being funny in a foreign language

a wee preview for whoever cares :)

“Can’t wait to terrorise some old ladies and get banned from Venice,” Matty says, with a delighted smile on his face. He nods towards the teachers who are trying to round everyone up, then hooks an arm into the crook of Ross’s elbow and moves them along, leaving Jack behind. “Which boat is it, Mr. Rigby?” Matty asks, in a somewhat flirtatious tone that Ross really can’t blame him for. Mr. Rigby is well fit. Tall, bulky, perfect curly hair with only a few strands of silver that look painted in, and a fun little moustache that makes him look like an old Italian film star. On the plane over, Ross caught Matty staring at him and proceeded to challenge him to very obviously flirt with him, for a laugh and also to ascertain what they all suspect about his sexual preferences.

“Number 2 towards S. Marco,” Mr. Rigby replies in a kind and patient tone. “Not the most direct, but we’re taking the scenic route down the Grand Canal, so Mr. Harrison and I can yap about some of the buildings, if you’re interested in listening.”

“Sweet,” Matty says, smiling coquettishly. “Our very own tour guide.” Ross nudges him with his elbow and Matty catches his eye briefly, then adds: “And he looks like Marcello Mastroianni.”

“Well done,” Ross whispers in Matty’s ear, a grin spreading across his face as he watches Mr. Rigby taking in the compliment and beaming. He’d specifically challenged Matty to say that to him, earlier on the plane, and of course Matty’s already delivering on his promise.

“Oh, that’s way too kind, Matthew,” Mr. Rigby replies, preening a little. “Although I did get that a lot in Rome, when I was studying there.”

“Can’t wait for Rome, then,” Matty replies, winking at him.

“Alright, pipe down, you,” Mr. Rigby says, stealing the words from Ross’s mouth. He pats Matty’s shoulder twice and raises his voice to tell everyone to move forward as the boat’s approaching.

okay this took me a while to select because I don't want to spoil the theme of the party, but here we go 👀

“Oh my god, George. Nevermind my birthday. What about your birthday?”

“What about it?”

“It’s next week.”

“I’m aware of that,” George said, smirking.

Matty rolled his eyes, as if George just wasn’t keeping up. “It’s next week and we haven’t made any decisions about the party.”

“What party?”

“Your birthday party, George. The one I’m throwing for you.”

“You’re not throwing me a party.”

“Um, excuse you, I do whatever I want. Besides, this isn’t about wanting, really. I have to throw you a party.”

(I'm aware this ain't much but I promise the party scene is LENGTHY and JUICY 🥲)

it makes emotional too, trust me 😭 I'm so proud of him, honestly. he's probably the one whose character development I love the most 🥺

isn't it just 🌚

George has really come into his own during the course of this story, hasn't he 🥲 I'm glad you're enjoying the vibes, I promise I will eventually edit this and bring it out ❤️

PREVIEW TIIIIIME, with a bit I wrote so long ago that I managed to completely forget about it 😅

“Oh my god, you were brilliant,” Jack is saying into George’s ear, pure delight in his voice. They’re hugging tighter than usual and the room around them seems to be unusually empty for the aftermath of one of their gigs at Dry Bar. Maybe they were actually shit. Maybe Jack is just indulging him. However it might be, it feels good to hug him.

“Cheers, mate,” George replies, pulling back just enough to catch a glimpse of Jack’s wild blond hair and his baby blue eyes almost shimmering, the brightest thing in the room. And then Jack flashes him a broad smile, perfect white teeth and dimples in his cheek, and George feels a little weak in the knees. “Fancy a pint?”

Jack simply nods at a nearby table, two chairs and two pints already waiting for them there. “Shall we?”

preview!!! time!!!

He sits up, running a hand through his hair, his head spinning, a thought suddenly hitting him. Patience is overrated. Fuck patience. Fuck boundaries. Fuck giving Matty space. He doesn’t need it, or else George wouldn’t be in his bed every single night, kissing him and tasting his skin and feeling the heat of him in his hand, in his mouth, in his heart. He doesn’t want that to be confined to darkened bedrooms and forgotten about until the next night. He wants to hold Matty’s hand in front of everyone. He wants Matty to climb on his bass drum and sing to him. He wants to kiss Matty on stage when they’re saying their goodbyes to the audience and the lights are at their brightest. And then, when they’re finally famous, he wants to sit with Matty on couches for interviews, hold his hand, and be able to smile and simply say, “yeah, we’re together.”

I'm a mess right now guys (as in, life is too full for me to properly concentrate on anything and I am writing a lot less than I want to/should) and I feel like it's already been too long since the last chapter. who wants a preview of George's shenanigans? it's all I can offer for now I'm afraid, but it's something 👀

and preview number 3 :)

“Yeah, fine, we’re in,” Matty echoes. “So wait—you’re both staying here now?”

“I guess we are?” Ross says tentatively, biting back the rest of his question: do you mind? He doesn’t need to ask: he’s well aware Matty does. He minds very much indeed. “Might join later though, like I said.”

Matty hums low in his throat, his expression unreadable. “Hmm. Alright, then. You pop a coupla painkillers, that’ll help. And you keep an eye on him, yeah?”

John brings his right hand to his forehead, saluting Matty. “Yes, sir.”

“Matty, come on,” Jamie nudges him from outside. “It’s bloody freezing here and I’m gasping for a pint.”

“Okay okay,” Matty concedes. “Be good, you two,” he says as he’s stepping out the door. Or maybe he doesn’t say it. Maybe Ross just reads it in his eyes.

an innocent one to start off:

When he flips his phone closed, Ross is left listening to the silence around him. A silence full of sounds. A silence that reminds him of a heated debate they all had as a band about a year ago, when Matty gathered them all to make them listen to John Cage’s 4’33”—essentially four minutes and thirty-three seconds of silence, designed to make the listener aware of every sound around them and bring them to the realisation that perfect silence does not actually exist. Ross recalls how fascinated George was, immediately getting the concept even before Matty could begin to explain it. And also how absolutely outraged Hann got when Matty pressed stop, after the track had ended. How he said that was time he would never get back. Ross glanced between him and Matty, then, and effortlessly pointed out to Hann that every second of his life is time he would never get back. Matty looked at him enthralled, and Hann tackled Matty to the floor and called him a twat.

He holds on to that feeling as he finishes packing, abandons himself in it. His mates, their love for music, Matty’s love for him and its roots that probably dig a lot deeper than he’s ever allowed himself to hope. That’s all that matters, really.

:)

alright my babies, here we are! chapter 20 preview go go go

“How come your hands are so smooth?” Matty asks, leaning into George’s touch. Not quite kissing the palm of his hand, but not not doing that either. 

“I moisturise,” George says nonchalantly. 

“You moisturise?” Matty replies, barking out another laugh.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, s’just very fucking gaaaayyyyy,” Matty says, the sentence ending in a sing-songy tone, the dopey smile on his face growing wider.

“Look who’s fucking talking!”

“How dare you. I don’t moisturise, I just suck cock.”

“Right.” George chuckles, pushes a curl out of Matty’s left eye. “Much more dignified.”

Matty raises an eyebrow, then sits back up. “I’m serious, you know.”

“About the moisturising bit or the sucking cock bit?”

Matty gives him a crooked smile. “What do you think.”

:))))))

here we go, then :)

It’s been great, reconnecting with George. Feeling normal about being around him again. With the whole insufferable business of Ross being grounded, Matty’s had more free time, and he’s spent most of it with George. And he’s very grateful for it, for him, because being with George has helped him get out of many an angsty spiral over the past few weeks. He thought it would be a lot more difficult, finding their stride again after all that happened between them, but they really do seem to have turned a corner. They’ve been writing more and more music together, acoustic and electronic-based tunes that they’re both so excited to finish. Except every time they try to be good and actually finish something, they get distracted: at some point during the long afternoons and evenings they spend together, there’s always something new that George has come up with, or a new song that inspires them, and they end up picking at those new ideas instead of fully elaborating on the old ones. The result of this has been a chaotic and ever-growing mass of audio files stored in their respective computers, a collection of embryos with only one fully-formed song to account for. It’s a great one, though, and despite Hann’s usual reluctance about playing new material live before they’re completely sure they can nail it and George’s willingness to rework the backing track within an inch of its life, they’re presenting it to the world tonight. Unlike Hann and George, Matty isn’t a perfectionist. He doesn’t give a shit if it isn’t one thousand percent there yet: it’s his and George’s big ode to being friends again, and he wants to celebrate it all tonight. That’s how he sold the idea to George, and George immediately agreed. Hann and Ross could only follow.

“Trust me, yeah? This is going to go down well. And it’ll give Waughy some time to shine.” Matty looks at Waughy again, finds him staring at them and then immediately averting his gaze.

“John’s great,” Ross says, with a fond smile, plucking the G string on his bass. “Like, so great. We should’ve done this sooner.”

Matty’s heart feels like it’s been pricked with something pointy. He knows he shouldn’t go there. He knows this means nothing, Ross liking one of his oldest mates. If anything, this is good. Matty wants them all to be friends. He needs Waughy’s talent, too. But still, he’s butthurt about Ross’s comment and he knows he will keep thinking about this all night if he doesn’t immediately ask the question.

“Have you got a crush on him or something?” 

Ross raises his gaze from the strings, looking very solemn. “Damn. Busted.”

here's a preview for you :)

George gets up from the bed, his phone out of the discarded trousers lying in a heap on the floor, unlocks it. Types out a text.

happy new year mate! hope ur having more fun than me. fancy a pint on thursday? x

He sends it out as he falls back onto the bed, exhaustion finally getting the better of him.

When he wakes up, the sun is out, the sky is blue, and the room is bright. It’s the first day of 2007. A brand new year, and he’s started it in Matty’s bed. Sure, he’s alone, but he still thinks it’s quite promising. What’s more, he just glanced at his phone and found a new text waiting for him. Sent just past 5AM, it reads:

happy new year you gorgeous man! I’m super down for a pint on thursday :) hopefully the hangover will have worn off by then xxx

George smiles triumphantly at the screen, then clutches the phone to his chest. He’d never intended for this to become an actual friendship, but he’s never been happier to have followed his gut. If he gets it right, Thursday can be the day when everything changes. There’s hope: now, he just has to harness it.

Of course you can 🌚

“Why didn’t you answer my text yesterday?” Jack asks, looking down at him with an arched eyebrow.

“Oh, I…” Fuck. Well, he should have seen this coming, shouldn’t he. And he can’t very well tell Jack the truth, either, because he barely knows whether he’s imagined any of it. That entire afternoon with Matty, stretching long into the evening, minutes away from each other but still talking on the phone because neither of them could be arsed to get out of bed. You’re my favourite. “I was dead tired yesterday, sorry mate. Think I drank way too much on Wednesday.”

“You did answer my texts though,” Matty pitches in, now fully dressed and ready to go. He unceremoniously leans in and kisses Ross’s cheek, lingering for a moment. Or maybe not, who knows. Maybe it just feels like he’s lingering. Maybe Ross just wants him to be lingering. “See you tomorrow, lads,” Matty says, taking a long look at the pair of them before strolling towards the exit without saying another word.

(I should be getting my shit together and post this very soon, please forgive me for the lateness my life is just complete chaos right now but I promise it's almost ready!!)

My darling I would love to say that there's going to be a chapter on Monday but unfortunately I'm struggling with a giant load of Things To Do In Real Life and also our old friend (not a friend) Writer's Block, so I'm afraid patience will be required once more 🥲 but I can share a snippet of what I have, because I am still excited about this one even if I can't finish it yet:

(please bear with me my life is very chaotic right now but I love you and this story I promise I'm just going through it right now okay bye xxxx)

Yeahhhh why not 👀

“Alright, mate?”

George turns his head and sees Ross approaching, walking towards him and the gate under a huge umbrella. He looks happy, but George can tell there’s something dark behind that smile. 

“Alright,” George replies flatly. And then Ross steps closer to him, and the rain stops hammering on George’s hood. “Thanks.”

“Not much use now, but.” Ross shrugs. “Not answering the door, is he?” he asks, jerking his head towards the intercom.

“No,” George lies. “But I’m a bit early, so I kinda get it.”

“Yeah, same. Felt bad for—”

“Sunday,” George finishes for him. “Yeah, me too.” It certainly feels like the right thing to say, even if he’s not sure if it’s true.

“Oh, you didn’t come either?” Ross asks, looking genuinely surprised.

“Nah. I was busy and then I kinda… forgot.” Despite how wet he is, George’s cheeks suddenly feel very warm.

“Right.” George thinks Ross is going to volunteer his own reason, for a moment, but Ross just presses his lips together, then reaches a hand out towards the intercom button. “Let’s see if he’s forgiven us, shall we?”