Chapter Text
Mary couldn't tell when the last time her head hurt like this. She had barely woken up and already couldn't stand it. Trying to stretch, she realized she wasn't lying in bed alone. Immediately, panic gripped her. She opened her eyes and pulled herself up abruptly, which she immediately regretted because the headache became worse, and additionally, she felt nauseous.
"Everything okay?"
A wave of relief flooded her when she heard Matthew's sleepy voice. She couldn't remember how she'd ended up here, but at least she wasn't sleeping in some pathological den in an unfamiliar part of London with some stranger.
"How are you feeling?" He asked, stroking her leg, which she had draped over his waist. His gentle touch
"My head is about to explode" she complained, massaging her temples.
"You can't tell me you're surprised after all the drinking you did yesterday."
Of course, it was a hangover, of course. She was too old for such escapades.
"Don't play smart with me right now," she asked, putting her head back onto the pillow. She suspected she wouldn't lie down for long— the feeling of nausea only increased.
"I beg for forgiveness. Do you need anything?"
Instead of answering, she pulled herself up from the bed and, almost tripping over her own feet, rushed to the bathroom. At the last moment, she leaned over the toilet bowl. After a few minutes, her body stopped shaking with torpor. She settled straight into Matthew's arms, letting herself take pleasure in his gentle, soothing embrace. She thought she was going to die of embarrassment when she burped.
"I'm disgusting, sorry."
"Nothing to be sorry for. Are you still going to vomit?"
"I can't say no for sure."
"Do you want something to drink?"
When she nodded, he left her alone, and she embraced the toilet bowl.
Later she'll probably be furious with herself for showing off in front of him like that. Later when her skull doesn't want to explode, and she doesn't reek of vomit. After realizing she couldn't remember if she had washed off her make-up, she groaned. She must have constituted quite a sight.
She drank the water Matthew brought, threw up once more, and then Matthew carried her to the bed and laid down beside it. She couldn't remember how she had got here or why she had come, but she was glad to be here. Matthew's presence didn't heal her hangover but was a balm to her heart. Take away the headache, and she could spend mornings like this every day, with Matthew next to her, listening to his sleepy voice, snuggled tightly to him.
It did not take her long to fall asleep again. She woke up some time later and was displeased to discover that Matthew was no longer beside her. She crawled out from under the duvet and set off to find him. She found him in the kitchen, preparing tea.
"You want tea or coffee? I should have a beer or wine in the fridge as well."
He had the audacity to laugh at her warning gaze.
Waiting for tea to cool a little, she drank more water.
"I didn't just come to you from the pub, did I? What time was I here?"
She remembered far too little of the previous evening and didn't like it even a tiny bit.
"No, you only came in around 4 a.m. How much of yesterday do you remember?"
"We went with Charles, Evelyn, and a couple of other people..." she deliberately didn't mention Lavinia. She was furious when she ended up between Charles and Evelyn and Matthew sat next to Lavinia all night and it was her he was talking to. How it twisted her out of jealousy! She watched them almost constantly. When painful suspicions began to creep into her thoughts that Matthew might like Lavinia— which happened very early on— she decided to drown them in alcohol. Unfortunately, as it turned out, they could swim, the consequences of which she was about to suffer. "I drank a lot... I drank a lot..."
"You drank a lot," he confirmed with an annoying smirk.
"Mabel was supposed to pick up Charles and take me home on the way? I think?"
Matthew nodded.
"I personally put you in Mabel's car."
"She brought me here?"
"I have no idea how you got here."
Mary nodded thoughtfully.
" I think I was drinking something in her car, and we were talking a lot, but I don't remember what about... What did I say when I came here?"
"That you missed me very, very much when I was sitting at the other end of the table," he announced, with an expression of supreme self—satisfaction on his face. What an annoying man!
"I had to be really wasted to say such shit."
Matthew laughed at the comment. However, it wasn't his casual laugh she loved so much, and Mary felt herself getting faint, but not from a hangover. She was beginning to worry if she'd said something stupid yesterday. She had only twice in her life had been drunk to the point she couldn't remember the previous evening. She hated the feeling, even more so now that Matthew was involved. She hated she couldn't remember what they had talked about yesterday. Additionally, she had the strange feeling that she should know what she had talked about with Charles and Mabel on the way out of the pub. She was convinced her lips weren't closing. However, the words that fell out of them remained a mystery.
Telling Matthew that she wanted to talk to Mabel— she, a sober driver, would surely remember more than Charles, who had been drinking earlier— she went out onto the balcony. She didn't have Mabel's number, so she simply dialled Charles's- they lived together, so he would be able to put her on the phone. However, this was not necessary. Mabel answered the phone.
"Hello?"
"Hi, it's Mary."
"I don't think you left anything in my car. I can go check, but I'm sure you must be looking for your loss somewhere else."
"I didn't lose anything." Apart from mind and dignity. At least she thought so. "That's not why I'm calling."
"Ah. So what's up?"
"We talked a lot yesterday when you were taking me home, right?"
"It was more your monologue, but Charles and I somehow managed to interject a few sentences."
"Well, listening to an intelligent person from time to time certainly won't hurt you. What was the monologue about?"
"You don't remember?"
"I remember very, very little from somehow the end of the party."
At least she suspected it was around the end.
"Then I would like to remind you that you drank the bottle of wine I had in the back seat and promised to redeem it."
"I have a vague recollection of this," Mary admitted, "but if you don't tell me right away what I was speaking about on the way, forget about your wine."
"Jesus, someone here is desperate."
"I would simply like to know how I ended up where I ended up, so I'm picking up the pieces of the last night."
"Why, you woke up in some den?"
"Why, you left me in some den?"
"I beg your pardon. I walked you to your flat, helped you take off your shoes and bra, and kissed your forehead goodnight. I bear no responsibility for what happened to you afterward."
While Mary quite enjoyed herself during this exchange, she still wanted to learn something.
"What I was speaking about on the way?"
"You came out practically hung up on a guy I'd never seen before and looked at him with heart eyes I'd never seen before either." Mary squirmed at this description. "You looked like that emoticon with hearts instead of eyes, seriously."
"I see."
"He helped you into the car. When we set off, I asked who the cutie was.... And then you set off."
"More clearly, please?" Mary inquired, feeling an uncomfortable heat sweep over her. Drunk, she had no filter and was one hundred percent sure she had said more than she would have liked.
"You started telling us that you started sleeping with him for sport, but he's the greatest guy on the whole Earth and you fell in love. Charles and I told you to grab the bull by the horns and tell him about it, to which you started listing silly reasons why you couldn't and about your ex— boyfriends. That's it in a nutshell."
Mary hid her face in her hands. Great. Wonderful. She genuinely liked both Charles and Mabel, but not enough to externalize herself like that. She is never drinking again. Never, ever.
"Please tell me you don't know more than necessary about my sex life."
"The amount of information within reason and good taste, nothing disgusting or exaggerated. Don't worry, you haven't drifted off that much."
"Everything okay?" Mary's heart nearly jumped out of her chest when Matthew looked out onto the balcony.
She nodded, forcing a smile. He smiled back and went inside.
"Who do you have here? This cutie of yours?"
She nodded again, only after a moment realizing Mabel wasn't able to see it.
"Yes. Matthew."
"Have you listened to us and told him?"
"Goodness, I hope no."
She was overwhelmed by a hard— to— control temptation to jump off the balcony. Matthew didn't live high up, but perhaps enough for her to crack her head open.
"Do you have any reason why you don't want to tell him? Apart from the silly excuses you had yesterday."
"I think we have already established I don't remember what I said."
"That he definitely doesn't love you, that you're not his type, that you've only been with morons before..."
"These are my very good reasons."
"These are shit."
Mary was momentarily overcome with irritation.
"Don't act like you have the entire picture."
"Listen, you'll do as you please, but avoiding an honest conversation won't get you anywhere. Maybe something will come out of it. I speak from experience. He was looking at you with heart eyes as big as you were looking at him."
Mary ignored her heart's flip at the last sentence.
"Thank you for your opinion, it will not be taken into consideration. Bye."
Mabel managed to shout about redeeming the wine before Mary disconnected. She didn't give a hoot about Mabel's wine right now.
She knelt, leaning her back against the wall. She tried desperately to remember getting to Matthew's flat and what she had said, other than that she missed him, but there was only a black hole in her head. She wanted to howl. She certainly couldn't rule out confessing her love for him. She had done all sorts of stupid things after alcohol and said too much to people she shouldn't have.
It made her feel sick again. She tried to stifle the feeling by breathing deeply, but it didn't help much. She ran to the bathroom. As before, Matthew was quickly next to her. Hearing his worried voice and feeling his hands gathering her hair back, she barely stopped herself from bursting into tears. She wanted nothing more than for Matthew to love her back, to care about her in this way. She remembered Mabel's words before the conversation ended. That it could work out. That Matthew looked at her the way she looked at him. Immediately, however, she rebuked herself for this hopeless hope. She had to be realistic. Mabel didn't know shit. A treacherous voice in her head reminded her that Anna had said similar things and knew a lot more.
Mary closed her eyes and almost lay down on the floor, resting her forehead against the cold tiles. She concentrated on her breathing. She needed to compose herself, at that moment. Over the years, she had mastered controlling her emotions to perfection, she would not fall apart now. She might not say anything to him. She'd begged every possible force in the universe not to tell him anything, and things could go on as before. If she made that mistake... Matthew will probably say in the gentlest possible way that he does not reciprocate her feelings. She will have to accept it with calmness and dignity. They'll say goodbye, Mary will go back to her place, and there she'll fall to pieces. She had no idea how she would manage to work with him afterward, but she will face it.
With Matthew's help, she got up.
"I don't think I want to know what Mabel told you since it caused such a reaction."
"She calls you a cutie."
"You disagree?" He raised his eyebrows.
She agreed with every fiber of her being.
"Everyone has their own taste, I'm not judging."
She wasn't the best company that day, but Matthew didn't seem to mind. They lay down on the bed in the bedroom and didn't even talk. At first, she was happy with this, but her mind soon began to work at too intense a speed. She felt that Matthew was not completely relaxed. He was tense. Barely, barely, but he was a person from whom it was easy to read emotions most of the time. For Mary, who really got to know him— or so she liked to think— it came with even greater ease.
She told him. She had to tell him. And he is too good person to kick her hangover, pathetic ass out. She destroyed everything.
It would be best if they explained everything to each other now— although she didn't have the slightest desire to hear Matthew claim that she was a great woman, but he would never love her— and Mary to go back to her flat.
After coming to this conclusion, she took a few minutes to mouth off: "About last night..."
About last night what? I'm sorry I confessed my love to you; I understand you don't feel the same way about me; you don't need to apologize; it's all fine; bye; see you?
"Did you remember what we talked about yesterday?"
"I have my suspicions."
"So what do you suspect?"
Matthew didn't sound like he was joking and teasing her; he sounded serious which, for some reason she didn't understand, only annoyed her. It shouldn't have annoyed her. It was good that he wasn't making fun of her stupid feelings. It was obvious that it would not be a funny subject for him. Seriousness was good. Certainly better than some sympathy or pity, which she fortunately didn't read from him.
"I... I might have said..." She took a deep breath. Out with it! "I might have said I love you?" It was not meant to be a question, but it came out as it did.
"You said you loved me," he confirmed her worst fears. She closed her eyes. She wanted to teleport to her flat. "Did you mean it?"
She was overwhelmed with the urge to lie that she was only joking, she didn't know what had possessed her and to propose they forget everything, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She couldn't treat Matthew this way; Matthew, with whom she felt so wonderful and had such a great time.
"I told you once I never lie when I'm drunk," she answered evasively.
She'd felt Matthew's intense gaze on her since she started the subject but hadn't been able to look back at him. Now, she was beginning to suffocate under it. The fact that they were lying in the same bed didn't help. She ran her eyes across the room and noticed her clothes lying on the chair. She didn't think she had ever left the bed faster in her life.
"I will get dressed," she took her clothes out of the chair, "and I will go."
She ignored him calling her name as she went to the bathroom. She just wanted to get out of there.
"Mary, don't you think we should talk about it?"
"No, not really."
Bra, where was her bra? She recalled Mabel saying she had helped her take off her shoes and bra. Apparently, before leaving the house again, she decided the bra was not necessary.
"Well, I think differently."
She sighed heavily, putting on her blouse. Of course, he had a different opinion.
"We don't have to talk about it," she said firmly. "I appreciate that you want to end this in some nice way, but really, you don't have to."
"Excuse me, what?"
"I know you don't love me, but I understand. You don't have to explain it or make it clear that we can't continue our arrangement. I understand everything, it's all right."
Her eyes were full of tears, and she did not know how her voice did not break down. The silence that followed these words certainly wasn't helping her self-control, too long silence.
"Can you open the door?"
"It depends. Will you let me out?"
He hesitated a moment before answering.
"I will let you out."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure."
She wiped the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse and opened the door. She barely crossed the threshold of the bathroom well when Matthew caught her face in his hands and kissed her. It was a very, very good kiss. One of their best. Top five, definitely. They only pulled away from each other when they had to catch their breath. Mary felt that if she didn't hold tightly to Matthew, her knees would refuse to obey, and she wouldn't be able to stand on her own.
"I love you too," he said straight into her lips.
"What?" She was convinced she had overheard. She felt like smacking him when he laughed lightly.
"I love you too." He gently brushed his lips against hers.
"You love me?" she repeated stupidly, unable to process this information.
He frowned.
"You really are so surprised by this?'
"Yes!" She saw in his face he didn't understand where she was coming from. "I was a bitch for you for such a long time! I'm not your type!" She searched for the right words for a long moment, and when she couldn't find any, she used something closest to what she had in mind.
"Oh? So what's my type?"
"I am supposed to tell you this?"
"Since you know so well!"
She sighed.
"I don't know, I just see you in a real relationship with someone more like you! With someone sweet and kind to everyone and too good for this world, not a bitch like me!"
"First of all, no matter how flattered I am that you think I'm sweet and too good for this world, I think you're exaggerating a bit..."
"I most probably do." He laughed when she immediately agreed. "You can be annoying. And frustrating. And stupid."
"See, much better. Secondly— you can be a bitch, but you're not a bitch. You have your nice side."
She couldn't help rolling her eyes.
"Except Sybil, you're the only person who thinks so."
"Because I've managed to get to know a little bit of the real you that you so insistently try to protect." The tenderness with which he looked at her was downright overwhelming. "And I wouldn't want to be with a female version of myself. It's good that we're different, at least we're not in danger of boredom."
"You can get bored of arguments and discussions too. We are both stubborn," she remarked.
"Nobody can avoid arguments and discussions." He tucked her hair behind her ears, and a silly grin appeared on his face. "You didn't want to tell me you loved me because you thought I'd rather be with someone more similar to me?"
"I do know what it sounds like..." She started to defend herself, but then she realized something. "When were you planning on telling me you love me?"
Pretending to wonder about it, he raised his eyes upwards.
"I thought it would be best to do it... never."
"I knew it!" She cherished the small victory. "Why?"
"All you wanted from me was sex and suspecting that you would most likely run away after such a confession, I didn't want to take any chances. I preferred to be with you on some limited level than not at all."
She nodded her head as a sign that she understood what he meant. She knew she didn't need to say she felt the same way.
"Do you see how good it is that I got drunk?"
"I see," he agreed. The shadow of a smile still wandered across his face, but he had grown serious. "What are we going to do about it?"
"What do you want to do about it?"
"I want to be with you," he said simply. "I love you, and I want to truly be with you. You mentioned something yesterday about going on silly dates and holding hands, so we can start to try that. As long as those particular words weren't just said because of alcohol."
"I could have thought about it a bit when I was sober," she confessed and licked her lips. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"
"I don't see what could be wrong with a relationship between two people who love each other."
"Love alone may not be enough," she pointed out.
"Love alone is never enough. Every relationship needs work, and I am ready for it. " For a moment, they were both silent. "What are you so scared of?"
"I don't know," she admitted, feeling fresh tears in her eyes. "It's not like I don't want to be with you, or I don't feel ready, but... I don't want to get sick of me with time..."
"There's no chance of this."
"You say so now."
"And you assume the worst scenario right off the bat. Why?"
"Stop asking questions to which my only answer is 'I don't know'. It's frustrating."
"Just say we at least gonna try. Maybe you will get sick of me first."
"I doubt that."
"We don't know for sure, and we won't find out unless we try. Besides, I'd rather try and fail than wonder 'what if'. What you say?"
Mary was torn. Her own feelings for Matthew terrified her; and the knowledge that he felt the same, though incredible, terrified her even more. How could he even love her? How would she be able not to scare him away over time?
However, he seemed to genuinely believe that they were capable of building something real. And he sounded convincing, she had to give him that.
She let most men out of her life without regret and pondering what might have been different if she had let them stay, but she felt Matthew would be an exception to the rule as he was in several other cases.
"Okay."
" 'Okay' what?"
"Let's try. I want to be with you, and I prefer to try and fail than regret not giving us a real shot."
Matthew's smile could light up London after dark, and Mary couldn't not smile back seconds before Matthew joined their lips.
"There's one thing missing tho."
"What's it?"
"You still didn't say it sober."
She kissed him gently, feeling happy as never before.
"I love you."