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It was only a matter of time, Matty thinks as he has Taylor pinned against the wall of his monastic cell (that's what she called it once anyway).
How long has it been since the last time? It feels like years, it feels like days. Long enough for him to forget why they broke up in the first place. Some things just don’t seem as big or important after a certain passage of time. Not as important as being able to kiss her and hold her again. She tastes and feels familiar, and he can barely remember what he was doing while they were apart.
It’s dark outside and in his house, and they move through the space blind, laughing as they go. When they fall onto the bed, Matty feels like a cloud, drifting through the sky.
*
It doesn’t last. He should’ve known that, too.
It’s too much.
But everything else is not enough.
*
"I had a dream you were dead."
Matty sits up and leans against the headboard, trying to wake up. It’s still dark. They haven’t talked in months.
"What did I die from?"
"I don’t know. It was a funeral."
"And how many people were in attendance?"
"Matty."
"What?"
"It was a damn dream."
"Exactly."
He can hear Taylor sigh and thinks she might hang up now, so he asks, "Where are you?"
"London. I have a show here in a couple of days."
"Wanna meet?"
"In London?"
"No. I know a place."
*
They don’t kiss when they meet, but they hold each other for some time before letting go and getting into Matty’s car.
"Your girlfriend won’t miss you?" Taylor asks.
"She’s not in town."
"Lucky me."
*
"So, why here?"
They're sitting in the outdoor area of a rural pub, drinking beers. It’s summer, and the days are long. Taylor is in a wig, without make-up, and her eyes are a different colour.
"It’s where I met you. Where I first heard your song."
It was playing on the radio, and Matty is not quite sure what it was — the song or her voice (maybe both) — that caught his attention, but the feeling stayed with him. It was a long time before he found out who she was.
They watch the sun set in silence.
*
When they get back into the car, Matty can feel the tension in the air. He doesn’t know what to do with it. He wants to talk to her, really talk to her, but where would he even start?
"Do you love him?"
Taylor looks at him, surprised.
"Whom?"
"Your boyfriend."
She looks down, frowning.
"I’m not sure."
He knows what she means. He’s not sure what love is either.
She watches him the whole drive back.
*
"Are you single yet?"
Matty laughs.
"This is what you have to say on my birthday?"
He’s having his first smoke of the day when Taylor calls.
"Feel old?"
"Not a chance."
*
They bump into each other (literally) in the studio in New York as he’s leaving. Matty’s heard the news, but here’s his confirmation, right on her finger. Taylor is engaged.
He decides not to comment, puts on a smile as they say hi in the corridor and leaves the building without looking back.
*
They get married within a month of each other.
They don’t talk for years after that.
*
Marriage and children don’t fix him, but they fend off the loneliness all the same. His new family fits neatly into his world, and Matty feels normal for a change. Maybe that’s enough.
At night, he writes and thinks about her.
*
It’s the year of the tenth anniversary of "Being Funny" when he gets a call from Jack.
"Taylor wants to put your song on the ‘Midnights’ anniversary edition."
"Why?"
"Feeling nostalgic?"
It’s a weak argument, but Matty takes it as his chance. It’s been so long, but he still has dreams about her that he wakes up from, feeling completely out of it. He has a family. He’s happy. He shouldn’t need her anymore. Maybe seeing her now would help to put the rose-tinted memory of her out of his mind.
*
He’s an idiot.
He should’ve said no.
Instead, Matty travels all the way to New York to see her, and when Taylor hugs him in greeting in the studio, he wonders if he lived at all all those years.
She hasn’t changed a bit, and it feels like they’re back to where they were when they were working on that "Midnights" song. They don’t talk about the years-long silence and whatever they were before. They act like old friends, catching up on each other’s lives.
"The kids look a lot like you."
"They have none of my personality, thankfully."
"That’s a shame. You’re funny."
She opens a bottle of wine, and they drink into the late hours of the night.
*
The song is a hit, and no one cares if it might be about their relationship. They both have spouses, kids. It’s ancient history.
Matty puts on his headphones and plays it on repeat, listening to their voices harmonising.
*
They see each other again when Taylor is in London, visiting a friend.
Matty sends her the address of the studio he’s in.
I’m alone, he adds.
"Working on something?" she asks as she’s taking off her coat.
"Yeah. Got bored. You know how this goes."
She puts her hands on the back of his chair and leans over his shoulder to look at the screen. Her hair brushes his face.
"Tea?" he asks. "I could use a break."
"Sure."
*
They're sitting next to each other on the sofa, and Matty can feel her staring as he's licking his fingers after finishing a piece of cake.
"How is the family?"
"Good. Yeah, fine."
He turns to look at her, and Taylor is on him in seconds, pushing him down, straddling him. He doesn’t stop her. She’s the only thing he’s ever felt this selfish about.
*
"You know, I haven’t written anything in ages," she says when it’s over, and they’re lying in the aftermath, fingers intertwined.
"Needed some inspiration?"
Matty is half-joking, but Taylor doesn’t take the bait.
"To feel something."
Maybe that’s what he recognised in her all those years ago when he heard her sing for the first time. The desire for something more.
*
Taylor doesn’t leave until it gets dark. Matty helps her to put on her coat and lingers there with his eyes closed, grasping her shoulders, face buried in her hair.
He should’ve got used to letting her go by now. But somehow, it only becomes harder with time.
*
They don’t see each other for several album cycles. A brief birthday text, a "merry Christmas", and that was all.
But then Taylor ropes in George to work as one of the producers on her next album, and Matty can’t resist tagging along.
*
Her eyes betray her age, but Matty thinks she still looks incredibly young. He’s fully gray now, though, and doesn’t bother hiding it. What a pair they make.
"I’m getting a divorce," Taylor tells him one day after George has left, and they’re in the studio alone.
"Oh."
"Wanna come with me to Rhode Island?"
*
It’s been forever since he woke up next to her in bed, and he feels disoriented for a moment. Taylor is already awake, studying him.
"I look old, don’t I?"
"Looks can be deceiving," she says and climbs on top of him to kiss him.
Matty thinks he could spend his whole life in her bed and be satisfied with that existence. He knows he shouldn’t think like that. But it feels revolutionary in some way — a big fuck you to the American Dream. Few of his memories are as vivid as the ones of her.
*
They eat breakfast outside, watching the sea.
When they’re finished, Matty says, "I’m gonna do it."
"Do what?"
"Divorce her. The kids are of age, so there shouldn’t be any issue."
Taylor doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t miss the look in her eye. A mastermind indeed.
*
"It’s summer solstice tomorrow," Taylor says as they’re walking along the shoreline, holding hands.
"Of course you’d know that."
"Don’t be mean."
"I’m not. I like that."
Matty tugs on her hand, and they stop to sit on the sand, the waves tickling their bare feet.
*
They’re tipsy after dinner and moving to the beat of some jazz record that Taylor put on. Matty moves his hands from her waist to cup her face and kiss her.
He feels outside space and time and gives in to it.
It doesn’t scare him now.
It might be the only thing worth living for.
*
"I do love you, you know," Taylor tells him when he's leaving.
"You sure?"
"Matty."
"I’ll be back soon."
*
He comes back next year when the leaves are starting to change colour and both of their divorces have been finalised. He wants to do it right this time.
It’s early morning. Taylor is staring out at the sea, the wind is playing with her hair. He’s struck by the beauty — of her, of the view — all at once. She seems too lost in thought to hear him approach.
"What are you thinking about?"
She’s shaken out of her reverie and throws her arms around him when she sees him. He feels dizzy just thinking about how he can actually hold her now, freely, without fear or shame.
When she pulls away and looks at him, she’s smiling, and it makes him smile too.
"So?" he asks.
"'So?'"
"What were you thinking about?"
She smirks and leads him to the house.
"I’ll tell you later."