Chapter Text
"Would you stop? And delete these last five minutes too... no seriously... fuckin'... film all the shows ye want, pre-gig cocktails, stupid random banter, gettin' yer hair cut or watchin' street performers whatever but if ye spend one more second shoving that camera in me face while I'm tryna chill out I'll-"
"You'll what?" Matt interrupts swiftly, his grin cheeky like he knows he's not really in trouble with his friend.
"I'll phone up Mrs. Jill Helders herself and tell 'er exactly 'how much bloody hair gel her wayward son is using," he calls triumphantly, smiling lazily over at Nick who burst out laughing at the threat.
"Ah, young Al, there'll come a time when you're using too much of the stuff yourself!" He smirks and Alex can't help a snort.
"Don't refer to me as 'young', I'm older than you! Besides you won't catch me slicking my hair back-" Matt cuts him off with a smirk, "ooooh no you're far too fond of your hair to be smotherin' it like that," he snarks but his smile is fond and he ruffles Alex's long locks softly.
"Ooooh I'd not cross our princess if I were you Matt, the threat of your mum is formidable enough," Nick offers through a laugh and even Alex, grumpy though he's trying to remain, can't help but crack a soft smile.
Matt shoots him a smirk and Alex, with his hand shielding his eyes from blazing sun, watches his friend shut down the camera and immediately plonk himself down beside him, getting comfy so he too can share a moment of peace in the sun. There's relative silence for a few minutes and so Alex pushes his hair aside casually, tilts his face to the sun and shuts his eyes once more. The peace doesn't last long.
"So... are you gonna tell me why you're so moody? Or pretending to be?" Matt queries softly and Alex can feel eyes on him.
He exhales. By the time he's inhaled again and is halfway through the next steady exhale the gaze on his face feels like it's burning but he's managed put together enough words to form a sentence so he opens his eyes, squints a little and then voices a cautious, "m'not moody... not really, just... struggling to find space to think." It's carefully phrased of course and he trusts Matt will pick up on which word is key.
"Space?" His friend queries and Alex smiles a little for Matt's got it right again.
"Mmmh yeh, well..." he clears his throat, "well, there's... time in abundance but rarely enough... space..." he catches himself sounding cryptic and before he knows it he's backtracking, eyes fully open and sitting up properly too so that he can face Matt as he begins talking again, stretching slowly, sentences coming out at a languid pace to match the low volume. "Mind you, perhaps I'm just' feelin' stifled more physically, s' hot, tha's all, jus'... always warm, even sleeping is... stickeh... yknow?" Luckily Matt also knows when to stop questioning and automatically he groans in understanding.
"God why d'you think I cut all me hair off eh?"
"Ehh, it looks good Matthew, I dunno if I said so... but it does." He murmurs and he feels more than hears Matt smile his thanks.
The conversation stays forgotten until perhaps a full week later when they're on another plane, this time homeward bound, when Alex is sat beside Matt and grumbling half heartedly about how he never does get any sleep on flights.
"You look knackered," Matt informs as though he wasn't already aware. He wants to sigh or maybe glare at his friend but Matt's speaking again before he really gets a moment to think it through. "Y'know, I spoke with me mum last night, she said there's plans for a surprise party for ye, on your birthday." Alex gets a feeling he's broaching this subject delicately.
"Well it's hardly a surprise now is it?" He murmurs as though either of them cares. Matt does smile and then apologise but there's a glint in his gaze that suggests all is not completely revealed. Alex just lets him continue, far too tired to bother interrupting.
"Figured you've been getting even less sleep than the rest of us," is what he says next and there's always been a beauty to the way he and Matt communicate. There's that method of subtle twisting and turning like Matt knows he's got to keep Alex interested by avoiding talking straight, he loops his way around to make his point while still managing to only spout sentences of relevance. It's a rare talent and one Alex can always appreciate.
"We're all tired, Matt," he supplies, recognising that it's his turn to speak, another tactic of Matt's no doubt, employed to keep him on his feet. "Got in about sunrise last night and I were hardly the last back," he smirks as Matt tells him what he told the camera earlier that morning; that he "slept like a glove", in Alex's bed though, something he hadn't divulged to the masses it something of a necessity when he'd been so unwilling to find his way down the hallway to his own room.
"Aye," Matt continues with a yawn, "but specifically I'm on about yer... thinkin' space... or lack thereof... figured there's sometimg can help... someone." Alex does sigh then but not because he's annoyed, simply because he knows the antidote to this particular poison, has known for a solid two weeks and has been taunted by how unreachable that cure-all was. A phone call helped, texts, a few photos sent to cheer him up or share some funny tour moment but it was the presence of the person, the physical proximity that had him calmed, that allowed him to speak freely - if somewhat stilted - those words at the far reaches of his mind that clogged up invisible "thinking space" and kept him darker and moody where his friends were concerned.
Matt seems fond of keeping his proclamations ambiguous though, doesn't elaborate at all but continues all the same. Perhaps he was looking for a reaction rather than any verbal confirmation but it seems he's got what he needed for he smiles at Alex again and then rearranges his features to form something a little more serious. He even clears his throat.
"Anyways, thought I'd... dissuade them from the party fandango eh?" He offers but still there an edge to his voice that gives off a vibe of uncertainty. Alex hesitates, rubs at his eye and stifles a yawn unsuccessfully. "Nah sod that actually, I'm definitely dissuading them, you'll 'ave more fun at a party after you've 'ad some sleep." He takes on a rarer tone, one that always makes Alex feel like some day he'll be a brilliant parent. It's a tone echoed in the lines on his brow and the concern in his eyes. Alex looks away, bites his lip, thinking.
*please, for the safety of all passengers, fasten seat belts and ensure seats are in the upright position for take off, thank you.*
His gaze unwittingly tracks itself to the side, seeking out the two other familiar faces across the aisle. It's rare these days that they all catch the same flight home, usually it's a split between the North and London or some other variant. It's partly for his sake this time, the end of the Australian leg of tour, just a week that ended 2009 and began 2010 and they're all heading back to Sheffield for his birthday. It's only a week until they're off again, more of the tour and then some studio time in the states that everyone's looking forward to. There's an excitement surrounding the four, buzzing excitement, electricity sparking between them. They've got ideas, they've got some not quite explainable darker, moody quality to their freshest material and they're all eager to get it down, to let it spread itself into every corner it likes and swell into something new. For now though they're eking out a stay with their families, having had to cut the Christmas one short. Before Alex can answer Matt properly he's got his mind drifting again, the vision of an already dozing Jamie Cook enough to have him wondering. He's not surprised his mind is so crowded of late, what with Christmas and the tour it's really been much too long.
"Maybe suggest 'aving the party on the Saturday... it'll errr be nice to see everyone but it'll give us all a chance to unwind and get some sleep tha knows?" Matt beams at him, apparently his solution was ideal for he says no more on the matter, simply informs Alex that he's got to remember to act surprised and then Alex catches that glint again. He doesn't ask though, and Matt certainly doesn't tell.
"Apparently there's a load of snow in the uk, London's something of a mess, trains are... struggling," Matt offers conversationally and Alex recognises the bait, it's a long flight and he knows he'll fall asleep eventually but it seems Matt is intent on keeping him distracted for as long as he can.
"Gonna be a system shock after this last week," Alex adds and shivers reflexively. The pair of them never have struggled for light topics of conversation, there's always been football or bands to talk about, past experiences distant and recent, the weather near or far. It takes Alex less time than he's given himself credit for to fall asleep, hair slipping across his face as he lets himself drift into clouded thoughts. He does wake during the flight and each time he does Matt is asleep beside him so he focusses his waning energy on pushing thoughts aside, ready to pen down or offload vocally in breathless mumbles, he types a few into a text message box beside Miles' name but can't send them for the lack of phone signal. He wakes for the last time just before the announcement of their descent and Matt is stretching into consciousness beside him, asking him if he managed to sleep and then smiling at the affirmation and downing half a bottle of water in one go.
When they actually leave the plane Alex is brought sharply to the realisation that it really is cold in the U.K. And dark too. He was expecting both of course but the darkness is inky and the cold biting and he shivers as the four of them stand bleary eyes at the arrivals gate and wait for a taxi.
"You're coming to mine," he hears from beside him close enough that he can feel body heat warming his slight frame. He just smiles gratefully, not bothering to process properly or vocalise his response and there's certainly no need for the token protest where Matt is concerned. After all it's three AM, he's exhausted and Matt's is closer anyway.
There's little to remember of a sleepy taxi ride and confused half wakefulness culminating in a stumbling through the door laden with luggage. Of course as soon as he's in bed in Matt's spare room, blank walls and white sheets he struggles to clear his mind properly for sleep but sleep does come, forced by way of sheer exhaustion and the first comfortable night since they left Sheffield. Matt's sheets smell like home and the window, open just a crack, lets in freezing cold fresh air. It's beyond welcome after the seemingly endless days of sticky heat that stifle sleeping. He's dead tired, weighed down by weary limbs and a crowded mind and in the cool comfort he's asleep in minutes.