punchlines - x factor fic - matt/aiden
Punchlines
X Factor: Matt/Aiden
~8900 words
This isn't embarrassing at all.
"Do you remember," Matt says, "when I made you wait three hours for me to finish in the studio so that we could go back together?"
And Aiden smiles.
"I wanted to go back with you," he says, and it feels like an admission.
He’s been reading the signs for weeks, and it’s like reading a long, poorly constructed joke.
[Eight men walk into an Australian beach house. They each sing a song, and then five of them have their hopes and dreams crushed underfoot and have to go home to face their friends and families feeling embarrassed and ashamed.
No, wait, start again. Eight men walk into an Australian beach house. Two of them fall in love.
No it’s. Eight men walk into an Australian beach house. Five of them say something, all of them sing something, and some of them look at the person opposite and smile like, ‘we should be friends’.
Eight men walk into an Australian beach house. Five of them say something, all of them sing something, and one of them looks at the boy opposite and smiles like, ‘we’re going to be friends’.]
A long, poorly constructed joke and the punchline is in this dark room, his mouth on Matt’s, something desperate in the way he stretches to reach him.
So no one laughs.
If anyone asks, it was spontaneous. He doesn’t want people to know that every time an opportunity might present itself, he’s there, ready, waiting. Always reading the signs, gauging the reaction. But they’ve been drunk together seven times now, and not once has he seized the moment. So maybe he’s not as sure about this as he thinks he is.
It’s just that more often than not Matt can be found with his arms around Aiden, as they hold conversations under their breath. They room together; they dress together; they eat together; they drive together. If one of them is in hair and make-up while the other is rehearsing, there is fidgeting and glances at the clock until an exasperated member of staff lets them go.
People look, and people talk, and Aiden knows what they say and how many of them are joking. He knows that people in the studio laugh about him and Matt, and combine their names, and it’s all in good fun. But he knows they whisper and gossip about Matt and women more often.
When he reads stories about himself, he laughs it off. When he reads stories about Matt, it’s not that easy.
So no, he hasn’t done anything, even when Matt’s hand is on his waist and he’s nuzzling the back of Aiden’s neck. He just smiles, and tries not to shrug Matt off too slowly.
When he kisses him, finally, it’s only because he thinks maybe it’s the end anyway. He’s leaving, and Matt isn’t, and there are endings in everything. He says goodbye to everyone at the studios, says goodbye to the other contestants, and says goodbye to Dannii. “We’ll see you soon,” everyone says, and, “keep in touch, won’t you, let us know how you get on.”
“This isn’t goodbye,” says Dannii, but Aiden knows it is really. It’s ‘goodbye fellow housemate, contestant, potential X Factor winner’. He’s not going to be a part of it anymore, only a ‘remember when’.
So when he says goodbye to Matt, it’s closer to Monday morning than Sunday night, and Aiden has put it off till the last possible second. Matt’s clearing bottles, dangling them from his fingers. He looks around the room to check for any he’s left, and he finds Aiden instead. They stand there, and Aiden feels a little stranded, not knowing where to go from here.
“I still can’t believe you’re going tomorrow,” says Matt.
Aiden means to say something, but the words get caught up in his throat and he swallows them down instead and finds his face grimacing of its own accord. Suddenly he’s about to cry, and he wasn’t prepared for this.
Matt mutters something under his breath. Aiden looks away and then looks back at Matt, putting down the bottles, fumbling his fingers out of the bottle necks and knocking them over. Aiden laughs and then Matt wraps his arms around him, stepping on his foot in his haste to get closer.
“Don’t be nice,” Aiden says, muffled by Matt’s collar, but he grips Matt’s shirt anyway and shifts himself so they can stand together. “If you’re too nice I’ll start crying.”
It’s a little late for that, and when tears find their way to Matt’s neck, he says Aiden’s name helplessly.
“You’re amazing,” he says, “Aiden.”
He pulls back, tips his forehead to Aiden’s. Aiden looks up once, but Matt is looking down and so Aiden does too, looks down and then closes his eyes.
“You’re going to do so well, you know that don’t you?”
Aiden manages a brief smile, but he’s too aware of Matt’s hand on his neck, holding him in place.
“You’re so much better than the rest of them.”
And still Aiden is waiting; still he hesitates because all these endings are bad enough without him causing another.
Matt says his name again and it’s almost a question, filling the gap, and Aiden thinks, maybe he’s not the only one waiting. And Matt leans in, kisses Aiden so close to his mouth like he missed it in the dark. He stays there, his nose pressed against Aiden’s cheek and his hands are so tense they’re shaking.
Aiden turns his head to the side ever so slightly and then he’s kissing Matt, and it’s so much easier than he imagined.
When they stop, they don’t let go. Matt places a shaky kiss on Aiden’s neck, breathing out against his skin. Aiden’s hand is aching, the muscles cramped from their grip on Matt, and he loosens his hold a little. Matt pulls back.
They’re both looking down when Matt mutters, oh god, and Aiden doesn’t know what that means so he just stays still.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Matt says. Aiden makes a face. “Me neither,” he says.
Matt leans in to kiss him again, just once, just a confirmation. I’m still here, I’m not backing out.
Aiden bites his lip.
He’s still waiting, he thinks. He thought he was waiting for the moment when he could kiss Matt and know that he wasn’t making a mistake. But now that moment’s been and gone and it meant less than he thought. He doesn’t know what this means, doesn’t want to deliberate when they only have a few hours left to make something stick, and so,
“Shall we go upstairs?” he says, and then Matt looks at him, looks him in the eye.
“Yeah,” he says, ever so casual, and, yeah, Aiden thinks. That’s what he was waiting for.
Aiden is asleep. It's easier than waking up. It is still dark outside, and if he can't stay asleep then he'll start to remember last night, and the problem with remembering last night is that the sequence of events is a bit fuzzy and the ending is almost non existent.
But across the room there is movement, a cough and a mutter, and if Aiden can’t remember the end maybe he can work it out, because there is no body in his bed but there is one opposite.
Maybe if he lies completely still and silent and keeps his eyes closed then he won’t think about that, but he has a schedule, and people waiting for him, and he can’t.
When he comes out of the bathroom Matt is still in bed, his eyes closed, but the light is on.
Aiden stands in the doorway and Matt opens his eyes, looks straight at Aiden. He blinks, rubs his hand across his face, and blinks twice again. “Hey,” he says, but it comes out strange and he coughs into his hand. “Hey,” he tries again, “you.”
Aiden looks away. “Sorry I woke you,” he says, awkwardly polite.
Matt ignores him. “Come here,” he says, and for a moment Aiden hates him for acting so cool when Aiden feels so awkward, but then he looks at Matt and the moment is gone. Matt is propped up on his elbow, hair all over the place and a smile on his face that looks ready to disappear the moment Aiden says no.
“I can’t,” Aiden says, but he crosses the room to Matt’s bed and lies down on top of the covers. Matt is still waking up, and no one says anything for a while.
"You'll be back later, won't you?"
"Just to pick up my things."
Matt coughs again, and Aiden sits up. Matt's hand touches his lower back, briefly, then Aiden is standing and saying, "I have to go, the car's waiting," and when he leaves Matt is still lying there, watching him.
"Good luck," he says, and Aiden shuts the door.
They don't speak that day but Matt texts him after every interview, just small, meaningless texts.
harry won't stop hugging me, help
saw u charming the interviewer there ;)
weird without u here :(
Aiden doesn't reply to them. There's not much time between interviews, he's rushed and tired, and where he would usually reply there's a blank space in his train of thought. Matt will understand, he thinks, he'll know Aiden's busy.
In the taxi he closes his eyes for a brief moment and Matt is there, not Matt from that morning or Matt from the last however many weeks but Matt from last night, his hands on Aiden, still shaking slightly as they traced the faint outlines of muscle on Aiden's stomach. They had both laughed then, not from amusement but from disbelief, and at this memory Aiden opens his eyes. The sight and sound of London streets push Matt out of his mind and he lets it stay this way.
That night he texts Matt. It's more brief than he would usually be, but he signs off with a kiss. Thinking about waking up alone makes his head hurt, so he focuses on the present, replies to friends from home, catches up on what's happened in the football.
He dreams about it that night, wakes up feeling foolish and embarrassed. He takes it out on his mother and then feels guilty and cross, takes it out on Matt instead and deliberately ignores his call.
Matt doesn't seem to be as fazed by all this. He keeps texting Aiden, letting him know how the rehearsal is going, keeping Aiden updated on the press coverage. He seems to be particularly amused by the kiss and tell story that crops up quite quickly after Aiden's exit and persists in quoting it to Aiden every half hour with winks and smiley faces abound.
Aiden doesn't know how to respond apart from to tell Matt to shut up, so he just quietly stores every message and when his mother asks who all the texts are from he tells her Louis.
He’s back in the studio a week later anyway, and it’s a cliché but it is like coming home. Everything is so familiar; Aiden can walk around as if he owns the place and anyone he doesn’t recognise is an interloper, someone to be looked at with a slight condescending air. He says this to Matt and Matt laughs at him (with him).
They have a secret that they’re keeping, even though everyone asks and persuades and even bribes to let them in on it. But only Savan knows what’s going on, and everything else is kept under metaphorical lock and key. Aiden stands against a wall and makes faces into the camera, and tries not to start giggling in every shot.
When Matt pretends to kiss him he thinks it’s going to be hard to keep that pretence, but the corridor is full of people and at least three of One Direction are doubled over laughing behind the camera, and in the end it’s nothing really. The ease of falling back into familiar patterns unnerves Aiden more than the knowledge that none of this is familiar anymore, not after what happened.
Aiden takes his cardigan off at some point and leaves it on the back of a chair. When he turns around ten minutes later it’s gone. He looks up, straight at Matt, who has a small smile on his face while he talks to Grace. He’s wearing Aiden’s cardigan. Aiden stares at him. Matt’s terrible at pretending to be oblivious, and Aiden knows full well the smile is for him. It’s always for him, saying, yeah, I know you know I took your cardigan, again, but I like it, and I’m keeping it. And like always, Aiden lets him.
They don’t have any time alone together and Aiden doesn’t know if it would make any difference. All weekend Matt seems set on carrying on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He holds Aiden around the waist and kisses his shoulder and smiles at him only a little more than normal, only enough to say I’m so glad you’re back, but that’s it. He doesn’t bring it up, so Aiden doesn’t either.
They keep in touch, but they’re both busy and it isn’t as much as they had promised each other. Aiden watches everything he can though, every backstage video and all the performances. When these clash with his gigs he gets his mum to keep him updated and it’s with a pounding in his chest that he checks his phone each Sunday night, anxious to see the message that is always there waiting. Matt’s through. He doesn’t see Matt again until the final night.
On the way to the studios, Aiden is jittery and unfocused, responding to any question in increasingly nonsensical sentences. The returning contestants have been told little about the schedule, and this lack of information only serves to make him more nervous.
He's expecting to be kept separate from Matt and the others, to give them their space, but when he arrives Matt is standing outside, smoking. He sees Aiden straight away and grins, waving Aiden over and pulling him into a hug.
"Alright?" asks Aiden, shifting away from Matt and immediately off balancing, shuffling his feet until he can stand up straight. Matt's looking at his phone, finishing his message, and then he looks up at Aiden, smiles again and gives him another hug.
"It's so nice to see you," he says. "I've been waiting out here for ages."
Aiden grins despite himself, happy just to be around Matt again.
"I'm supposed to be on vocal rest, though," says Matt, "so-" and he mimes zipping his mouth shut.
One of the dancers comes over to wish Matt luck on her way in, smiles and says hello to Aiden, then they're standing on their own again. Aiden rocks back and forth, heel to toe, and says, "I think I'm supposed to go somewhere." He means, I don't want to go anywhere, but it seems he has little control over his speech.
Matt finishes his cigarette and crushes it on top of a bin. Aiden watches him and is caught out when Matt touches a hand to his elbow and nods in the direction of the entrance.
Through the double doors there are more people and a couple of cameras, and Matt lets go of Aiden's elbow. One of the production team calls Matt over and he grimaces at Aiden.
"I'll see you later," Aiden says. Matt brushes his hand across Aiden's cardigan as he leaves, smiling at Aiden over his shoulder.
Aiden smiles for too long after Matt has gone.
Aiden watches Matt rehearse from side-stage. Someone comes up to him, asks him how it feels to be back. He's not sure what he says, he's kind of spacing out. He's remembering a moment, weeks ago, when he and Matt were listening to music together, and talking about What They Would Do If They Got To The Final. It seems like yesterday and yet years ago and Aiden's not sure he's really taking any of it in.
He hopes he didn't say anything embarrassing or incriminating, and he hopes he wasn't rude. He's finding that a lot more these days, that after an interview or conversation with a fan he can never remember quite what was discussed. It's like he just inhabits his body, and doesn't always have control over it. Now, standing in the shadows and trying not to eavesdrop on Matt's conversation with Brian, Aiden feels the need to reach out and put his hand flat against a stack of speakers. It feels like grounding himself, letting some of the nervous energy be absorbed into his surroundings.
Matt doesn't look up, completely involved in the performance, but Aiden doesn't get bored. He thinks he would probably never get bored of watching Matt. Then he glances round, feeling like if anyone was watching him at that moment they might have realised what he was thinking. He feels like an idiot then, puts his hands back into his pockets and makes a face to himself. He hopes he isn't supposed to be anywhere, and then the song starts again and he forgets to worry.
They're post-rehearsal, pre-hairandmakeup, and Matt grabs Aiden and practically drags him back outside. There’s a space they always go, a doorway in which to sit and smoke and get a moment’s peace from the show.
"How's it going?" Aiden asks, trying to ignore the slightly sick feeling in his stomach. He wonders if he's actually more nervous for Matt than he would be if he was still in the final himself.
Matt shrugs, makes a face and doesn't meet Aiden's eyes. Aiden hasn't seen him like this since the judges' houses, so completely overwhelmed.
"Hey.” He reaches out a hand to Matt's shoulder, rests it there in attempted sympathy.
"You're going to be amazing. You already are amazing -
- you're going to smash it," he says, and this thought makes him smile even if Matt still looks like he's going to cry.
Then Aiden runs out of words; there aren’t any he can say that he hasn’t already said and the words he can’t say are wrapped up in the night he left the show. He pulls Matt into a loose hug that Matt immediately latches onto, wrapping his arms around Aiden's waist and digging his chin into Aiden's shoulder.
"Thanks mate," he whispers, and Aiden just squeezes a bit tighter. They stand there and let the minutes tick by. Aiden listens to the traffic noises and tries to breathe in time with Matt. Once he starts to pull back but Matt doesn't follow his lead and so he just shifts his arms and holds on.
He thinks about their friendship, thinks about the intimacy that has been there since the beginning, and wonders what he wants that is any different to this. Matt shows no restraint in the physicality of their interactions, a hand on Aiden’s waist, friendly kisses scattered on his head and shoulders. If anything, Aiden thinks, it is himself who is holding back. Always cautious in his affection, he will talk garrulously and volubly on the subject of Matt but rarely does he give in to the urge to touch him. Here and there he will rest his hand on Matt, but always with brevity that says this is no big deal.
Even now, with Matt pressed against him and no one else around, he doesn’t want to do the wrong thing, to be too sweet. He doesn’t want Matt to pull away and laugh at him, or worse, apologise. So he stays still, and says nothing.
They're breathing in unison and Aiden is absent-mindedly thumbing the seam in Matt's cardigan when Matt finally releases him.
His eyes are a little wet and he brushes a hand across them and laughs a little shaky, a little embarrassed. "Thanks," he says again, so quiet that Aiden only sees his lips move, doesn't hear the word.
"You're going to be amazing," Aiden repeats, because he can't think of anything better. It's what he’s been telling himself when he starts worrying about what's going to happen that night so he hopes maybe it'll help Matt to hear it too.
Matt just looks at him with a slight smile and reaches out, cuffs Aiden lightly on the side of his head, easy affection again.
One of the security staff comes out, wanders over to join them. "Do you mind?" he says, and holds up his cigarette.
Matt waves his hand like, go ahead. The security guard strikes up a conversation, some anecdote about last year's final, and Aiden lets the words wash over him. Every now and then he raises his eyebrows or smiles in what seems the appropriate reaction, but mostly he just watches Matt out of the corner of his eye. Still he feels like if he doesn't look after him then who will. It’s these thoughts that get him into trouble though, that make him forget where the line of their friendship is drawn.
The anecdote lasts the length of a cigarette, then it is ground into the gutter under a heel and the security guy says, "I better head back in."
Aiden is thrown off, lost in his own thoughts. He looks at Matt, who nods back at him. "Yeah," says Aiden.
"Good luck," says the security guy to Matt, who smiles and nods.
"Vocal rest," says Aiden.
On their way in Aiden falls into step behind Matt, letting him lead the way. Backed up in the doorway, he doesn't realise his hands are on Matt's hips until Matt twists around to look at him and places a hand over Aiden's. He looks amused but Aiden is mortified.
"Sorry," he says, and pulls his hands away. Matt just shrugs, turns away from him and walks on.
Acutely aware of the number of people around them, Aiden composes his features, and follows Matt at a safe distance.
They're post-hairandmakeup, pre-wardrobe, and they have time to kill. Matt is still silent but they have progressed to communicating by text, typing messages into Matt’s mobile. Aiden keeps forgetting that just because Matt can't talk doesn't mean he can't either, and their conversations are filled with long pauses in which Matt starts laughing and Aiden gets embarrassed, again.
"I can't help it!" He exclaims, for the fifteenth time that hour. "I keep forgetting either of us can talk."
Matt's snickering quietly into his fist.
"Literally!" Aiden says, and laughs too when people passing give them indulgent glances.
Loser, Matt types on his phone, and holds the screen up to Aiden. Giving Aiden's protests another smile, he takes the phone away and starts typing again.
They've been blocked from entering the finalists' dressing room. More precisely, Aiden's been blocked, and Matt seems to just come as a pair with him. No one seems very surprised by this. When Dannii comes along to check up on her team, she only gives a slight roll of the eyes to their corridor loitering, and squeezes Matt's shoulder as if to say, "I know I have no say in this."
"Find another room if you must," she says, "but remember you're on vocal rest, Matt." And she gives him a warning look. He nods, and Aiden gives her a thumbs-up. Dannii directs her look to him instead, and he shrinks back slightly, trying to look scared but just succeeding in grinning.
"I'm trusting you," she says.
"I won't let him talk," Aiden says, "I promise."
"Okay," says Dannii, and for some reason Aiden feels it necessary to keep talking. "I'm sure we can find some non-verbal activities to occupy ourselves with," he says, and Dannii's eyebrows shoot up.
Aiden makes a face. He's done it again, and isn't quite sure how that conversation came about. He can't remember whether there was any context for making that particular implication, but suspects not. His problem is that these days he's surrounded by other people making those implications for him. It's easy to forget that they're about him, and not some minor celebrity 'bromance', it's easy to join in first and realise his mistake after.
Dannii's laughing though, and Matt's watching him merrily, amused again at Aiden's expense. Aiden grins, a little relieved, and makes a mental note to go on vocal rest from now on.
"That was a little too much information," Dannii says drily, "I think I'll leave you to it." She gives them both a little shove and turns to go into the finalists' room. "I mean it though," she says as they walk away. "If anyone hears a peep out of Matt..." and she lets the implied threat hang in the air between them.
There's a room, with a guitar, and Aiden loses track of how many people apologise and leave after they see who's sitting there. Niall manages to leave three times, coming back in each time to apologise again. "I'm sure people used to like us," Aiden says, "What did you do?"
Matt just stares at him, shakes his head and goes back to his phone. They're listening to a playlist of Matt's, earphones strung between them and Aiden picking out chords on the guitar. Aiden watches as Matt scrolls through, absent-mindedly nodding along. He doesn't know why no one is coming in, but he's not complaining, not really. Sitting there he can almost imagine he never left, that this is just another break in rehearsals and they'll be going back to the house tonight to spend another evening laughing in their room.
Matt looks up and catches his eye. He smiles before Aiden can look away, then he reaches out a finger to Aiden's face. Aiden jerks back a little, not sure where Matt is going with it, but finds his cheek poked anyway. "What are you doing," he says, "weirdo," and Matt snorts.
Aiden eyes him warily. "The strain seems to be getting to you," he says, "should I be worried?"
Matt just bites his lip and smiles again.
"I missed you," he says, but Aiden's just bent his head to the guitar and his thumb on the E string almost drowns Matt out. Matt coughs and looks up at Aiden, amused.
"Sorry," says Aiden. "Sorry."
Matt just watches him until Aiden says, "I missed you too."
And, "I think the whole internet knows it too," he says. "Sorry."
Matt just shrugs a bit and puts on a John Mayer song.
The song is barely over when someone puts their head around the door and this time doesn't leave. "Time," they say, and when Aiden looks at Matt his face is slightly grey. He swallows and looks up at Aiden.
"Now or never," says Aiden, and makes a face. This time Matt doesn't smile, but leans forward and rests his forehead against Aiden's shoulder. For the briefest moment he is there, breathing with Aiden, and then he pulls himself together. Stowing his phone and earphones he nods to the runner still standing in the doorway and stands up.
Aiden feels sick, feels like grabbing Matt's hand and not letting go until the night's over.
He stands, and Matt is already walking out, coughing into his hand and rolling up his sleeves. Aiden replaces the guitar and follows him. He's telling himself to stop panicking, that he needs to be cool and calm for Matt, but the irrationality of his nervous system is more than a match for his inner monologue.
He's got his head down and his thoughts elsewhere and so he walks straight into Matt, blocking the door.
Matt looks at him, puts a hand on the back of his neck. "Alright?" he says, barely above a whisper.
Aiden grimaces. "I'm fine," he says, "I don't have to go out and sing to win the X Factor."
Matt mirrors his grimace. "Thanks for that," he says, and then, "you look like you're going to throw up though, mate, so."
Aiden feels like he's going to throw up. "I feel like I'm going to throw up," he says, and then immediately regrets it. "And stop talking," he says, to cover up his awkwardness. "Dannii's going to kill me."
Matt smirks. "Well if you're not going to follow through on your non-verbal activities..."
Aiden splutters. "Below the belt!" he says, and then realises what he's said. Both of them start laughing, surprised into silliness, forgetting where they are.
When the runner's polite cough brings them back down, Matt rubs his hand through Aiden's quiff and steps back.
"Don't freak out, babe," he says. "Leave that to me."
Babe, Aiden repeats to himself, and bares his teeth when Matt turns away.
Matt Cardle wins the X Factor, and Aiden doesn’t really remember what happens that night. Everyone is excited and happy, talking too loudly and too quickly for everyone else to hear. Aiden is the loudest and most excited of anyone there, staying close to Matt when he can and telling anyone who will listen how amazing this is when he can’t.
The high stays for days, and he rides it out in every medium he can. On twitter and in the press he tells people how happy he is for Matt, how excited he is for him, and not once does anyone doubt his sincerity. He and Matt call each other most days and they even manage to meet up one evening and argue over who buys the celebratory drinks.
They have slipped, unconsciously, into a routine that reflects the one they had in the house together. Aiden suspects this is less due to any intentional change in attitude, and more to do with the fact that once again they are in the same place: gigs, press, fans, adjusting to another new life. Aiden is suddenly the expert, the one who’s seen it all before, and Matt calls him just to say, does this ever let up?
Suddenly Aiden always has time to text back, never puts his phone away and promises no one in particular that he’ll read it later. When he opens a new message he’s disappointed when it isn’t Matt, and when it is he doesn’t even have to read the message before he’s grinning.
The thing is, he tells himself, is that he’s excited. One of his best friends has just won the X Factor, and he’s going to get the Christmas Number 1, and it’s amazing, and Aiden’s so happy for him, and so it makes sense that he’s going to be a bit over the top about Matt for a while.
And then one day he checks his phone and someone’s sent him a link to a tabloid story about Matt, and Aiden knows these things should be taken with a pinch of salt but it still subdues him. He reads the story again and then with a look over his shoulder to check no one’s around he clicks on another link in the article, another story about Matt. From there, he reaches three more, all of them different women, all of them read with an uneasy sense of guilt. He puts his phone away and promises himself he’s not bothered.
But it brings to mind a comment Louis had made a couple of weeks before, a throwaway line about Matt and someone that Aiden hadn’t thought was important at the time. Now he half wishes he had listened, but there’s no point in wondering.
Matt calls him later, but Aiden is soundchecking and Matt leaves a message. He sounds hesitant and unsure, and Aiden has to turn the volume up to hear him.
Hey, buddy Matt says, hope you’re okay today. I guess you’re probably sound checking or something. Anyway I just wanted to check in.
He leaves a long pause.
Anyway I did this interview today and they talked about the tabloid stories, you know how they do. But it just-
And here he stops again.
I probably should have mentioned it to you, but I didn’t, and I wanted to talk to you about it before it’s printed in the magazine.
So, call me when you get this, or whenever, if you want. I- yeah. Okay. Bye. Sorry this is such a long message.
Aiden’s hands are shaking a little. He goes to call Matt back, but someone comes in the room and asks him a question, and then maybe he forgets or maybe he just puts the phone in his pocket but either way he doesn’t call Matt back, not that night.
Aiden doesn’t call Matt back the next day either, and that evening Matt writes love u aiden on his twitter, and Aiden doesn’t think he’s being unfair if he says that Matt is letting social media make the reconciliatory gesture for him.
Newspapers will say anything. Aiden knows that. But public gestures of affection tend to corroborate dubiously sourced stories. Aiden reads the articles again, and again, and when his mum comes in with a cup of tea he puts his hand in front of his face and talks through it to hide the fact that he has no control over what his mouth is doing. It turns down at the corners when he's trying to smile and he can hear how weird his voice is.
The next time he and Matt talk it is only brief. They exchange anecdotes about their day and talk about their families and then when they share their frustrations with the press Aiden makes his excuses and ends the phone call before Matt can segue into anything more dangerous.
So they carry on, limping somewhat through their routine, fewer phone calls and more text messages, fewer private jokes and more general banter amongst all their acquaintances from the show, and if Aiden still lights up when it’s Matt’s name in the caller ID, he tries not to think about that.
It's one in the morning, and Aiden is lying in a hotel bed, watching a late night thriller. He knows he needs to turn it off and go to sleep, but he doesn't. It's a contest with himself to see how long he can put off the inevitable. When it finishes, Aiden is so worried about disturbing other guests that he turns the volume down until only a murmur comes out. He flicks through the channels in a loop, staying only a second on each before getting bored.
By two o'clock, Aiden is unrelentingly awake. BBC 24 is on, and he is reading the scrolling headlines with eyes that ache. He gets up once to get a glass of water but leaves it on the bedside table after one sip. He feels really lonely, he decides, but it's probably a bit late for that. On the off chance, he texts Matt.
An hour later he's in a McDonalds, hovering inside the doorway, hoping no one recognises him and hoping no one tells him he can't wait there. He gets out his phone and rereads his conversation with Matt, like maybe upon the fourth read it will become apparent that he dreamt it and in fact Matt never said that at all.
Sounds like sleep is a lost cause. Do u want company?
Company like what - Aiden had replied, wanting to make a flippant remark but not knowing how - what are you offering?
That hadn't come out right. Every time he reads it he feels more stupid, more nervous. He hates texting. Not being able to see someone's face, gauge their reaction. Like being on the X Factor; how can you get people to vote for you if you can't see them? It hadn't made much sense to Aiden in the end.
Matt had taken ages to reply, each minute agonisingly embarrassing to Aiden. Then,
;) i'm sure i could get a 1d boy over there pretty quick if that's what you're looking for
Aiden had been simultaneously crushed and amused, relieved too that Matt had steered the conversation away from that. At least one of them could be responsible, it seemed. But Matt had sent another,
No but I'm serious, do you want me to come round? I'm awake now anyway.
Aiden, being Aiden, had avoided the question, made a mention of the tabloids and late night hotel visits, skirted round the offer. It didn't do much good, and now he was standing here, hood pulled forward over his face, glasses on, his biggest cardigan to ward off the unfriendliness of late night London. Waiting again for the inevitability of the night to play out. He can see it all ahead of them and even as Matt arrives, comes up close and puts an arm around him, he knows he should leave.
They go inside, instead, and they order and Aiden rests his head in his hands, his elbows on the counter and only a balancing act between him and the floor keeps him upright. Matt rests a hand on the back of his neck and says, softly, "Alright there, night owl?"
Aiden doesn't answer, just stands up and stares straight ahead. He lets Matt order for them both, and pay, and doesn't say a word.
Seated in the corner they drink their teas in silence; everything is muted at this time of night and Aiden knows their voices will carry. It isn’t until a group of teenagers enter, loud and oblivious, that they can talk. Aiden's not really sure what he wants to talk about, only that he's felt this sense of displacement for weeks now and he thinks it probably has something to do with Matt. There's a feeling of injustice, a resentment towards Matt, for how easily he's glossed over what happened. Aiden had thought they were in this together, but lately they've been out of sync.
He doesn't know how to articulate this though, to articulate it in a way that Matt will pick up on. In a way, too, that will give Aiden a get out clause in case he ends up intimating a completely different state of affairs. One, for instance, in which he's sort of hopelessly besotted with Matt, can't stop thinking about that night, and is going to be a bit miserable until Matt tells him it wasn't a one off.
Matt clears his throat, pauses, takes a gulp of tea, and pauses again. Aiden watches his reflection in the window, watches Matt watching Aiden, and waits for him to make the first move.
It takes him ten minutes, but he does.
"Tell me if you don't agree," he says, cautious and quiet, "but I feel like you and me, we're out of sorts."
Touché, Aiden thinks. He gives Matt a brief look, registers the way he looks at Aiden like he's waiting for him to do a runner.
"Yeah," Aiden says. "I know."
There's another long pause.
Then Matt clears his throat again. "I want to talk about it," he says, "but I'm not sure what you want me to say."
Aiden doesn't want Matt to say anything in particular, but in the end it's a 'remember when' that gets them talking.
"Do you remember," Matt says, and Aiden thinks, no, I don't, I don't want to be nostalgic about that time.
"Do you remember what I said to you, when we first met?"
Aiden is surprised. It takes him a moment: not to remember, but to confirm the memory.
"You said I was amazing."
And Matt smiles.
And so it goes, with Matt drawing Aiden out through reminiscent words and phrases until their conversation is back and forth and Aiden is no longer watching the window.
"Do you remember," Matt says, "when I made you wait three hours for me to finish in the studio so that we could go back together?"
And Aiden smiles.
"I wanted to go back with you," he says, and it feels like an admission. He looks down at his cup, empty now and cold to the touch. He can feel Matt watching him.
"Remember when," Matt starts, and Aiden holds his breath until he hears the change of subject.
In the end, they run out of cowardice before they run out of memories, and after a break in conversation Matt says, "I know you want us to talk about what happened."
He doesn't sound reluctant or even resigned, but Aiden shakes his head anyway.
"No," he says, and then, "I don't know."
"Do you remember what I said," he says, "when we first met?"
"When I told you that you were amazing?"
Aiden nods.
"You said I was amazing too."
They look at each other, then, glance away when they both smile.
"I think you've called me amazing about fifty times in the last week alone," Matt says, and Aiden can't help but laugh.
"Yeah," he says, "and what do I get in return?"
"I know, I'll have to up my game."
Matt rests his chin in his hand, bites his lip to keep from smiling still, and looks at Aiden.
Aiden doesn't stop himself from smiling, he lets it take over. It feels like an age since last he found himself smiling freely and fully. They sit and smile and watch as the group from before stand and leave the place in a cacophony of noise. Then it is quiet again and Aiden raises his eyebrows at Matt.
"What do you think," says Matt, "had enough?"
And Aiden remembers where they are and why they are there, and remembers where he knew the night would go. But he doesn't have the impetus to challenge this. It requires strength of will that he hasn't yet found. So he says yes, and he lets them leave together, lets Matt find the taxi and tell the driver his hotel, lets Matt pay and lead him inside. In the lobby they both half-heartedly pull clothes over their faces, though Aiden suspects this does more harm than good.
In the lift, Matt curls his hand briefly around Aiden's waist and rests his chin on Aiden's shoulder. He drops a kiss on Aiden's collar and has pulled away before Aiden even registers it.
In the hotel room they don't speak; there is nothing to discuss. They remove outer layers and Aiden asks to use the bathroom. When he comes out, Matt is in bed, the only light from the reading lamp above his head. Aiden sits on the edge of the bed to take off his trousers and socks.
He lies down and Matt watches him. "Feel better?" he asks, but it is rhetorical and Aiden just waits for Matt to lean down and kiss him.
Matt pulls back only to turn off the light. He says goodnight, but they kiss again and underneath the covers their bodies align. Cold hands slide under warm t-shirts, and at the touch of their bare legs together Aiden stops thinking.
Aiden wakes up, and for one brief, awful moment he is alone again. Then the door opens and Matt is there, carrying two styrofoam cups in cardboard holders. He smiles at Aiden.
“Did you just wake up?”
Aiden feels like he is barely conscious. There’s a dull ache behind his eyes and his throat is dry.
“What time is it?”
Matt puts the cups down beside the bed and checks his phone. “Eight-ish,” he says, “we’ve got a bit of time before people come looking.”
Matt takes his trousers off again before he gets back into bed, and Aiden forgets to look away. He closes his eyes, unsure and too tired to pretend otherwise.
“You alright?” Matt asks, and no, Aiden thinks, no, I feel terrible, and I want a hug. But the more he wakes up the more he gets a sinking feeling, a distinct feeling that he shouldn’t be there.
Matt’s knee touches Aiden’s and stays there, and Aiden feels a little desperate.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” he says, and Matt reaches out, grips his arm.
“No, Aiden,” he says, “don’t do that again.”
Aiden frowns, feels inexplicably and unfairly guilty. “Again?” he says, “When did I do this last time?”
Matt sighs and shuts his eyes, dropping his head slightly. “No,” he says, “I didn’t mean- I don’t want to have a go at you about that.”
“About what,” Aiden says, frustrated and still feeling guilty.
“No,” Matt says, “seriously, forget it, just please don’t leave right now. Talk to me about what’s going on.”
Aiden wants nothing more than to shut his eyes, pull the covers over his head and go back to sleep, to wake up in his own hotel room and have done nothing last night. He doesn’t know where this is going, doesn’t know how to talk about what he’s been thinking for the last four weeks. Matt’s voice is too calm, too measured for what is happening. Aiden sits up away from Matt, his back and shoulders curving in on themselves.
After a moment, Matt sits up too. Aiden feels the bed dip and then Matt’s hand on his back. Matt sighs, and Aiden feels it on his skin, a sigh followed by lips pressed against his shoulder, once, twice.
“Aiden,” he says, and it’s an admonishment although Aiden doesn’t know what for. He could admonish himself; he could tell himself that he was an idiot to text Matt last night, to meet him, to tell him what seemed like secrets at the time, to come back here with him. But he doesn’t think Matt feels that way.
Matt’s hand drifts down to Aiden’s waist, and he says Aiden’s name again.
“Please talk to me,” he says, “I don’t know what’s going on.”
Aiden breathes in and then out, and before he knows what he’s saying he speaks.
“I don’t want this,” he says, but it’s not what he means.
“I don’t want-“, he says, and then he gives up trying to find a better excuse. “I don’t want to do this and then read about you in the papers for the next three weeks.”
Matt makes a small sound behind him.
“Those papers will print anything,” he says, “you should know that.”
Aiden sits up a little straighter, and Matt moves his hand.
“I do,” he says, “but I also know your friends and people on the show and I know that some of those stories are true, so don’t try and pretend otherwise.”
Matt’s hand leaves his back and Aiden feels him move away. When he speaks it is his turn to sound guilty and frustrated.
“Fine,” he says, “fine, Aiden, yes, I slept with her, but that’s all it was.”
Aiden shakes his head.
“Look at me,” Matt says, sits forward so that he can see Aiden’s face. Aiden looks determinedly straight ahead and sets his jaw.
“Do I call her every day?”
“Maybe,” Aiden says, and feels petulant. “I wouldn’t know, would I.”
“I don’t, of course I don’t. I’m too busy calling you.”
Aiden shakes his head again.
“I’m too busy waking up at two in the morning and going to meet you in a McDonalds, just because you feel a bit sad.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“No, but I did anyway.”
He leans in to Aiden and curves a hand around his neck. “I’m not great at this, I don’t know what we’re doing, but I just want you to be happy with whatever this is.”
And there it is, Aiden thinks, there’s Matt’s speech. And Aiden has to either believe it or not. He has to put faith in the last three months of knowing Matt, or he has to decide that he doesn’t know him after all. The first time they met, Matt had told Aiden he was amazing, and Aiden had said the same back, and they haven’t left each other’s side since. The night Aiden left, he had wanted to kiss Matt, but Matt had been the one to do it.
He’s scared to give in, to say yes, this is what our friendship is now, I trust you to know what you’re doing even when you don’t.
But Matt woke up and went to get them tea, and now he drops a kiss on Aiden’s shoulder, and it’s too much to keep doubting everything. Aiden doesn’t have that kind of resolve. And part of him thinks he doesn’t need it either.
“No more true stories in the papers,” he mumbles.
“No,” Matt says. “No more.”
Aiden closes his eyes and Matt pulls him across, rests Aiden’s head on his shoulder. Then they’re kissing, again, but this time it’s in daylight and this time they talk. When Matt slips his hand into Aiden’s boxers they laugh, and swear at each other, and laugh again. When Aiden bites down on Matt’s shoulder, Matt says, “X Rated X Factor,” and Aiden tips his head back and laughs till Matt kisses him again.
Afterwards Matt puts Aiden’s arms around him and says, “Better.”
Aiden says, “If your manager walked in right now, what would you say?”
Matt doesn’t hesitate. “I’d tell her to come back later,” he says.
“And if a journalist walked in, what would you say?”
“I wouldn’t say a single thing; I’d just do the most X-rated things to you right in front of her.” And Aiden laughs and says, “What?” but it is lost as Matt tightens his arms around Aiden and kisses him.
“What about your mum,” Aiden asks, a little breathless.
Matt looks bemused. “Um,” he says, “same as my manager I guess.”
“What about my mum?”
Matt smirks. “I’d tell her it was nothing she hadn’t seen before.”
Aiden grimaces. “That’s just weird,” he says.
“No,” says Matt, “I wouldn’t bother saying anything; it’d be up on twitter before I could get a word in edgeways.”
Aiden laughs, rolls his eyes a little. They lie there a little longer, just watching each other, and then Aiden says, “How X-rated is X-rated,” and Matt grins and looks at him fondly. He leans up to kiss Aiden and then his phone goes off, vibrating its way across the nightstand.
“Sorry,” he says, and he lets go of Aiden to answer it.
Aiden watches him as he takes the call. Matt is propped up on his elbow, and he looks down as he talks, chews his lip and plays with the seam of the duvet cover. Every movement and every fidgeting action is familiar to Aiden as if he is watching himself, and the thought makes him relax, falling back against the pillows. Matt looks up at him, focuses for a second on Aiden and not the phonecall, and then he’s apologising, asking whoever it is to repeat what they just said.
“Yeah,” he says, “ten minutes no problem. We’ll meet you out front.”
“No,” he says, “I’ll, whatever. See you in a bit.”
He hangs up and looks at his phone, muddling about with it before he looks at Aiden again. “My manager,” he says, “I need to get ready.”
Aiden nods, feeling sleepy and lazy.
“You want a shower?”
“Nah.”
Matt stares at him. “Are you sure?” he says, “Because you kind of smell.”
They try to keep up the pretence of the insult, but Aiden is too sleepy to do much more than show his teeth, and Matt was never good at keeping a straight face and he caves after barely two seconds, ducking his head and smiling.
“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”
Five minutes later and they’re both dressed and standing by the door. Matt makes a face at the cup in Aiden’s hand. “That has got to be cold,” he says.
Aiden shrugs. “It’s alright,” he says, “It’s still lukewarm actually.”
“Where did I put my fags?” Matt goes around the room lifting up various items of clothing and peering under them. Aiden pulls a crumpled packet from his pocket. “Found them,” he says, and looks shifty when Matt eyes him from under the brim of his cap.
“You thieving bastard,” Matt says, and Aiden turns the corners of his mouth down.
“I was looking after them for you.”
Matt smiles despite himself.
“Shall we go then?” he says, one hand on the door and one in his pocket.
Aiden hesitates. “Do you want to go down separately?” he says. “Um.”
Matt frowns.
“If you want,” Aiden adds, “I won’t be offended.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
Aiden makes a face. “People will talk,” he says, and Matt steps up to him very close and puts both hands on Aiden’s waist.
“Let them talk,” he says. “I don’t give a fuck.”
He kisses Aiden, and they leave the room together.
“Can I have a sip?” Matt closes his hand around Aiden’s tea.
“Er no,” says Aiden. “You had your own, this is mine.”
“I left mine in the room.”
“Tough luck then.”
“You’re smoking my fag.”
Aiden sighs. “Fine,” he says, “have my tea.”
Matt snorts. “You know what I love about you,” he says, taking the tea out of Aiden’s hand, "it's your graciousness”.
Aiden squints at Matt, and then grins despite himself.
Eight men walk into an Australian beach house. It's a long and poorly told joke, but the punchline is worth it.
[One of them smiles at the other, like 'let's be friends'. They kiss alone in a dark room. One man walks out an instant celebrity.]
Eight men walk into an Australian beach house. Three months later two of them stand outside a Premier Inn, sharing a cigarette and a tea. They look at each other and they think, yeah, this is going to work.
X Factor: Matt/Aiden
~8900 words
This isn't embarrassing at all.
"Do you remember," Matt says, "when I made you wait three hours for me to finish in the studio so that we could go back together?"
And Aiden smiles.
"I wanted to go back with you," he says, and it feels like an admission.
He’s been reading the signs for weeks, and it’s like reading a long, poorly constructed joke.
[Eight men walk into an Australian beach house. They each sing a song, and then five of them have their hopes and dreams crushed underfoot and have to go home to face their friends and families feeling embarrassed and ashamed.
No, wait, start again. Eight men walk into an Australian beach house. Two of them fall in love.
No it’s. Eight men walk into an Australian beach house. Five of them say something, all of them sing something, and some of them look at the person opposite and smile like, ‘we should be friends’.
Eight men walk into an Australian beach house. Five of them say something, all of them sing something, and one of them looks at the boy opposite and smiles like, ‘we’re going to be friends’.]
A long, poorly constructed joke and the punchline is in this dark room, his mouth on Matt’s, something desperate in the way he stretches to reach him.
So no one laughs.
If anyone asks, it was spontaneous. He doesn’t want people to know that every time an opportunity might present itself, he’s there, ready, waiting. Always reading the signs, gauging the reaction. But they’ve been drunk together seven times now, and not once has he seized the moment. So maybe he’s not as sure about this as he thinks he is.
It’s just that more often than not Matt can be found with his arms around Aiden, as they hold conversations under their breath. They room together; they dress together; they eat together; they drive together. If one of them is in hair and make-up while the other is rehearsing, there is fidgeting and glances at the clock until an exasperated member of staff lets them go.
People look, and people talk, and Aiden knows what they say and how many of them are joking. He knows that people in the studio laugh about him and Matt, and combine their names, and it’s all in good fun. But he knows they whisper and gossip about Matt and women more often.
When he reads stories about himself, he laughs it off. When he reads stories about Matt, it’s not that easy.
So no, he hasn’t done anything, even when Matt’s hand is on his waist and he’s nuzzling the back of Aiden’s neck. He just smiles, and tries not to shrug Matt off too slowly.
When he kisses him, finally, it’s only because he thinks maybe it’s the end anyway. He’s leaving, and Matt isn’t, and there are endings in everything. He says goodbye to everyone at the studios, says goodbye to the other contestants, and says goodbye to Dannii. “We’ll see you soon,” everyone says, and, “keep in touch, won’t you, let us know how you get on.”
“This isn’t goodbye,” says Dannii, but Aiden knows it is really. It’s ‘goodbye fellow housemate, contestant, potential X Factor winner’. He’s not going to be a part of it anymore, only a ‘remember when’.
So when he says goodbye to Matt, it’s closer to Monday morning than Sunday night, and Aiden has put it off till the last possible second. Matt’s clearing bottles, dangling them from his fingers. He looks around the room to check for any he’s left, and he finds Aiden instead. They stand there, and Aiden feels a little stranded, not knowing where to go from here.
“I still can’t believe you’re going tomorrow,” says Matt.
Aiden means to say something, but the words get caught up in his throat and he swallows them down instead and finds his face grimacing of its own accord. Suddenly he’s about to cry, and he wasn’t prepared for this.
Matt mutters something under his breath. Aiden looks away and then looks back at Matt, putting down the bottles, fumbling his fingers out of the bottle necks and knocking them over. Aiden laughs and then Matt wraps his arms around him, stepping on his foot in his haste to get closer.
“Don’t be nice,” Aiden says, muffled by Matt’s collar, but he grips Matt’s shirt anyway and shifts himself so they can stand together. “If you’re too nice I’ll start crying.”
It’s a little late for that, and when tears find their way to Matt’s neck, he says Aiden’s name helplessly.
“You’re amazing,” he says, “Aiden.”
He pulls back, tips his forehead to Aiden’s. Aiden looks up once, but Matt is looking down and so Aiden does too, looks down and then closes his eyes.
“You’re going to do so well, you know that don’t you?”
Aiden manages a brief smile, but he’s too aware of Matt’s hand on his neck, holding him in place.
“You’re so much better than the rest of them.”
And still Aiden is waiting; still he hesitates because all these endings are bad enough without him causing another.
Matt says his name again and it’s almost a question, filling the gap, and Aiden thinks, maybe he’s not the only one waiting. And Matt leans in, kisses Aiden so close to his mouth like he missed it in the dark. He stays there, his nose pressed against Aiden’s cheek and his hands are so tense they’re shaking.
Aiden turns his head to the side ever so slightly and then he’s kissing Matt, and it’s so much easier than he imagined.
When they stop, they don’t let go. Matt places a shaky kiss on Aiden’s neck, breathing out against his skin. Aiden’s hand is aching, the muscles cramped from their grip on Matt, and he loosens his hold a little. Matt pulls back.
They’re both looking down when Matt mutters, oh god, and Aiden doesn’t know what that means so he just stays still.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Matt says. Aiden makes a face. “Me neither,” he says.
Matt leans in to kiss him again, just once, just a confirmation. I’m still here, I’m not backing out.
Aiden bites his lip.
He’s still waiting, he thinks. He thought he was waiting for the moment when he could kiss Matt and know that he wasn’t making a mistake. But now that moment’s been and gone and it meant less than he thought. He doesn’t know what this means, doesn’t want to deliberate when they only have a few hours left to make something stick, and so,
“Shall we go upstairs?” he says, and then Matt looks at him, looks him in the eye.
“Yeah,” he says, ever so casual, and, yeah, Aiden thinks. That’s what he was waiting for.
Aiden is asleep. It's easier than waking up. It is still dark outside, and if he can't stay asleep then he'll start to remember last night, and the problem with remembering last night is that the sequence of events is a bit fuzzy and the ending is almost non existent.
But across the room there is movement, a cough and a mutter, and if Aiden can’t remember the end maybe he can work it out, because there is no body in his bed but there is one opposite.
Maybe if he lies completely still and silent and keeps his eyes closed then he won’t think about that, but he has a schedule, and people waiting for him, and he can’t.
When he comes out of the bathroom Matt is still in bed, his eyes closed, but the light is on.
Aiden stands in the doorway and Matt opens his eyes, looks straight at Aiden. He blinks, rubs his hand across his face, and blinks twice again. “Hey,” he says, but it comes out strange and he coughs into his hand. “Hey,” he tries again, “you.”
Aiden looks away. “Sorry I woke you,” he says, awkwardly polite.
Matt ignores him. “Come here,” he says, and for a moment Aiden hates him for acting so cool when Aiden feels so awkward, but then he looks at Matt and the moment is gone. Matt is propped up on his elbow, hair all over the place and a smile on his face that looks ready to disappear the moment Aiden says no.
“I can’t,” Aiden says, but he crosses the room to Matt’s bed and lies down on top of the covers. Matt is still waking up, and no one says anything for a while.
"You'll be back later, won't you?"
"Just to pick up my things."
Matt coughs again, and Aiden sits up. Matt's hand touches his lower back, briefly, then Aiden is standing and saying, "I have to go, the car's waiting," and when he leaves Matt is still lying there, watching him.
"Good luck," he says, and Aiden shuts the door.
They don't speak that day but Matt texts him after every interview, just small, meaningless texts.
harry won't stop hugging me, help
saw u charming the interviewer there ;)
weird without u here :(
Aiden doesn't reply to them. There's not much time between interviews, he's rushed and tired, and where he would usually reply there's a blank space in his train of thought. Matt will understand, he thinks, he'll know Aiden's busy.
In the taxi he closes his eyes for a brief moment and Matt is there, not Matt from that morning or Matt from the last however many weeks but Matt from last night, his hands on Aiden, still shaking slightly as they traced the faint outlines of muscle on Aiden's stomach. They had both laughed then, not from amusement but from disbelief, and at this memory Aiden opens his eyes. The sight and sound of London streets push Matt out of his mind and he lets it stay this way.
That night he texts Matt. It's more brief than he would usually be, but he signs off with a kiss. Thinking about waking up alone makes his head hurt, so he focuses on the present, replies to friends from home, catches up on what's happened in the football.
He dreams about it that night, wakes up feeling foolish and embarrassed. He takes it out on his mother and then feels guilty and cross, takes it out on Matt instead and deliberately ignores his call.
Matt doesn't seem to be as fazed by all this. He keeps texting Aiden, letting him know how the rehearsal is going, keeping Aiden updated on the press coverage. He seems to be particularly amused by the kiss and tell story that crops up quite quickly after Aiden's exit and persists in quoting it to Aiden every half hour with winks and smiley faces abound.
Aiden doesn't know how to respond apart from to tell Matt to shut up, so he just quietly stores every message and when his mother asks who all the texts are from he tells her Louis.
He’s back in the studio a week later anyway, and it’s a cliché but it is like coming home. Everything is so familiar; Aiden can walk around as if he owns the place and anyone he doesn’t recognise is an interloper, someone to be looked at with a slight condescending air. He says this to Matt and Matt laughs at him (with him).
They have a secret that they’re keeping, even though everyone asks and persuades and even bribes to let them in on it. But only Savan knows what’s going on, and everything else is kept under metaphorical lock and key. Aiden stands against a wall and makes faces into the camera, and tries not to start giggling in every shot.
When Matt pretends to kiss him he thinks it’s going to be hard to keep that pretence, but the corridor is full of people and at least three of One Direction are doubled over laughing behind the camera, and in the end it’s nothing really. The ease of falling back into familiar patterns unnerves Aiden more than the knowledge that none of this is familiar anymore, not after what happened.
Aiden takes his cardigan off at some point and leaves it on the back of a chair. When he turns around ten minutes later it’s gone. He looks up, straight at Matt, who has a small smile on his face while he talks to Grace. He’s wearing Aiden’s cardigan. Aiden stares at him. Matt’s terrible at pretending to be oblivious, and Aiden knows full well the smile is for him. It’s always for him, saying, yeah, I know you know I took your cardigan, again, but I like it, and I’m keeping it. And like always, Aiden lets him.
They don’t have any time alone together and Aiden doesn’t know if it would make any difference. All weekend Matt seems set on carrying on as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He holds Aiden around the waist and kisses his shoulder and smiles at him only a little more than normal, only enough to say I’m so glad you’re back, but that’s it. He doesn’t bring it up, so Aiden doesn’t either.
They keep in touch, but they’re both busy and it isn’t as much as they had promised each other. Aiden watches everything he can though, every backstage video and all the performances. When these clash with his gigs he gets his mum to keep him updated and it’s with a pounding in his chest that he checks his phone each Sunday night, anxious to see the message that is always there waiting. Matt’s through. He doesn’t see Matt again until the final night.
On the way to the studios, Aiden is jittery and unfocused, responding to any question in increasingly nonsensical sentences. The returning contestants have been told little about the schedule, and this lack of information only serves to make him more nervous.
He's expecting to be kept separate from Matt and the others, to give them their space, but when he arrives Matt is standing outside, smoking. He sees Aiden straight away and grins, waving Aiden over and pulling him into a hug.
"Alright?" asks Aiden, shifting away from Matt and immediately off balancing, shuffling his feet until he can stand up straight. Matt's looking at his phone, finishing his message, and then he looks up at Aiden, smiles again and gives him another hug.
"It's so nice to see you," he says. "I've been waiting out here for ages."
Aiden grins despite himself, happy just to be around Matt again.
"I'm supposed to be on vocal rest, though," says Matt, "so-" and he mimes zipping his mouth shut.
One of the dancers comes over to wish Matt luck on her way in, smiles and says hello to Aiden, then they're standing on their own again. Aiden rocks back and forth, heel to toe, and says, "I think I'm supposed to go somewhere." He means, I don't want to go anywhere, but it seems he has little control over his speech.
Matt finishes his cigarette and crushes it on top of a bin. Aiden watches him and is caught out when Matt touches a hand to his elbow and nods in the direction of the entrance.
Through the double doors there are more people and a couple of cameras, and Matt lets go of Aiden's elbow. One of the production team calls Matt over and he grimaces at Aiden.
"I'll see you later," Aiden says. Matt brushes his hand across Aiden's cardigan as he leaves, smiling at Aiden over his shoulder.
Aiden smiles for too long after Matt has gone.
Aiden watches Matt rehearse from side-stage. Someone comes up to him, asks him how it feels to be back. He's not sure what he says, he's kind of spacing out. He's remembering a moment, weeks ago, when he and Matt were listening to music together, and talking about What They Would Do If They Got To The Final. It seems like yesterday and yet years ago and Aiden's not sure he's really taking any of it in.
He hopes he didn't say anything embarrassing or incriminating, and he hopes he wasn't rude. He's finding that a lot more these days, that after an interview or conversation with a fan he can never remember quite what was discussed. It's like he just inhabits his body, and doesn't always have control over it. Now, standing in the shadows and trying not to eavesdrop on Matt's conversation with Brian, Aiden feels the need to reach out and put his hand flat against a stack of speakers. It feels like grounding himself, letting some of the nervous energy be absorbed into his surroundings.
Matt doesn't look up, completely involved in the performance, but Aiden doesn't get bored. He thinks he would probably never get bored of watching Matt. Then he glances round, feeling like if anyone was watching him at that moment they might have realised what he was thinking. He feels like an idiot then, puts his hands back into his pockets and makes a face to himself. He hopes he isn't supposed to be anywhere, and then the song starts again and he forgets to worry.
They're post-rehearsal, pre-hairandmakeup, and Matt grabs Aiden and practically drags him back outside. There’s a space they always go, a doorway in which to sit and smoke and get a moment’s peace from the show.
"How's it going?" Aiden asks, trying to ignore the slightly sick feeling in his stomach. He wonders if he's actually more nervous for Matt than he would be if he was still in the final himself.
Matt shrugs, makes a face and doesn't meet Aiden's eyes. Aiden hasn't seen him like this since the judges' houses, so completely overwhelmed.
"Hey.” He reaches out a hand to Matt's shoulder, rests it there in attempted sympathy.
"You're going to be amazing. You already are amazing -
- you're going to smash it," he says, and this thought makes him smile even if Matt still looks like he's going to cry.
Then Aiden runs out of words; there aren’t any he can say that he hasn’t already said and the words he can’t say are wrapped up in the night he left the show. He pulls Matt into a loose hug that Matt immediately latches onto, wrapping his arms around Aiden's waist and digging his chin into Aiden's shoulder.
"Thanks mate," he whispers, and Aiden just squeezes a bit tighter. They stand there and let the minutes tick by. Aiden listens to the traffic noises and tries to breathe in time with Matt. Once he starts to pull back but Matt doesn't follow his lead and so he just shifts his arms and holds on.
He thinks about their friendship, thinks about the intimacy that has been there since the beginning, and wonders what he wants that is any different to this. Matt shows no restraint in the physicality of their interactions, a hand on Aiden’s waist, friendly kisses scattered on his head and shoulders. If anything, Aiden thinks, it is himself who is holding back. Always cautious in his affection, he will talk garrulously and volubly on the subject of Matt but rarely does he give in to the urge to touch him. Here and there he will rest his hand on Matt, but always with brevity that says this is no big deal.
Even now, with Matt pressed against him and no one else around, he doesn’t want to do the wrong thing, to be too sweet. He doesn’t want Matt to pull away and laugh at him, or worse, apologise. So he stays still, and says nothing.
They're breathing in unison and Aiden is absent-mindedly thumbing the seam in Matt's cardigan when Matt finally releases him.
His eyes are a little wet and he brushes a hand across them and laughs a little shaky, a little embarrassed. "Thanks," he says again, so quiet that Aiden only sees his lips move, doesn't hear the word.
"You're going to be amazing," Aiden repeats, because he can't think of anything better. It's what he’s been telling himself when he starts worrying about what's going to happen that night so he hopes maybe it'll help Matt to hear it too.
Matt just looks at him with a slight smile and reaches out, cuffs Aiden lightly on the side of his head, easy affection again.
One of the security staff comes out, wanders over to join them. "Do you mind?" he says, and holds up his cigarette.
Matt waves his hand like, go ahead. The security guard strikes up a conversation, some anecdote about last year's final, and Aiden lets the words wash over him. Every now and then he raises his eyebrows or smiles in what seems the appropriate reaction, but mostly he just watches Matt out of the corner of his eye. Still he feels like if he doesn't look after him then who will. It’s these thoughts that get him into trouble though, that make him forget where the line of their friendship is drawn.
The anecdote lasts the length of a cigarette, then it is ground into the gutter under a heel and the security guy says, "I better head back in."
Aiden is thrown off, lost in his own thoughts. He looks at Matt, who nods back at him. "Yeah," says Aiden.
"Good luck," says the security guy to Matt, who smiles and nods.
"Vocal rest," says Aiden.
On their way in Aiden falls into step behind Matt, letting him lead the way. Backed up in the doorway, he doesn't realise his hands are on Matt's hips until Matt twists around to look at him and places a hand over Aiden's. He looks amused but Aiden is mortified.
"Sorry," he says, and pulls his hands away. Matt just shrugs, turns away from him and walks on.
Acutely aware of the number of people around them, Aiden composes his features, and follows Matt at a safe distance.
They're post-hairandmakeup, pre-wardrobe, and they have time to kill. Matt is still silent but they have progressed to communicating by text, typing messages into Matt’s mobile. Aiden keeps forgetting that just because Matt can't talk doesn't mean he can't either, and their conversations are filled with long pauses in which Matt starts laughing and Aiden gets embarrassed, again.
"I can't help it!" He exclaims, for the fifteenth time that hour. "I keep forgetting either of us can talk."
Matt's snickering quietly into his fist.
"Literally!" Aiden says, and laughs too when people passing give them indulgent glances.
Loser, Matt types on his phone, and holds the screen up to Aiden. Giving Aiden's protests another smile, he takes the phone away and starts typing again.
They've been blocked from entering the finalists' dressing room. More precisely, Aiden's been blocked, and Matt seems to just come as a pair with him. No one seems very surprised by this. When Dannii comes along to check up on her team, she only gives a slight roll of the eyes to their corridor loitering, and squeezes Matt's shoulder as if to say, "I know I have no say in this."
"Find another room if you must," she says, "but remember you're on vocal rest, Matt." And she gives him a warning look. He nods, and Aiden gives her a thumbs-up. Dannii directs her look to him instead, and he shrinks back slightly, trying to look scared but just succeeding in grinning.
"I'm trusting you," she says.
"I won't let him talk," Aiden says, "I promise."
"Okay," says Dannii, and for some reason Aiden feels it necessary to keep talking. "I'm sure we can find some non-verbal activities to occupy ourselves with," he says, and Dannii's eyebrows shoot up.
Aiden makes a face. He's done it again, and isn't quite sure how that conversation came about. He can't remember whether there was any context for making that particular implication, but suspects not. His problem is that these days he's surrounded by other people making those implications for him. It's easy to forget that they're about him, and not some minor celebrity 'bromance', it's easy to join in first and realise his mistake after.
Dannii's laughing though, and Matt's watching him merrily, amused again at Aiden's expense. Aiden grins, a little relieved, and makes a mental note to go on vocal rest from now on.
"That was a little too much information," Dannii says drily, "I think I'll leave you to it." She gives them both a little shove and turns to go into the finalists' room. "I mean it though," she says as they walk away. "If anyone hears a peep out of Matt..." and she lets the implied threat hang in the air between them.
There's a room, with a guitar, and Aiden loses track of how many people apologise and leave after they see who's sitting there. Niall manages to leave three times, coming back in each time to apologise again. "I'm sure people used to like us," Aiden says, "What did you do?"
Matt just stares at him, shakes his head and goes back to his phone. They're listening to a playlist of Matt's, earphones strung between them and Aiden picking out chords on the guitar. Aiden watches as Matt scrolls through, absent-mindedly nodding along. He doesn't know why no one is coming in, but he's not complaining, not really. Sitting there he can almost imagine he never left, that this is just another break in rehearsals and they'll be going back to the house tonight to spend another evening laughing in their room.
Matt looks up and catches his eye. He smiles before Aiden can look away, then he reaches out a finger to Aiden's face. Aiden jerks back a little, not sure where Matt is going with it, but finds his cheek poked anyway. "What are you doing," he says, "weirdo," and Matt snorts.
Aiden eyes him warily. "The strain seems to be getting to you," he says, "should I be worried?"
Matt just bites his lip and smiles again.
"I missed you," he says, but Aiden's just bent his head to the guitar and his thumb on the E string almost drowns Matt out. Matt coughs and looks up at Aiden, amused.
"Sorry," says Aiden. "Sorry."
Matt just watches him until Aiden says, "I missed you too."
And, "I think the whole internet knows it too," he says. "Sorry."
Matt just shrugs a bit and puts on a John Mayer song.
The song is barely over when someone puts their head around the door and this time doesn't leave. "Time," they say, and when Aiden looks at Matt his face is slightly grey. He swallows and looks up at Aiden.
"Now or never," says Aiden, and makes a face. This time Matt doesn't smile, but leans forward and rests his forehead against Aiden's shoulder. For the briefest moment he is there, breathing with Aiden, and then he pulls himself together. Stowing his phone and earphones he nods to the runner still standing in the doorway and stands up.
Aiden feels sick, feels like grabbing Matt's hand and not letting go until the night's over.
He stands, and Matt is already walking out, coughing into his hand and rolling up his sleeves. Aiden replaces the guitar and follows him. He's telling himself to stop panicking, that he needs to be cool and calm for Matt, but the irrationality of his nervous system is more than a match for his inner monologue.
He's got his head down and his thoughts elsewhere and so he walks straight into Matt, blocking the door.
Matt looks at him, puts a hand on the back of his neck. "Alright?" he says, barely above a whisper.
Aiden grimaces. "I'm fine," he says, "I don't have to go out and sing to win the X Factor."
Matt mirrors his grimace. "Thanks for that," he says, and then, "you look like you're going to throw up though, mate, so."
Aiden feels like he's going to throw up. "I feel like I'm going to throw up," he says, and then immediately regrets it. "And stop talking," he says, to cover up his awkwardness. "Dannii's going to kill me."
Matt smirks. "Well if you're not going to follow through on your non-verbal activities..."
Aiden splutters. "Below the belt!" he says, and then realises what he's said. Both of them start laughing, surprised into silliness, forgetting where they are.
When the runner's polite cough brings them back down, Matt rubs his hand through Aiden's quiff and steps back.
"Don't freak out, babe," he says. "Leave that to me."
Babe, Aiden repeats to himself, and bares his teeth when Matt turns away.
Matt Cardle wins the X Factor, and Aiden doesn’t really remember what happens that night. Everyone is excited and happy, talking too loudly and too quickly for everyone else to hear. Aiden is the loudest and most excited of anyone there, staying close to Matt when he can and telling anyone who will listen how amazing this is when he can’t.
The high stays for days, and he rides it out in every medium he can. On twitter and in the press he tells people how happy he is for Matt, how excited he is for him, and not once does anyone doubt his sincerity. He and Matt call each other most days and they even manage to meet up one evening and argue over who buys the celebratory drinks.
They have slipped, unconsciously, into a routine that reflects the one they had in the house together. Aiden suspects this is less due to any intentional change in attitude, and more to do with the fact that once again they are in the same place: gigs, press, fans, adjusting to another new life. Aiden is suddenly the expert, the one who’s seen it all before, and Matt calls him just to say, does this ever let up?
Suddenly Aiden always has time to text back, never puts his phone away and promises no one in particular that he’ll read it later. When he opens a new message he’s disappointed when it isn’t Matt, and when it is he doesn’t even have to read the message before he’s grinning.
The thing is, he tells himself, is that he’s excited. One of his best friends has just won the X Factor, and he’s going to get the Christmas Number 1, and it’s amazing, and Aiden’s so happy for him, and so it makes sense that he’s going to be a bit over the top about Matt for a while.
And then one day he checks his phone and someone’s sent him a link to a tabloid story about Matt, and Aiden knows these things should be taken with a pinch of salt but it still subdues him. He reads the story again and then with a look over his shoulder to check no one’s around he clicks on another link in the article, another story about Matt. From there, he reaches three more, all of them different women, all of them read with an uneasy sense of guilt. He puts his phone away and promises himself he’s not bothered.
But it brings to mind a comment Louis had made a couple of weeks before, a throwaway line about Matt and someone that Aiden hadn’t thought was important at the time. Now he half wishes he had listened, but there’s no point in wondering.
Matt calls him later, but Aiden is soundchecking and Matt leaves a message. He sounds hesitant and unsure, and Aiden has to turn the volume up to hear him.
Hey, buddy Matt says, hope you’re okay today. I guess you’re probably sound checking or something. Anyway I just wanted to check in.
He leaves a long pause.
Anyway I did this interview today and they talked about the tabloid stories, you know how they do. But it just-
And here he stops again.
I probably should have mentioned it to you, but I didn’t, and I wanted to talk to you about it before it’s printed in the magazine.
So, call me when you get this, or whenever, if you want. I- yeah. Okay. Bye. Sorry this is such a long message.
Aiden’s hands are shaking a little. He goes to call Matt back, but someone comes in the room and asks him a question, and then maybe he forgets or maybe he just puts the phone in his pocket but either way he doesn’t call Matt back, not that night.
Aiden doesn’t call Matt back the next day either, and that evening Matt writes love u aiden on his twitter, and Aiden doesn’t think he’s being unfair if he says that Matt is letting social media make the reconciliatory gesture for him.
Newspapers will say anything. Aiden knows that. But public gestures of affection tend to corroborate dubiously sourced stories. Aiden reads the articles again, and again, and when his mum comes in with a cup of tea he puts his hand in front of his face and talks through it to hide the fact that he has no control over what his mouth is doing. It turns down at the corners when he's trying to smile and he can hear how weird his voice is.
The next time he and Matt talk it is only brief. They exchange anecdotes about their day and talk about their families and then when they share their frustrations with the press Aiden makes his excuses and ends the phone call before Matt can segue into anything more dangerous.
So they carry on, limping somewhat through their routine, fewer phone calls and more text messages, fewer private jokes and more general banter amongst all their acquaintances from the show, and if Aiden still lights up when it’s Matt’s name in the caller ID, he tries not to think about that.
It's one in the morning, and Aiden is lying in a hotel bed, watching a late night thriller. He knows he needs to turn it off and go to sleep, but he doesn't. It's a contest with himself to see how long he can put off the inevitable. When it finishes, Aiden is so worried about disturbing other guests that he turns the volume down until only a murmur comes out. He flicks through the channels in a loop, staying only a second on each before getting bored.
By two o'clock, Aiden is unrelentingly awake. BBC 24 is on, and he is reading the scrolling headlines with eyes that ache. He gets up once to get a glass of water but leaves it on the bedside table after one sip. He feels really lonely, he decides, but it's probably a bit late for that. On the off chance, he texts Matt.
An hour later he's in a McDonalds, hovering inside the doorway, hoping no one recognises him and hoping no one tells him he can't wait there. He gets out his phone and rereads his conversation with Matt, like maybe upon the fourth read it will become apparent that he dreamt it and in fact Matt never said that at all.
Sounds like sleep is a lost cause. Do u want company?
Company like what - Aiden had replied, wanting to make a flippant remark but not knowing how - what are you offering?
That hadn't come out right. Every time he reads it he feels more stupid, more nervous. He hates texting. Not being able to see someone's face, gauge their reaction. Like being on the X Factor; how can you get people to vote for you if you can't see them? It hadn't made much sense to Aiden in the end.
Matt had taken ages to reply, each minute agonisingly embarrassing to Aiden. Then,
;) i'm sure i could get a 1d boy over there pretty quick if that's what you're looking for
Aiden had been simultaneously crushed and amused, relieved too that Matt had steered the conversation away from that. At least one of them could be responsible, it seemed. But Matt had sent another,
No but I'm serious, do you want me to come round? I'm awake now anyway.
Aiden, being Aiden, had avoided the question, made a mention of the tabloids and late night hotel visits, skirted round the offer. It didn't do much good, and now he was standing here, hood pulled forward over his face, glasses on, his biggest cardigan to ward off the unfriendliness of late night London. Waiting again for the inevitability of the night to play out. He can see it all ahead of them and even as Matt arrives, comes up close and puts an arm around him, he knows he should leave.
They go inside, instead, and they order and Aiden rests his head in his hands, his elbows on the counter and only a balancing act between him and the floor keeps him upright. Matt rests a hand on the back of his neck and says, softly, "Alright there, night owl?"
Aiden doesn't answer, just stands up and stares straight ahead. He lets Matt order for them both, and pay, and doesn't say a word.
Seated in the corner they drink their teas in silence; everything is muted at this time of night and Aiden knows their voices will carry. It isn’t until a group of teenagers enter, loud and oblivious, that they can talk. Aiden's not really sure what he wants to talk about, only that he's felt this sense of displacement for weeks now and he thinks it probably has something to do with Matt. There's a feeling of injustice, a resentment towards Matt, for how easily he's glossed over what happened. Aiden had thought they were in this together, but lately they've been out of sync.
He doesn't know how to articulate this though, to articulate it in a way that Matt will pick up on. In a way, too, that will give Aiden a get out clause in case he ends up intimating a completely different state of affairs. One, for instance, in which he's sort of hopelessly besotted with Matt, can't stop thinking about that night, and is going to be a bit miserable until Matt tells him it wasn't a one off.
Matt clears his throat, pauses, takes a gulp of tea, and pauses again. Aiden watches his reflection in the window, watches Matt watching Aiden, and waits for him to make the first move.
It takes him ten minutes, but he does.
"Tell me if you don't agree," he says, cautious and quiet, "but I feel like you and me, we're out of sorts."
Touché, Aiden thinks. He gives Matt a brief look, registers the way he looks at Aiden like he's waiting for him to do a runner.
"Yeah," Aiden says. "I know."
There's another long pause.
Then Matt clears his throat again. "I want to talk about it," he says, "but I'm not sure what you want me to say."
Aiden doesn't want Matt to say anything in particular, but in the end it's a 'remember when' that gets them talking.
"Do you remember," Matt says, and Aiden thinks, no, I don't, I don't want to be nostalgic about that time.
"Do you remember what I said to you, when we first met?"
Aiden is surprised. It takes him a moment: not to remember, but to confirm the memory.
"You said I was amazing."
And Matt smiles.
And so it goes, with Matt drawing Aiden out through reminiscent words and phrases until their conversation is back and forth and Aiden is no longer watching the window.
"Do you remember," Matt says, "when I made you wait three hours for me to finish in the studio so that we could go back together?"
And Aiden smiles.
"I wanted to go back with you," he says, and it feels like an admission. He looks down at his cup, empty now and cold to the touch. He can feel Matt watching him.
"Remember when," Matt starts, and Aiden holds his breath until he hears the change of subject.
In the end, they run out of cowardice before they run out of memories, and after a break in conversation Matt says, "I know you want us to talk about what happened."
He doesn't sound reluctant or even resigned, but Aiden shakes his head anyway.
"No," he says, and then, "I don't know."
"Do you remember what I said," he says, "when we first met?"
"When I told you that you were amazing?"
Aiden nods.
"You said I was amazing too."
They look at each other, then, glance away when they both smile.
"I think you've called me amazing about fifty times in the last week alone," Matt says, and Aiden can't help but laugh.
"Yeah," he says, "and what do I get in return?"
"I know, I'll have to up my game."
Matt rests his chin in his hand, bites his lip to keep from smiling still, and looks at Aiden.
Aiden doesn't stop himself from smiling, he lets it take over. It feels like an age since last he found himself smiling freely and fully. They sit and smile and watch as the group from before stand and leave the place in a cacophony of noise. Then it is quiet again and Aiden raises his eyebrows at Matt.
"What do you think," says Matt, "had enough?"
And Aiden remembers where they are and why they are there, and remembers where he knew the night would go. But he doesn't have the impetus to challenge this. It requires strength of will that he hasn't yet found. So he says yes, and he lets them leave together, lets Matt find the taxi and tell the driver his hotel, lets Matt pay and lead him inside. In the lobby they both half-heartedly pull clothes over their faces, though Aiden suspects this does more harm than good.
In the lift, Matt curls his hand briefly around Aiden's waist and rests his chin on Aiden's shoulder. He drops a kiss on Aiden's collar and has pulled away before Aiden even registers it.
In the hotel room they don't speak; there is nothing to discuss. They remove outer layers and Aiden asks to use the bathroom. When he comes out, Matt is in bed, the only light from the reading lamp above his head. Aiden sits on the edge of the bed to take off his trousers and socks.
He lies down and Matt watches him. "Feel better?" he asks, but it is rhetorical and Aiden just waits for Matt to lean down and kiss him.
Matt pulls back only to turn off the light. He says goodnight, but they kiss again and underneath the covers their bodies align. Cold hands slide under warm t-shirts, and at the touch of their bare legs together Aiden stops thinking.
Aiden wakes up, and for one brief, awful moment he is alone again. Then the door opens and Matt is there, carrying two styrofoam cups in cardboard holders. He smiles at Aiden.
“Did you just wake up?”
Aiden feels like he is barely conscious. There’s a dull ache behind his eyes and his throat is dry.
“What time is it?”
Matt puts the cups down beside the bed and checks his phone. “Eight-ish,” he says, “we’ve got a bit of time before people come looking.”
Matt takes his trousers off again before he gets back into bed, and Aiden forgets to look away. He closes his eyes, unsure and too tired to pretend otherwise.
“You alright?” Matt asks, and no, Aiden thinks, no, I feel terrible, and I want a hug. But the more he wakes up the more he gets a sinking feeling, a distinct feeling that he shouldn’t be there.
Matt’s knee touches Aiden’s and stays there, and Aiden feels a little desperate.
“I don’t think this is a good idea,” he says, and Matt reaches out, grips his arm.
“No, Aiden,” he says, “don’t do that again.”
Aiden frowns, feels inexplicably and unfairly guilty. “Again?” he says, “When did I do this last time?”
Matt sighs and shuts his eyes, dropping his head slightly. “No,” he says, “I didn’t mean- I don’t want to have a go at you about that.”
“About what,” Aiden says, frustrated and still feeling guilty.
“No,” Matt says, “seriously, forget it, just please don’t leave right now. Talk to me about what’s going on.”
Aiden wants nothing more than to shut his eyes, pull the covers over his head and go back to sleep, to wake up in his own hotel room and have done nothing last night. He doesn’t know where this is going, doesn’t know how to talk about what he’s been thinking for the last four weeks. Matt’s voice is too calm, too measured for what is happening. Aiden sits up away from Matt, his back and shoulders curving in on themselves.
After a moment, Matt sits up too. Aiden feels the bed dip and then Matt’s hand on his back. Matt sighs, and Aiden feels it on his skin, a sigh followed by lips pressed against his shoulder, once, twice.
“Aiden,” he says, and it’s an admonishment although Aiden doesn’t know what for. He could admonish himself; he could tell himself that he was an idiot to text Matt last night, to meet him, to tell him what seemed like secrets at the time, to come back here with him. But he doesn’t think Matt feels that way.
Matt’s hand drifts down to Aiden’s waist, and he says Aiden’s name again.
“Please talk to me,” he says, “I don’t know what’s going on.”
Aiden breathes in and then out, and before he knows what he’s saying he speaks.
“I don’t want this,” he says, but it’s not what he means.
“I don’t want-“, he says, and then he gives up trying to find a better excuse. “I don’t want to do this and then read about you in the papers for the next three weeks.”
Matt makes a small sound behind him.
“Those papers will print anything,” he says, “you should know that.”
Aiden sits up a little straighter, and Matt moves his hand.
“I do,” he says, “but I also know your friends and people on the show and I know that some of those stories are true, so don’t try and pretend otherwise.”
Matt’s hand leaves his back and Aiden feels him move away. When he speaks it is his turn to sound guilty and frustrated.
“Fine,” he says, “fine, Aiden, yes, I slept with her, but that’s all it was.”
Aiden shakes his head.
“Look at me,” Matt says, sits forward so that he can see Aiden’s face. Aiden looks determinedly straight ahead and sets his jaw.
“Do I call her every day?”
“Maybe,” Aiden says, and feels petulant. “I wouldn’t know, would I.”
“I don’t, of course I don’t. I’m too busy calling you.”
Aiden shakes his head again.
“I’m too busy waking up at two in the morning and going to meet you in a McDonalds, just because you feel a bit sad.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“No, but I did anyway.”
He leans in to Aiden and curves a hand around his neck. “I’m not great at this, I don’t know what we’re doing, but I just want you to be happy with whatever this is.”
And there it is, Aiden thinks, there’s Matt’s speech. And Aiden has to either believe it or not. He has to put faith in the last three months of knowing Matt, or he has to decide that he doesn’t know him after all. The first time they met, Matt had told Aiden he was amazing, and Aiden had said the same back, and they haven’t left each other’s side since. The night Aiden left, he had wanted to kiss Matt, but Matt had been the one to do it.
He’s scared to give in, to say yes, this is what our friendship is now, I trust you to know what you’re doing even when you don’t.
But Matt woke up and went to get them tea, and now he drops a kiss on Aiden’s shoulder, and it’s too much to keep doubting everything. Aiden doesn’t have that kind of resolve. And part of him thinks he doesn’t need it either.
“No more true stories in the papers,” he mumbles.
“No,” Matt says. “No more.”
Aiden closes his eyes and Matt pulls him across, rests Aiden’s head on his shoulder. Then they’re kissing, again, but this time it’s in daylight and this time they talk. When Matt slips his hand into Aiden’s boxers they laugh, and swear at each other, and laugh again. When Aiden bites down on Matt’s shoulder, Matt says, “X Rated X Factor,” and Aiden tips his head back and laughs till Matt kisses him again.
Afterwards Matt puts Aiden’s arms around him and says, “Better.”
Aiden says, “If your manager walked in right now, what would you say?”
Matt doesn’t hesitate. “I’d tell her to come back later,” he says.
“And if a journalist walked in, what would you say?”
“I wouldn’t say a single thing; I’d just do the most X-rated things to you right in front of her.” And Aiden laughs and says, “What?” but it is lost as Matt tightens his arms around Aiden and kisses him.
“What about your mum,” Aiden asks, a little breathless.
Matt looks bemused. “Um,” he says, “same as my manager I guess.”
“What about my mum?”
Matt smirks. “I’d tell her it was nothing she hadn’t seen before.”
Aiden grimaces. “That’s just weird,” he says.
“No,” says Matt, “I wouldn’t bother saying anything; it’d be up on twitter before I could get a word in edgeways.”
Aiden laughs, rolls his eyes a little. They lie there a little longer, just watching each other, and then Aiden says, “How X-rated is X-rated,” and Matt grins and looks at him fondly. He leans up to kiss Aiden and then his phone goes off, vibrating its way across the nightstand.
“Sorry,” he says, and he lets go of Aiden to answer it.
Aiden watches him as he takes the call. Matt is propped up on his elbow, and he looks down as he talks, chews his lip and plays with the seam of the duvet cover. Every movement and every fidgeting action is familiar to Aiden as if he is watching himself, and the thought makes him relax, falling back against the pillows. Matt looks up at him, focuses for a second on Aiden and not the phonecall, and then he’s apologising, asking whoever it is to repeat what they just said.
“Yeah,” he says, “ten minutes no problem. We’ll meet you out front.”
“No,” he says, “I’ll, whatever. See you in a bit.”
He hangs up and looks at his phone, muddling about with it before he looks at Aiden again. “My manager,” he says, “I need to get ready.”
Aiden nods, feeling sleepy and lazy.
“You want a shower?”
“Nah.”
Matt stares at him. “Are you sure?” he says, “Because you kind of smell.”
They try to keep up the pretence of the insult, but Aiden is too sleepy to do much more than show his teeth, and Matt was never good at keeping a straight face and he caves after barely two seconds, ducking his head and smiling.
“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”
Five minutes later and they’re both dressed and standing by the door. Matt makes a face at the cup in Aiden’s hand. “That has got to be cold,” he says.
Aiden shrugs. “It’s alright,” he says, “It’s still lukewarm actually.”
“Where did I put my fags?” Matt goes around the room lifting up various items of clothing and peering under them. Aiden pulls a crumpled packet from his pocket. “Found them,” he says, and looks shifty when Matt eyes him from under the brim of his cap.
“You thieving bastard,” Matt says, and Aiden turns the corners of his mouth down.
“I was looking after them for you.”
Matt smiles despite himself.
“Shall we go then?” he says, one hand on the door and one in his pocket.
Aiden hesitates. “Do you want to go down separately?” he says. “Um.”
Matt frowns.
“If you want,” Aiden adds, “I won’t be offended.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
Aiden makes a face. “People will talk,” he says, and Matt steps up to him very close and puts both hands on Aiden’s waist.
“Let them talk,” he says. “I don’t give a fuck.”
He kisses Aiden, and they leave the room together.
“Can I have a sip?” Matt closes his hand around Aiden’s tea.
“Er no,” says Aiden. “You had your own, this is mine.”
“I left mine in the room.”
“Tough luck then.”
“You’re smoking my fag.”
Aiden sighs. “Fine,” he says, “have my tea.”
Matt snorts. “You know what I love about you,” he says, taking the tea out of Aiden’s hand, "it's your graciousness”.
Aiden squints at Matt, and then grins despite himself.
Eight men walk into an Australian beach house. It's a long and poorly told joke, but the punchline is worth it.
[One of them smiles at the other, like 'let's be friends'. They kiss alone in a dark room. One man walks out an instant celebrity.]
Eight men walk into an Australian beach house. Three months later two of them stand outside a Premier Inn, sharing a cigarette and a tea. They look at each other and they think, yeah, this is going to work.