Undead // Matty Healy // George Daniel

#5

George's P.O.V

I look around the house trying to come to terms with how big it is. There's another hallway, probably with about 3 or 4  rooms, just on the downstairs. I wonder if Ava is one of those stuck up posh bitches and that's why she doesn't want us here. Because we're average. Average guys with barely any money (who has that much money at 20, anyway?) and she doesn't want us messing up her house. While I'm climbing the stairs, which are, by the way, spiralling, and seem to go on for a very long time, I remember what Brodie said about her father, and I remember it was Ava's fathers house to begin with, and I almost feel bad for calling her a posh bitch. Almost. 

I glance down the hall ahead and try to remember what room Brodie said. Something like second to last door on the ... right? No, it was left... I think. 

I walk back and forth deciding which door it is, and I'm sure I don't want to walk in on Ava ranting to herself about how me and Matty are way out of place,so it takes me a while. It doesn't help all the doors are closed, but I finally settle on the last on the left. I'm sure it's right. I press my weight down on the handle and open it. But something stops me. A muffled sob from the room.. next door, maybe? I turn and lean closer in, trying to expose my ears to the sound better. It's hard to hear where it's coming from, and it's not getting easier. It's gone quiet again. I turn back towards the bathroom, but another whimper snatches my attention. I sigh in frustration, but I'm not sure why. I feel conflicted inside, do I help or do I ignore it? I know it's Ava, I know I wouldn't usually help. But I feel compelled to. Maybe it's because we're stuck in this apocolypse alone - bar Matty and Brodie, who are probably chatting like old buddies downstairs, by the way - and maybe I feel like if I don't help now she won't help me later. She's probably heard me moving around anyway. Letting out another sigh I listen for another whimper and then follow the sound. Finally I push on the handle of the room next to the bathroom, and I'm right. 

Ava sits like a young child who's been traumatized. Her knees are pulled up to her chest, her cheeks, from what I can see, are tear stained and red. Her hair falls over her shoulders and I can't see her properly but I know she's shaking. She doesn't know I'm here. She continues whimpering and I continue staring. Should I say something? I'm not so good with words. I should get Matty up here, he'd know what to do. I don't want to though, I want to comfort her. And I don't really know why. 

You can't just not say anything. Just say something, just something. 

"Hey, um... don't do that." I feel like laughing at my own words because I sound pretty fucking thick. Yeah, I probably should have just not said anything. 
Her head snaps up and her red eyes focus on me. Her glance becomes stern. I suddenly feel vulnerable. Me, vulnerable. What is it about her eyes that are so intoxicating but so controlling? Even when they're puffy and red from crying. 

"Did no-one ever teach you any manners? There's a thing called knocking." Her voice is quiet and sad, but angry at the same time. I feel, in caprice, to dive down and hug her, but I don't. There's something about crying people I just can't figure out. I can't deal with it. Not well, anyway.

"You're just going to stare? Can you leave, please? What are you looking for?" She's sharp and her voice has quickened, now. She scowls when I open my mouth to say something but nothing comes out. I'm trying to think of something quick and smart  to say, something to really piss her off, because that's what she's doing to me, but all I can think about it how sad and pretty she looks at the same time. 

"I was looking for the bathroom but I heard you so I thought I'd ju-"

"Well maybe you thought wrong, and maybe you should learn not to barge in on people. And maybe you should get some fucking manners and not just camp out in someone's home because you can't take care of yourself, and then mock them when they point a fucking gun to your head, because they don't want 2 strange men in their house?! Have you ever thought about that? Why are you even still here?" 

There are still tears falling, and they seem to be coming faster than ever, but the agression in her voice never deteriorates. And the fire behind her eyes just burns brighter and brighter. 

"Listen, I'm sorr-"

"Leave! I thought I told yo-" 

That's it. I usually try to start as little conflicts as possible. But jesus. christ. 

"WILL YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP FOR A MINUTE!" The words burst out my mouth before I even have time to think, but I don't regret them. Yet. 

I slam the door with my foot, and walk closer to her bed. She stares, stunned, and still angry, I can tell. Her mouth presses into a thin line, then twitches as though she's going to talk, but I cut in before she has the chance. 
"I'm trying to fucking check if you're alright, yeah? I know you don't like me and whatever and I know you don't know me either, but I'm just trying to be good. I didn't even want to come in here, but I had to. I'm not as much of an asshole as you think, I'm not going to let you cry in here alone, am I?" 

Her mouth is still partially open, and her habit of looking hard at me before she addresses me is becoming uncomfortable. I blink, waiting for an answer. But she just stares. And then slowly, slowly, crumbles into a mess of tears again and turns away. And I know what she wants. She wants me to leave but she also wants someone -maybe not me, but someone- to try and help her. And I don't really know what to do. Do I hug her? Do I say 'It's going to be ok'? I don't even know what's wrong. And whatever it is, it's probably not going to be okay anyway. 

I'm sitting on the end of her bed. I'm watching sadness strangle her, I'm watching her choke on her own tears. And all I can do is force myself to bring her into a hug. 

She pushes against my chest and hits it a few times, at the same time burying her head into it. I just keep my grip around her strong and scrunch up my face. She's strong. Eventually she just gives up and slumps against my body. I know her tears will stain my shirt and tomorrow she'll probably hate me for this, but weirdly, I find myself not caring one bit. And I'm angry at myself for that, because of all the times to fall for a girl, it's now. And of all the girls to fall  for, it's her. 

{I HOPE YOU LIKE IT SO FAR SORRY THIS CHAPTER IS SO MUSHY LMAO BUT I THOUGHT IT WAS CUTE SO }