Fic; 'Save Me (From Myself); X Factor 2010 RPS; Aiden/Matt; [2/2]
EDIT: There's now an additional two scenes (which is linked in this post at the appropriate place) that I somehow forgot to put in originally. So, um, if you're interested, the link's near the bottom of the aforementioned post, or alternatively, here. :D /fail
After that, Aiden talks to Matt all the time.
At first he worries that he’s annoying Matt. But then he doesn’t text him for two days and Matt asks him concernedly if his phone broke when they meet up for drinks one evening, and Aiden doesn’t worry as much anymore.
Liam says it’s sweet and offers Aiden quiet smiles every time Aiden mentions Matt. Louis tells Aiden that he expects to be joint-best man with the rest of the boys, but wants to be head best man, and goes into a convoluted tale of exactly how their wedding will be and who will do what. Aiden indulges him, which is a sign of something probably.
Aiden finds himself looking forward to the end of each day. He is able to deal with the craziness of his job when there is the promise of time with Matt, making fun of bad TV, eating crappy takeaway, arguing about music. After a particularly stressful rehearsal - Aiden kept missing the high notes, and Brian was getting annoyed - he slammed into his apartment to find Matt in his kitchen throwing water chestnuts into a stir fry.
“What are you doing here?” Aiden asks. He wants to lock himself in his room and just cry, but Matt seems like the next best thing.
“Somebody called Liam Hurt or something texted me,” Matt says pulling plates out of a cupboard. He’s looking sheepish, and is still facing away from Aiden. “He said he was a friend of yours, and that you’d had a shit day. Your security guy recognized me, so I let myself in. I hope you don’t mind -”
Aiden drops his bag and walks over to bury his face in Matt’s shoulder. Without any hesitation, Matt wraps his arms around him and just holds him. Aiden sniffles for a bit, and Matt makes shhing sounds, then dishes up their food and lets Aiden vent about how much pressure he’s under and how much he hates the current concert tour, and then about the One Direction boys’ endless meddling which amuses Matt. It’s not until they’ve eaten and Aiden is up to his elbows in soapy water, handing Matt dripping cutlery that he realizes he feels much better.
“Thank you,” he tells him when Matt’s about to leave a few hours later. “I really needed... that helped.”
Matt smiles and pulls Aiden into a hug. “No problem, mate,” he says. As he pulls back he kisses the side of Aiden’s neck. “Anytime, okay?”
Maybe it’s because he’s suddenly peaceful and happy, but Aiden forgets himself and leans down to press a kiss to Matt’s mouth. “Thanks, Matt.”
Matt looks at him like he wants to say something more, do something more, but in the end he just grips Aiden’s hand before departing.
--
The concert tour is over, and Aiden has never been so relieved.
The first thing he does is call Matt. He doesn’t want to think about that too closely.
“We could have celebratory pizza,” Matt offers. Aiden can hear the smile in his voice.
“Yeah,” Aiden breathes. “Yeah, okay, that sounds fantastic.” Everything sounds fantastic when Matt says it. Matt just laughs and they agree to meet up at Pizza Express.
It was probably because he was so excited about seeing Matt again, and the fact that he’d had a few drinks with Zayn and Niall before heading out, but Aiden forgets to be cautious. He is spotted by a small knot of cameramen just after they finish eating. And then everything goes downhill, and Aiden can feel the uncomfortable swell behind his eyes and he just wants to sit quietly and talk, but there are the unrelenting questions.
Who’s he with? Is this a date? How does he feel now the concert tour is over?
Some of the questions are directed at Matt, who just sits there bemusedly, fiddling with his glasses.
“Does your ex-girlfriend know that you’re dating someone new already?” one guy asks.
Aiden feels a little piece of his restraint snap. “Already?” he asks, rounding on him. “It’s been a year!” And that’s not what he wanted to say, or the point he wanted to make, but he’s so mixed up and tired and tipsy, and then Matt’s standing up.
Aiden closes his eyes so he doesn’t have to watch Matt walk out. Instead, he feels heavy hands grip his forearms and haul him up.
“C’mon,” Matt mutters. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Where?” Aiden feels another little stab of hopelessness. “I think One Direction have commandeered my flat.”
“Mine.” Matt says it like it’s obvious, and steers him out of the cluster of paparazzi. They follow them as Matt hustles Aiden onto the street and into the nearest taxi. The taxi driver looks startled at the swarm of people, but drives off hastily when Matt barks at him to ‘floor it’.
Aiden sits still for a moment. “‘Floor it’?” he asks eventually. “We’re not in an action movie.”
Matt cracks a smile, but only just. “Gut reaction.”
Matt’s flat is on a quiet street. They stumble out onto the pavement after Matt pays the driver, and Aiden grips his cardigan tightly around himself as they hurry into the building. He feels encroached upon, and it’s bothering him more than it should, he knows. He just watches the shivering floor of the lift and doesn’t look at Matt. They dismount at the fifth floor and Matt fumbles with his keys. He lets them in and locks the door behind them and Aiden finally feels his pulse even out.
“I hate the press,” Aiden says after a bit. He can feel his eyes threatening to spill over with frustrated tears. His throat is tight and he isn’t going to cry in front of Matt. He turns away and stares at a crack in the wall, willing himself to calm down.
Warm fingers find his shoulder, and he’s being tugged gently back around.
“Hey,” Matt says, and he sounds understanding and gentle and insistent all at once. “C’mon. It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have suggested Pizza Express. We should’ve gone somewhere quieter.”
“It’s every day,” Aiden grits out. “Every day, I can’t go out and do what I want, I can’t see who I want to see. I hate it.”
Matt looks worried, and Aiden belatedly realizes he can feel him shaking through his cardigan. He tries to turn away again.
Matt steps forward and hugs him, one of those full-on chest-to-thigh things and his hands are at the small of Aiden’s back. Aiden lets his face squash into the junction of Matt’s neck and shoulder, and just inhales and tries not to think. Matt’s making shushing noises. And, oh, that’s because Aiden’s actually crying now. He’s sobbing against Matt and fisting his hands in Matt’s daft flannel shirt thing.
At some point, Aiden draws away enough to look Matt in the eye, and Matt’s eyes are burning in a way that makes the pit of Aiden’s stomach wrench. Then Matt’s kissing him, and God it’s so much better than Aiden imagined, and he can taste their meal and cigarette smoke and beer. Matt’s undoing his cardigan with some difficulty, negotiating zips and scarves. They’re shedding layers like they’re moulting. Matt steers Aiden backwards, and the next thing Aiden knows his calves are hitting wood and he’s falling onto a bed, Matt right there, hands finally against skin. And maybe it’s the drinking he did earlier, or maybe it’s just because it’s Matt and he’s kind of like his own drug, but Aiden is intoxicated. All he feels is Matt above him, like his gravity has been reversed and he’s falling up, and he can’t feel the sheets or the bed, just Matt, oh, Matt, and the world seems very far away.
--
The first thing he hears when he wakes up is the radio.
He’s lying in his stomach in bed, and he can tell he’s naked by the cool draft over his back and left leg. The rest of him seems to be strewn with a sheet. It’s not-quite light, the lull between late night and early morning, and Aiden’s body clock is telling him he should still be asleep. But he’s suddenly restless. He kicks himself over onto his back. His head pounds.
“Ow,” Aiden says out loud. His voice sounds shocking to his own ears, raspy and raw, and his throat doesn’t feel too great either. As he grapples with the covers he feels the rest of the aches and pains and then the events of the previous night come rushing back.
Matt’s not there.
The bed is empty, just a lot of wrinkled sheets and some marks that could be shadows, but Aiden doesn’t think so. The radio seems to be coming from the kitchen, tinny and warbling and slightly out of tune, so that static escapes with a crackle every few minutes.
Matt’s not there. Aiden pulls on a pair of boxers he finds on one corner of the headboard. Shuffling, trying to minimise the pain, he explores the flat. It’s small, but comfortable, and Matt is nowhere to be found.
Aiden stops in the kitchen. The radio is propped against the windowpane, the aerial taped to the glass. He pulls the plug from the socket, then goes back to the bedroom and sits on the edge of the mattress with his head in his hands.
One Direction are still there when Aiden gets back to his flat. Louis is passed out on Aiden’s bed, and Aiden doesn’t have the energy to move him. He slumps down next to Louis, who stirs and throws an arm over Aiden casually. Aiden curls up into Louis’ warmth and tries to stop shaking.
“Alright, mate?” Louis mumbles.
“No.” Aiden buries his face in the jumper of Zayn’s that Louis is wearing. “Everything’s awful.”
Louis pulls Aiden closer and Aiden can feel his steady breathing. “I’m sorry.”
--
“Maybe there was a misunderstanding,” Liam offers.
“How? He was gone when I woke up.”
“What was his plan?” Harry says. “It was his flat. Was he planning on staying out until Aiden had gone? Sounds a bit stupid to me.”
Aiden just closes his eyes and wishes he was someone else.
--
Aiden doesn’t know why he listens to Louis. Louis’ answer to everything seems to be either alcohol or carrots, or, if the situation is a really serious one, advice from Liam. When he sees Aiden moping around he seems to think alcohol is in order, and he and his bandmates drag Aiden to their hotel room one night with several bottles of premixed shot cocktails. In an hour, Aiden is freely admitting how miserable he is, and though he knows he’ll feel awful the next morning, talking is quite therapeutic.
After three hours, though, it’s starting to get old, and Aiden just wants to curl up somewhere alone and cry himself to sleep.
“Do you want to know what I think?” Louis hiccups.
Aiden doesn’t move from where his face is mashed into Zayn’s shoulder. “No.”
“I think you should just go talk to him.” Louis attempts to pour a shot, misses, and soaks the carpet.
Aiden snorts. “Oh, I’ll just go talk to him. Like he wants anything to do with me after -” He stops abruptly, gnawing on his bottom lip.
“You had sex,” Niall sing-songs from the bottom of the bed, like that’s helpful.
“Correction, they had good sex,” Harry says. “And then he ran away.” He reaches over and pats Aiden’s head consolingly.
“I didn’t run away,” Aiden whines plaintively. “He was gone. He did a runner! I just took myself off home so things wouldn’t be awkward when he finally got back, you know, because it was his flat.”
“Semantics,” Louis says. “Call him.”
“You still have his number?” Liam asks incredulously. Aiden wishes, not for the first time, that Liam wasn’t always the least-drunk one among them. It allowed him to make irritatingly accurate observations.
“I was going to delete it,” Aiden says. “Eventually.”
Liam just whistles. “You’ve got it bad.”
“Fuck off, seriously.”
“Call him,” Louis repeats. “Or I will, and I’ll tell him you’re pining and depressed and that if he doesn’t get his act together you’ll get dropped from Monell.”
Aiden peels an eyelid open to see Louis’ expression; it’s uncharacteristically serious.
“Fine,” Aiden concedes. He must be wasted, he thinks, but accepts his mobile from Louis anyway. “And what exactly do you propose I say?”
“Tell him you love him,” Niall suggests.
Aiden thinks that Niall is probably the least helpful person he knows, and tells him so.
“That might be laying it on a teensy bit too thick,” Louis decides. “Stick to the basics; you had great sex - don’t squeak at me, Aidey, you told us about it - and you want a repeat performance. Over and over and over.”
“I cannot call him and tell him I want to have great sex with him over and over and over,” Aiden says. “That’s grounds for a restraining order. Also, it’s desperate.”
Louis just looks at him.
“I hate you,” Aiden says, and drags himself upright. “I’m going outside. Don’t listen in.”
“Good luck,” they all chorus. Aiden slams the door behind him.
It takes ten minutes for Aiden to even get the nerve to find Matt in his contacts list, and when he does, his thumb hovers over the call button for so long it begins to cramp. Finally, after much psyching up and trying to convince himself that this isn’t the end of the world even though it feels like it is, he growls “Man up” and presses.
It seems like an eternity. The phone rings, six times, seven times, and Aiden’s about to hang up and go drown himself or something when Matt answers.
“Hello?” he says, and he sounds breathless, like he’s sprinted to the phone. Aiden almost hangs up anyway, but remembers caller ID and doesn’t want to look like even more of a twat.
“Hey,” he says, and his voice is shakier than he’d like. “It’s me.”
“Oh! Hi.” Matt’s voice is suddenly polite. “I, um, I wasn’t expecting you to call.”
“Oh, right.”
“I mean, it’s two in the morning.”
Aiden checks his watch, and groans. “Oh God, sorry. I didn’t realize. I’ve been with the lads all evening.”
“S’alright, I was up anyway. Um,” Matt is obviously wondering what to say next.
“Look,” Aiden says, and freezes because he hasn’t really planned this, and he doesn’t know how to phrase what he wants to say.
Matt makes a noise, like prompting him to go on, and Aiden tries again.
“About the other day.” He picks at a hole in his sleeve, trying not to think too much. “Look, I’m sorry I left without saying anything. I, ah, I just assumed it’d be okay, since you weren’t there...” he trails off, hoping for an explanation.
“Right.” Matt’s voice is unreadable. “I understand.”
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” Aiden says. “I wasn’t running off.”
“No, no, of course not,” Matt says.
“I really enjoyed - um, well, the meal and... everything.” Aiden feels himself flushing. “I didn’t want you to think otherwise.”
“It’s fine, I get it.” Matt sounds tired. “But don’t worry, because it’s over now, and you don’t even have to speak to me again, if you don’t want to.”
Aiden just stands there dumbly. He chokes out, “What?”
“I know you’re just saying this because you’re freakishly polite, and - I don’t know, maybe you feel like you owe me for the meal or something. But it’s okay, really. I get it. You don’t need to make excuses for me.”
“Wait,” Aiden says, because this is all wrong. “What?”
Matt’s voice is weary now, and Aiden imagines him rubbing his forehead. “Look, Aid, I need to go. I’ve got practice tomorrow.”
“Oh,” Aiden says, but can’t think of anything to add so it sounds like an affirmation, and it’s not, but then Matt’s mumbling again.
“Just - take care of yourself, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Aiden echoes, because he doesn’t know what the fuck is going on anymore. “Um.”
The line goes dead before he can say “You, too”, but he’s not sure if that even matters.
On deadened legs he walks back to the room. One Direction are still splayed out on the floor. Zayn’s head is in Liam’s lap now, and he’s snoring while Liam strokes his fringe out of his eyes. Louis looks up as Aiden enters, eyes bright, and he opens his mouth to frame the question but before he can make a sound Aiden starts laughing. He laughs and laughs until he can’t breathe, and then he starts to cry, and even Louis’ enveloping hug can’t make it stop.
--
From: Louis’s Awesome
Time: Friday, 9:07 AM
Message: we missed u ystrday man. Where are yu? xx
From: Harry Styles
Time: Saturday, 10:30 AM
Message: Hey mate our rehearsals weren’t the same without you !! hope your ok :( xxx
From: Payne Liam
Time: Saturday, 13:43 PM
Message: Everybody’s worried about you. We haven’t heard from you since last week. What’s going on?
From: Niall Horan
Time: Sunday, 15:08 PM
Message: yo this is zayn. Wats up man we’re all worried bout u, Louis is planning sumthin X
From: Louis’s Awesome
Time: Monday, 19:10 PM
Message: If your messing with us Aid I swear. Fucking text me
From: zayn malik
Time: Monday, 21:00 PM
Message: cmon message somebody. Cathy keeps telling us ur ill wats going on reli
From: Louis’s Awesome
Time: Tuesday, 6:31 AM
Message: THIS IS UR 24 HR WARNING. IM COMING UP THERE IF IVE NOT HEARD ANYTHING BY TOMORO. RESIST AT UR PERIL xxx
--
At six thirty on Wednesday morning, there is a knock at the door of Aiden’s flat. When there is no answer, there is muttering outside and then a scraping at the lock. Within four minutes the lock yields and Liam, looking very pleased with himself, puts the picks back in his messenger bag. Niall is looking worried.
“I looked it up on the Internet,” Liam supplies. Niall edges away from him.
“This is why you’re a valuable member of our band,” Louis tells Liam solemnly. “You’re devilishly handsome and you have unparalleled Google-fu.”
“What happened to the ‘Bieber cut’?” Liam asks, but he’s blushing and still smiling.
“More pressing matters,” Zayn cuts in. “Such as the possibility of us finding Aiden dead in there. I mean he’s sent his security guy away - fans could have broken in and molested him or anything.”
The mood sobers instantly. “Right,” Louis says. “Action stations, men. Niall and Zayn, take, um, the left half. Harry and Liam take the right half.”
“What about you?” Harry asks as they close the door gingerly behind them. The place smells of unwashed bodies and crusty plates.
“I’m going to have 999 on speed-dial and offer encouragements.”
“But -”
“GO! Post haste!” Louis flaps his hands and the others disperse.
It’s Liam that finds Aiden in his bedroom. He’s curled up under his duvet with his iPod speakers burbling away on his desk. Liam edges cautiously over to it and checks the display. He frowns; it’s Seven Summers’ album on repeat, and the battery is almost dead.
“I found him,” Liam calls. Elsewhere in the flat there are thumps and small cries of relief.
“Aiden,” Liam says sharply. “It’s time to get up.” He goes over to the lump on the mattress and prods it.
“Gerrof, goway,” Aiden slurs. His voice is scratchy and weak, like he’s been crying.
“You’re not going to survive without help. Being emo by yourself listening to his music isn’t healthy.” Liam begins prying the duvet away.
“’M not emo,” Aiden says, and his face emerges. His eyes are stuck shut and there are lines of the sheet wrinkles etched in his skin. His quiff is plastered against his face. He’s got the unwashed air of the morning after the night before.
“Where is he?” Louis demands then, bursting into the room. The others are right behind him. “I’m going to kill him. I’ve been worried sick.” He lunges at Aiden. “You absolute wanker Aiden Grimshaw!” he yells, then he falls on top of him in a hug, all flailing limbs. Liam moves back a bit to give them some space.
When Louis removes himself from Aiden he’s looking a bit teary. He holds Aiden at arms’ length and finally assesses the situation. “Ew,” he says. “You’re rank, Aid. You look like death warmed up.” But he still pulls him back in for another hug.
Aiden sniffs loudly and wipes his nose on his wrist. “Thanks for that,” he says, muffled by Louis’ shoulder. But he’s hugging back, and it’s a start.
All six of them end up crammed around Aiden’s kitchen table. After raiding the cupboards only to find them bare, Liam sends Niall for supplies and ends up cooking them all breakfast. Aiden sits in the corner, watching Liam make his kitchen come alive, but every time he offers to help Louis just pushes him back down and makes him tea. He’s on his third cup by the time breakfast is ready, and he realizes how ravenous he is. He’d been surviving on toast and cereal bars for days.
“I don’t know what to do,” Aiden says after they’re finished, picking at a bit of congealed sausage on his plate. The food and company have made him lethargic and talkative, and for once the others seem content to just listen to him. “I know it’s stupid, but - I can’t help it. I miss him.”
Louis makes a humming sound and refills Aiden’s mug. Louis seems to think tea is the best substitute for alcohol and can cure all ills, not that Aiden is complaining.
“I just don’t know what I’ve done wrong,” Aiden murmurs. “I called him and told him I didn’t mean to run out. But he just - he acted like I said the opposite.”
“Are you sure you were... clear?” Harry asks.
“Yeah,” Niall says. “No offense mate, but you’re not as straightforward as you think you are. You need to spell this stuff out sometimes.”
“I was clear.” Aiden links his fingers so hard they hurt. “And so was he.”
Louis just reaches across the table and grasps Aiden’s arm, and Aiden wishes that could make everything okay.
--
“Okay, Louis, so what’s this master plan of yours?”
“No need for the scepticism Niall.”
“He’s right. Out with it then, man. I don’t think Aiden can last much longer.”
“He really is a needy bastard.”
“He’ll owe us for this forever.”
“He’s already said he doesn’t want to be a sixth wheel. So you can stop getting your hopes up, Louis.”
“Okay, moving on, how did you even get Matt’s number?”
“Stole Aid’s phone. He still hasn’t deleted it.”
“That’s quite sweet, actually.”
“You girl, Liam. It’d have been easier if you’d kept it from when you told Matt to be a good boyfriend and cook Aiden dinner.”
“The plan, Lou?”
“We call Matt, get him in a room with Aiden. They fight, make up, make out, have sex. Problem: solved.”
“...That’s it?”
“Simple yet brilliant, I think you’ll all agree.”
“...No.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“We’ll text him from one of our phones. Tell him that Aiden’s a mopey mess, and that he needs to fix it.”
“Isn’t that a bit... too straightforward?”
“I was originally thinking of getting Harry to do a Blackpool accent, and declaring his undying love via voicemail. But the logistics didn’t add up.”
“Right. Who’s texting, then?”
--
It’s Thursday, and One Direction are in the Monell building, having just discussed a possible solo concert tour. Because none of them seemed to think Aiden could be left alone, he had been dragged along, and left to mope in one of the dance studios. Louis comes to see him after an hour.
“Grace wants you,” Louis tells Aiden. “She’s in the conference room, on the second floor. Chop chop.”
Aiden doesn’t move. “Why’s she up there? What does she want?”
Louis waves an impatient hand, beginning to chisel Aiden out of his seat. “I don’t know, go see! Her mind works in mysterious ways. I wouldn’t keep her waiting if I were you.”
Aiden sighs and slouches off.
--
The conference room light is on. Aiden can see it underneath the door. The entire corridor is deserted and Aiden has a strange feeling of being watched. He opens the door, curious in spite of himself.
“Grace?” he asks, scanning the massive room.
Then he spots Matt.
“Hey.”
Aiden backtracks, taking a few steps blindly. His shoulder collides painfully with the doorframe. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I didn’t know you were here.”
Matt stands up abruptly. His face is screwed up and he seems to be trying to frame a question.
“Why are you apologizing?” he asks finally.
Aiden pauses in the act of trying to open the door. “Because you obviously don’t want to talk to me - after, you know.”
“I don’t want to talk to you?” Matt’s eyebrows shoot up.
Aiden flushes and his hand slips sweat-slick against the doorknob. “You had to take me back to yours, and I was drunk - and you probably just felt sorry for me or something, and - and then I bothered you on the phone, and -”
Matt’s suddenly up in his personal space, one hand hovering over Aiden’s mouth like he wants to stop his words from escaping. “I didn’t have to take you back to mine. I wanted to.” Matt shakes his head. “You absolute pillock, Aid.”
Even in the throes of anguish Aiden rankles. “I’m a pillock? You did a runner!”
Matt actually laughs at this. Aiden briefly contemplates slapping him.
“I went to the shop.”
Aiden doesn’t move. “What?”
“The shop.” Matt says it slowly. “We were out of cigarettes.”
“Were we?” asks Aiden faintly.
“Yeah. And bread, and milk, and just about everything else.”
“You went to buy cigarettes, and bread and milk from the shop?”
Matt scratches his neck. “I was going to have a bash at breakfast, actually. You looked proper out of it, I thought you’d want food when you woke up.”
Aiden’s head is spinning. “You were going to make us breakfast?”
Matt just nods.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Aiden demands. “Leave a note? Text? Anything? I woke up and thought you’d left!”
“I thought you’d stick around if you woke up!”
Aiden starts laughing, because there is nothing else to do. Eventually Matt joins in, and they both stand there breathing each other’s air, shaking with laughs that become sobs and Aiden buries his face in Matt’s shoulder, stooping a bit because Matt is short. And Matt just holds him and whispers shh.
“I can’t believe it was that fucking simple,” Aiden says between sniffs, rubbing his eyes. “Jesus, what’s wrong with us?”
“I thought it was too good to be true.” Matt reaches out and straightens Aiden’s collar, fingers gentle against his neck. “You’re incredible, and famous, and so young. I thought it was insane that you wanted to hang out with me. So when I thought you’d left - I guess a part of me wasn’t that surprised.”
Aiden clears his throat. “I thought you’d had second thoughts. Thought I was too young, or too weird, or too much of a hassle.”
They’re close, and it’s intimate just speaking, stirring the air between them and smelling each other. Aiden still feels confused. He winds his hands uncertainly into the thick fabric of Matt’s jacket, and feels a warm curl of relief when Matt just covers them with his own.
“I saw you the first time.” Matt whispers it against Aiden’s skin. They’re so close Aiden can taste the words. “When you came to our gig with Treyc. You were wrapped up like a bloody Eskimo with those giant dorky glasses, and sat in the corner the whole time. And I remember thinking, Damn.”
Aiden blinks. “You have those glasses, too,” he responds lamely.
Matt just kisses him.
When they break apart, Matt’s got this fierce look in his eyes, and Aiden has a feeling he’s mirroring it. “I have never been so glad for your batshit crazy friends,” Matt tells him. “Seriously. I feel like I should send them flowers or something.”
Aiden laughs giddily, because this is just too ridiculous to be his life.
Matt kisses him again, and this time it’s in earnest, and his hand trails leisurely down Aiden’s side to mould against his hipbone. And even though Aiden still feels like this is all new and scary, a part of him recognizes how familiar it is, and that’s fucking wonderful.
“I am such an idiot,” Aiden mumbles as Matt presses his mouth to Aiden’s jaw.
“Yes you are,” Matt agrees. “We could’ve been doing this ages ago.” He starts working at the buttons of Aiden’s shirt.
“Oh, well,” Aiden laughs breathlessly, already fumbling with Matt’s belt. “I guess we have some catching up to do.”
Matt’s grin is all teeth and does funny things to Aiden’s heart. “I like the sound of that,” he says, hands sliding across Aiden’s skin, and Aiden thinks that this is better than he ever could have imagined. “I like it a lot.”
--
“You two are sickening,” Louis informs Aiden. One Direction are in his dressing room, watching make-up assistants flitting around him, adding last-minute touches. Aiden looks at them in the mirror, grinning hugely, having just finished texting Matt.
“Jealous, Lou?” he asks.
“Me? Jealous of you and your pervy older boyfriend sexting each other minutes before you go on stage?” Louis turns his nose up. “Maybe.”
“Get one of your boyfriends to sext you,” Aiden says. “Liam would probably be best. At least he’d use proper sentence structure and you’d be able to understand him.”
Liam shoots Aiden a look, flushing, and Aiden wonders again if there really is something going on - before reminding himself that he still doesn’t want to know.
Louis looks thoughtful. “You know, you’re right. Liam would definitely be the best sexter.”
“I’m flattered,” Liam says uncertainly.
Cathy pokes her head round the door, looking harassed. “Your ten-minute warning, Aiden,” she says before disappearing.
Aiden hops out of the chair and surveys his ostentatious make-up. His face is blotted out by white paint on one side, with sharp black designs around his one eye and his hair slicked back almost flat. He grins, and looks even scarier.
“How can girls find this appealing?” he asks nobody in particular.
“Who cares about the girls? It’s Matt you’re trying to impress, remember.” Harry slaps Aiden’s back. “And Matt would be impressed with you wearing a paper bag. I think it’s safe to say you’re getting lucky tonight.”
Aiden just grins and smoothes his hair down.
“Sickening,” Louis repeats, but his heart’s not in it. He’s still studying Liam thoughtfully.
“Do you ever think it’s bad?” Zayn asks absently from where he’s helping Niall choose a button-down shirt. “How completely invested we all are?”
Aiden looks at them - Louis edging closer to a worried-looking Liam, Niall and Zayn with their heads together over shirts, Harry wearing Niall’s jumper and lounging with his arm flung over Liam’s shoulder - and shrugs. “I think it’s working fine so far.”
There is a general murmur of agreement. Aiden feels his heart do a silly swelling thing in his chest and tried to stop grinning stupidly. He had to be intense on stage, after all, to pull off his creepy new single.
“Five minute warning!” an assistant yells. “You’re needed up here, Mr Grimshaw.”
“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Louis calls to Aiden.
Aiden grins, wild with adrenaline and excitement, because for the first time in his pop music career he feels like that’s exactly what he’ll do.
Fin.