19. numb

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a/n: oh god it's been a month, i'm sorryyyyy

ps listen to beach baby by bon iver while reading this chapter, i dunno it just came on while i was writing and thought it was fitting. that's all thanks i love you guys a lot x



matty

my tired eyes shift to the numbing pain on my leg where rhiannon's head is.

i could smell her hair from here, is that too weird of a thing to say? it doesn't smell of shampoo or anything of that sort, but it smells like her.

i wish i could bottle up whatever scent makes up rhiannon's existence and mist it all over me. i wish i could sketch an outline of her on a big blank canvas and frame it around this dark, bland, pathetic, fucking expensive home...

i can hear her snoring softly. did she even sleep last night? probably not.

i reach my hand out to brush the strands of her hair away from her face, and her lips form into a lazy smile.

i wish my heart would stop feeling so fucking warm whenever i see her.

"matty..." she mumbles softly.

i wait for her to finish talking, but she stops, curling up her tiny frame around my torso, hugging my knees.

it's 2am.

"we should—" i get up so i could attempt to carry her with both my arms, which is impossible seeing as though i'm still pretty much half-hungover from the drugs and the alcohol. i haven't been the most fit person in quite a long time, anyway. i groan. "we should get you to bed, yeah?"

she frowns, her eyes closed shut.

"i'm so tired." she says quietly.

i'm so tired.

"i know you are, love." i whisper back. "come on then."

i untangle myself from her again, mustering up the strength to scoop her with both my arms.

fucking hell do i need a workout.

rhiannon's shallow breathing is the only noise in my flat apart from the sound of me struggling to bring her from the living room to my bed.

"you're funny." she whispers, giggling.

i sigh exasperatedly, because it's 2 in the morning and my frail body structure carrying her isn't a joke to me, jesus. "why?"

"nothing." she replies.

silence. we're just about to make it to my bedroom when she—

"i miss sleeping in the tub with you." rhiannon says after awhile. "is that weird?"

i blow air out from my nose. "you mean you miss us crying in the bath?"

"no." she sighs. "just... it just felt like us, you know?"

i think about it for a moment.

"are you thinking about it, matty?" she opens one eye to look at me.

i chuckle, looking at her in this dim light. "it does sound fun."

it doesn't really, but i miss having her stupid ideas run around in my head that all i want to do right now is to give in.

and so i find myself carrying her weight to the bath, struggling to turn the light on using my elbow. rhiannon's just giggling, her chin resting on my shoulder. i feel her lips creep up behind my ear, her fingers lightly tugging on a few of my curls.

"i like your socks." she giggles. i look down at my mismatched pair of black and white fuzzy socks. i roll my eyes.

"you know i could drop you on the floor right now." i warn her. she opens her eyes only to watch me as i'm looking at her, smirking.

"oh, like you would, matthew."

the bath is quite larger than the one i had back when i was living with the guys, which is a fucking relief because that one was mad uncomfortable especially for two.

i groan as i lay her down in the corner bath before stepping in myself, and my socks almost cause me to slip, which causes rhiannon to burst into laughter that echoes around the room.

"you're mad." i smile at her, just as she reaches her arms out to pull me in like she's wasting no time.

"and you're fucking stupid." she chuckles, running her fingers down my scalp onto my neck and behind my ears.

i could easily fall back to sleep with her doing this. i push my head gently towards her chest.

"matty?" rhiannon whispers.

we must have been quiet for about fifteen minutes. maybe twenty.

i can barely keep my eyes open. her fingers are buried in my hair.

"yeah?"

my voice lingers in the air as she goes quiet again.

"can we have pancakes tomorrow?"

i don't remember the last time i had anything for breakfast, or the last time i felt my chest feel so warm.

"okay." i whisper, smiling to myself like an idiot.

i wish my heart would stop feeling so fucking warm.

i think i love you • matthew healyDär berättelser lever. Upptäck nu