i think i love you • matthew healy

8. candlelight

matty

i find myself smoking more often.

i'm shit at being mindful of my vices--being mindful of anything, really.

but this morning after having breakfast with my girlfriend--who came back from paris just a few hours ago--i just had to excuse myself and smoke on the porch to avoid her. she didn't even ask why i took a chair and a book with me. i think i've been here for an hour. just me, my cigs and my overly worn copy of walt whitman's leaves of grass.

"we should have george come over tonight." i hear her say from the dining area. i peer over my shoulder to see her juicing a lemon.

i groan. "sure."

"yeah? maybe we could cook something nice for dinner, like a salad or something."

fucking hell. i roll my eyes to the back of my head. "yep, sounds lovely."

george dislikes her immensely, obviously.

although knowing george, i suppose he'll show up regardless. just to be nice.

i just wish he could quit being a fake twat and tell her upfront. but then that would feed my ego and that wouldn't be healthy for my being, so i don't know really.

"are you alright, matty?"

i jump at her sudden presence, frowning at me whilst holding a glass of lemonade. "fucking hell, gabriella, you came out of nowhere."

"you've been acting so distant since i came over." she says, ignoring my remark.

i squint my eyes at her. "we're not... sorry, but we're not doing this again, love."

"if you want to tell me anything, matty, trust me i'm all ears." she sighs deeply. "i don't want you all up in your head again. is this about me not being around?"

no, it's about you being around.

"matty you know i can call my shoots off if you want me to." she rambles on, and i'm looking at her trying to feel sympathy but i just can't seem to get it, fuck me. "i can have them when you start doing shows again, that way we can spend time here in london however you want."

"no, gabby, listen." i clear my throat before throwing my cigarette on the ground. "it's not about you. you can fly off to rome or new york, literally anywhere. i'm just feeling a bit off, i probably just got a headache. you don't have to be thinking about me."

she nods slowly. "i'm just really concerned about you, matty."

i get up from my seat and kiss her cheek insincerely. "don't be. don't think too much."

to be frank, i'm the one who's thinking too much, but she's definitely not the person i would want to talk to about the things that go on in my head.

—

george had come around at about 8.

my girlfriend had done a pretty substandard chicken salad, and halfway through our dinner i had rang up a pizza place to order a big serving of shrimp scampi to go with the white wine george brought with him.