Matty had gone thru the worst 36 hours of his life. You, his situationship, had gone literally missing. He couldn't find you and contact you in any way. He called his bandmantes and begged to help him look for you in all London. He never thought he'd care so much about a person, untill he found himself smoking 3 packs of cigarette from the anxiety eating him alive.

You, poor soul, were at a park, after you had fought with your parents all night, so much that you decided never to step foot in that house, ever again. Your phone was dead, so no way to contact Matty. You were sat on a bench, smoking and looking completely wrecked. The only thing you could do was go to his house.

Matty was in his car, looking around in the dark streets of London, since it was now 3am. He suddenly received a call from George, his bandamate. "George, any news?" Matty said nervously. "She's here" George says "At your place, come." Matty sighs deeply and immediately rushes to his flat. He runs up stairs and slams doors, just go get to you as soon as possible. There you were, on his couch, wrapped around a blanket and smoking.