Coffee shops used to be one of Matty’s favorite places to go, just so that he could watch people. He drew a lot of inspiration from life around him, and coffee shops drew such a range of people, from all walks of life, all with one end goal: coffee.

He wanders into his favorite in Manchester, brushing back some of his brown curls, his brown eyes scanning the menu; though he knew what he was going to have, as always. A simple latte, maybe a syrup.

But as he does, he doesn’t expect to walk straight into someone, as his brown eyes flick down to find he’s just bumped into you, spilling your drink over your jacket. His cheeks flush a little, as he quickly apologises, holding his hands up.

“God, I’m so sorry, are you alright? Genuinely, I wasn’t looking where I was going. Here, let me… buy you a new one?”

Matty’s words are rushed, almost fumbled, desperately trying to fix the situation with as little a scene as possible, though his fame made that quite hard. He could see the headlines now: ‘Healy spills coffee over innocent bystander’. God, he’d be in so much trouble again.