interior of the room, with Allen curled up behind them, empty mugs of tea on the coffee table, and an invisible weight pushing down heavy eyelids.

George had been coming close to suggesting that they go to bed before they fell asleep, ready to make some joke about how he didn't much fancy carrying him into bed, but with Matty's sudden outburst of speech, it came to appear that perhaps he wasn't quite so at rest as George had come to assume. His tone, however, was still slowed slightly: a hesitant kind of mumble that came to reflect the tone of someone wavering over the line between states of consciousness.

"What?" George was evidently less with it than Matty was, struggling to recall as to quite what it was that Matty found it necessary to be referring to. "What are you on about?"

"Earlier. About what Ross said, about if things went shit." There was no question about it now - it had been on Matty's mind, and it had made quite the point out of being so. "Would you really? Like honestly?"

"I mean, I was imagining that it wouldn't come to that, because you know, I don't really have any plans to fuck things up again. I'm trying really hard not to, you know?" George glanced across at Matty, pulling him into his side with a sigh. "But I'd deserve it, wouldn't I?"

"What if I fucked things up?" Matty came to wonder, again not that he was planning to, but he found that he couldn't quite avoid the thought of it. "What if I did? What if it was my fault, would you get Ross to punch me in the face?"

"No-, of course not. I..." George trailed off, biting his lip momentarily. "Ross wouldn't do that. No one would do that, Matty don't talk like that. I mean, you're not planning to so-"

"Why would that be?" Matty reached for the remote, turning the TV, darkening the room significantly, but George's face was still decently visible at the distance Matty sat away from him, which really wasn't much of a distance at all. "That doesn't make sense."

"It's..." George paused for a moment, finding that he, himself, wasn't at all that sure. "It's... you... look, I guess, it's because I fucked up before, isn't it? And then, you, you're kind of... you've got these panic attacks and things, and it's how you think, and then you fuck up, but it's not your fault, because it's how you think, and that wouldn't be fair, I don't think."

"I don't get how making things different for another person is anyway more fair-"

"Also you're about half the size of me. If you punched me, for example, I'm not suggesting you should, right now, but if you did, I mean it'd hurt, but like if I punched you I'd-"

"It's not about the punching, it's not about any of that shit that Ross said. Killing and all that." Matty cut him off, shaking his head. "It's not about that, it's about... How you'd agree for that to happen, because you'd know you'd deserve it."

"I would." George nodded, "hypothetically, of course, I'm definitely not planning anything."

"It's about trusting you, completely, with everything, and how that feels weird, but I still feel safe, I feel better, I feel like... things are different, but suddenly there's no such thing as regression. Like there's no getting worse, like things can't get worse, because I've had the worst, and things can only get better, but then I don't know if I can trust that, but I have to, because I trust you. With everything." Matty let out an awkward kind of choked sob, not at all sure how and when he'd felt tears pooling in his eyes. "And I don't know if you can ever fully understand what that means for me, for us, but I guess, this is... like... I... l-"

Matty was cut off, George reaching up and pulling him into a kiss, the two somehow managing to get closer to one another than they had been before, and in the time it lasted, the rest of the world just seemed to melt away into nothingness, into irrelevance, and various shades of grey around them.

"Matty," George sighed, pulling away, but still making a point of holding him close. "I don't need to fully understand it, I don't need you to understand it yourself either. The thing is, I just need you to know that I feel it too. And that's enough, isn't it?"

Matty nodded, "that's enough. That's more than enough."

Really, it was everything.

-

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