moments that didn't last forever.

[matty olson]

<sup>he was not excited to see felice.

alright, so that was a big fat fucking lie, but he wasn't excited in the way that he should have been. as he checked himself over in the mirror before leaving the bathroom of the apartment he'd just recently leased (closer to brooklyn where he was going to start recording his ep and with out the company of his sister) he noted that he looked tired; anxious, but he rested easy knowing there was very little he could do about either of these things. he casually checked the time, wishing it would speed up but also slow down. according to his mark, felice and her flight had landed over two hours ago and she should have been there by now. a thousand thoughts were racing through his mind. what if she hadn't gotten on the plane at all? what if she was still in europe- and not so close to him, where he could grasp her and hold her and make sure that she never left again. he knew there was no reason to fear. he'd asked her to text him before and after she got off the plane, and she'd done just that. there was no reason not to trust her <i>unless she was lying.</i>

he quickly shook those thoughts out of his mind because he didn't want to start it off like this. he'd been genuinely trying to work on his trust issues for the past few months, but it'd been something much easier said than done and he found this deeply engrained lack of trust to be something much harder to change than he'd ever anticipated. walking to the kitchen, he searched for something to calm his nerves. pouring himself a cool and clear, burning double shot of vodka, he downed one and winced at the taste. a few seconds later, another. the effect wasn't instant, but he wished that it was. really, what the fuck did he think he was doing? his plan had started off simple enough: just convince felice to come home. tell her whatever she wanted to hear, whatever she needed to hear, whatever needed to be said just to achieve that one goal- but now that he had achieved it, he'd never really thought about how to handle the second part. the thought of looking at her terrified him. fumbling for his cell phone, he quickly text felice to let her know he'd be on the back porch if he arrived.

walking outside into the nights sky, he lit a cigarette that he didn't enjoy or want- but it gave him something to do and something else to focus his already hyperactive attention span on. "seriously, matt. what the <i>fuck.</i>?" he stated to himself before shaking his head, then letting it fall into his hands. what was he supposed to do here- what was the right thing to do? to just forget it all, abandon his pride and every set of morals he'd ever attained for a girl who'd done very little for his regard? he was pretty sure the answer was no, but at this point he didn't see any other option. the question was, just how far was he supposed to bend for felice before he simply broke in two? his heart raced as he heard a noise- unmistakably the sound of his front door opening, and then the click of heels across his floor. he didn't bother to get up- and he didn't look in her direction when he footsteps got close enough behind him for him to feel, rather than hear. "hey." he said blandly, doing everything he could to prolong her view from his eyes, and taking a lung-filling drag of his cigarette.</sup>

[/color][/font][/i][/size] lexa.
wardrobe,[/i][/size] nom.
music,[/i][/size] ehh nothing good.
notes,[/i][/size] blahh melissa fomat yeah! [/ul]
[/sup][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[felice dorsé]

-------- A wrath of different emotions overcame felice during the seven and a half hour plane ride from amsterdam to new york. throughout her past months spend in the dutch land, she had promised herself to never go back to new york again. the way she thought of it, she had everything she needed with her- even people. and the people she didn’t have with her, she knew well enough she could keep enough contact to make it seem as though they were still a part of her life. matty was the exception, as he had made it clear he did not want to be a part of her life much longer. though something in her forced her to believe otherwise. there was a whole lot of confidence in the petite blonde, but when it came to guys, she typically lacked that confidence. she could always come up with a million pessimistic views on the male race when speaking in terms of herself. they wouldn’t like her for this reason, wouldn’t be attracted for that reason, would get sick of her because of this and that and the list went on. but with matty, it had been different. while she did truly feel like she wasn’t good enough for him, she also didn’t think he felt that way. and it gave her a form of incentive.

-------- THE incentive was not to quit her job, which she was sure he wanted more than anything. and this drove her crazy for a good remainder of the flight to the states. she could easily lie and tell him she was done with it, but she was done with the lies, and the motive here was to get every little truth on the table. but she didn’t know how she was supposed to tell him- and after the anxiety, nervousness, and generally uneasy feeling that became her as she tried to figure out how, she knew she had to just play it by ear, and see what came to her in that moment. anyway, for all she knew, he was about to tell her how much he hated her and that she needed to stop trying to contact him. the incentive here was to prove something to him. felice wanted more than anything to show him that she was still the girl he had met on the train, and that she was someone he very much liked, before he very much hated. for a brief moment, she too found herself questioning the incentive. for as far back as she could remember, she had it embedded in her own head that she was not a nice girl, that she had no feelings, and that nothing could hurt her. how could that be true when she’d spent the past month devastated over a boy she had only known three weeks? not even she was sure.

-------- AS she walked the cobblestone walk way up to his door, she still didn’t know what she was going to say, or how she could possibly act. while she wanted nothing but to get lost in his arms and never let go, she knew very well that was not what this meeting had in store, at least not yet. abiding by his text, she walked right in, and placed her bags in the foyer- stalling there for a moment, she did her best to compose herself. strategic breathing being her only saving grace. breathing in for four seconds, holding it for four seconds, and exhaling for four seconds. over and over again until her finger tips weren’t furiously shaking. slow steps traced toward the light in the back, and she let out one last breath before he spoke. her fingers gently stroked his shoulder as she walked past him, and took a seat next to him. “ hi..” she responded quietly, crossing one leg over the other as he leaned comfortably in her chair. her fingers instinctively playing with the ends of her hair, as if to calm her nerves. “your house is pretty,” she awkward spat out, before realizing the only thing she’d seen was the barely lit living room, and an even darker porch.

---

--------OUTFIT you knowww.
--------NOTES awkward <3

[matty olson]

<sup>she. was. beautiful.

i mean, it truly just wasn't fair- not natural or right how absolutely stunning to him she was in that moment with her hair in her face and looking like the last thing she needed was this- any of this at the moment, just he probably didn't either. she played with her hair, she seemed aloof, and he wondered if he was imagining the tension in his air. not so much a tension- a deep and utter sadness that perhaps, was so thick inside matty's own chest, that it had escaped and radiated into the air around them. he wondered how many other men had thought felice was beautiful. he wondered why he always did this to himself. there were a thousand things he could have offered to her in that moment. a drink, to quench her thirst. he could cook if she was hungry but the thought of food made him want to throw up. he could have offered her a bed to rest her eyes, a bath- some comfortable clothes. he could have offered her his heart on a plate his to give and hers to take.

he could have done a lot of things.

instead he just smoked his cigarette, taking deep needy drags from the filter that pressed against his lips. he could remember when felice was pressed against his lips- she pushed up against a wall in a dark alley between two streets in amsterdarm. they were both drunk and she was endlessly fascinating and something she'd never known before. she'd triggered something inside of him he'd never known existed. lovestruck- or something like it, he wasn't one to go so foolishly into such things, but it was only what he could assume. the poets did say, after all- that you could only hurt so terribly as matty was hurting, if you were in love.

he was painfully still which was extremely unusual for matty. matt, who could never sit still for even a moment, a second- never occupy a seat with out tapping his feet against the ground, drumming his fingers against the arm, until eventually just getting up. it was so quiet he could hear every panicked breath of his- and of felices. her touch made him shiver. he closed his eyes and leaned back because he didn't know what else to do. literally- what the fuck was he supposed to do? he didn't say thank you to her compliment because it didn't really matter. petty conversation, a filler between the dead air because she- like him, didn't know what else to do. matty was positive felice was sorry for her actions- he was sorry she was sorry, and it was all just a sorry fucking mess. but maybe some things weren't meant to be fixed.

he took a final breath before throwing his cigarette to the ground. he missed the distraction instantly but knew that it had to be done. when he spoke, he sounded ridiculous and was surprised she didn't laugh at him. "you're pretty." it was a simple statement and it wasn't meant to be taken for more than it was worth. matty wasn't there to fight. he didn't know what he was there for.</sup>

[/color][/font][/i][/size] lexa.
wardrobe,[/i][/size] nom.
music,[/i][/size] ehh nothing good.
notes,[/i][/size] blahh melissa fomat yeah! [/ul]
[/sup][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[felice dorsé]

-------- AS each moment passed, the silence between the two grew stronger and stronger. it was a foreign feeling, one she had formed no notion of just yet. the sound of the crickets off somewhere in the yard seemed like the loudest noise in the world. a noise that put her at edge, as if the silence was all that was bearable at this moment in time. as it was said that silence spoke louder than words, she wasn’t quite sure this silence was about to heal the wounds between them. from day one, felice had admired matty partially due to his slightly obnoxious ways. he was loud, always said what he wanted, and there was never a dull moment. in fact, she was positive that she could listen to him talk for days straight, and not get tired of listening to the things he had to say. but now, she found comfort in the silence- for it was better than the things he’d had to say to her before he left that played through her mind night after night. she was a liar, she betrayed him, and as she thought back to him telling her those things, she could feel the pain make its way back to the pit of her stomach.


-------- IN a pitiful attempt to make sure the nervousness she felt in her stomach wasn’t written all over her face, she quickly began searching her purse for her cell phone. fingers fiddled over the screen, skimming down her list of contacts- and while there were a hundred of them, there was literally not a single person she could imagine caring at the moment. she had cut ties with practically every single one of her friends when she had made the move from france to the united states, and as soon as the davilia’s found out about her newfound profession, they were cut too. as much as she wished she didn’t sound like the biggest damsel in distress, the only person she had was matty. the boy sitting right in front of her, the only one that had even remotely stuck by her through her most recent actions, and she couldn’t even come up with the words to say to him- even though she knew he deserved that, at the very least. slamming her phone down on the table, she let out a heavy sigh, all coming out more dramatic than she had anticipated. but the sigh meant all too much; for starters, she absolutely hated the epiphanic realization that matty was close to all she had, secondly, she was not prepared to come terms with said realization.


-------- EYES widened as he broke the silence, and she could feel her eyes well up with tears. how could that even happen? when her father died, she’d shed probably three tears, and now this boy in which she’d known for three months was calling her pretty, she wanted to cry. and while they were probably a joyous set of tears, she held them in before they became anything else, anything even slightly noticeable to him. and not only did she not want him to notice the tears, but the complete and utter vulnerability she felt with him. “i came here to talk, matty. this was stupid if i just wasted money to come and sit here, and stare at the woods,” she told him shortly after she’d ignored his compliment- without realizing just how rude it came out. “don’t get me wrong, i would love to just sit with you. but don’t you think talking right now is a good idea? so i can either completely get out of your life, or find some manageable way to stay in it?” the latter being what she so badly wanted.

---

--------OUTFIT you knowww.
--------NOTES twenty-seven weeks later!

[matty olson]

<sup>he shook his head in silence when she brought out her phone. while he was a relatively carefree individual, there were a select amount of things in the world that caused him great room for annoyance; and one of them was text messaging. it wasn't so much the act in general as it was the fact that she was doing it there, in that moment- one he considered pivotal to lay out the next chapter in his life and instead of appreciating it in the same way he did, she was checking her facebook comments. or texting her other boyfriend. or peeping out chat roulette while he was sitting right next to her looking (and acting) like a total fucking idiot. he could do very little, other than gaze at her in a state of disbelief that was pretty much impossible to see in the darkness that surrounded them. when she spoke, he was even more turned off- if that was at all possible. "i told you i'd comp your flight," he stated to her in a voice full of aggravation. as soon as the words left his lips she spoke again, only this time he didn't respond because much like before, he was left without words to say. he'd rehearsed this moment so many times in his head over and over again because he wanted it to be perfect- just like she was perfect and just like he tried to be perfect for her, but he came up with nothing.

matty found himself in quite the state if disarray. in retrospect, for a developmentally stunted twenty-one year old matty was on the right track. he knew what he wanted in life, knew the steps he needed to take to get there, and had all the connections to make it as easy as possible for him. for what he made up for in professional savvy, he lacked everything that he truly wanted, which seemed to be the direction his life generally went. and what he wanted? well, that was felice at it's base, but at the core matty just had a deep primal need to be loved, and love in return-- and to do so with out fear that the love he put forth so feverently would not be taken into ill hands. he was now on his third girlfriend in a row that had cheated on him (felice did count in this rap sheet, despite technicalities) and he'd sort of numbed himself off to the idea of women for the time being. mostly because he was starting to hate them, and as a poet and a romantic he felt that was quite contradictory to the image he was trying to present.

but he did want felice-- that was not to be mistaken. perhaps he wanted her more terribly than he'd ever wanted anything in his life prior- but he wasn't about to have her at the expense of loosing himself, and that's what he felt like he was doing. he was looking at her with eyes of desperation because he didn't know the answers. he realized soon after the fact that she didn't know the answers either. if she did she surely would have shared them with him long ago. he reached his hand out, placing it on her knee because he'd forgotten what she felt like and needed to be reminded. the feeling he found was most wonderful. she was warm, and soft, and far better than he could ever attempt to be. the distance between them was still there, and he couldn't help but think; was this really what it had come down to? "well--" he started, choosing to humor his way out of the situation he'd found himself in. "if you want to put it like that, then i guess we can just sit here." mostly because as long as they say there in their undefined state- they were just that. he could handle undefined. he could handle the unknown. what he couldn't handle was loosing felice. he wasn't so sure if he could handle having her, either.</sup>

[/color][/font][/i][/size] lexa.
wardrobe,[/i][/size] nom.
music,[/i][/size] ehh nothing good.
notes,[/i][/size] blahh melissa fomat yeah! [/ul]
[/sup][/blockquote][/blockquote]