Leveshire

Leveshire was a tiny town to the north of England, with oak trees and birches gracing every street corner and avenue. In early autumn, the oaks put on capes of gold, while the birches shed papery brown tears, like old skin, in order to give way to the new. In winter, there was nothing left of the trees, other than the bare torsos and limbs, which were, more often than not, coated with a blanket of snow, as though to keep the chill off their naked flesh.

Matthew didn’t know what had led him to visit Leveshire this winter – he had no connections and no family here, yet something called him to it. After a bland autumn in a grandiose mansion near Lake Como, Matt just wanted a peaceful getaway to a place where every face was new and strange. It was easier that way – not having the responsibility of visiting, chatting and making polite conversation through one’s teeth, while wishing to be back in one’s unsatisfactory home.

The man was peacefully walking down a suburban street with no particular aim in mind, when he heard a strange noise behind him. Not wanting to seem paranoid, Matthew refused to turn his head, and carried on walking. Click-clack went the slightly raised heels of his black leather shoes. There was a shuffle, then a scramble behind him, followed by a clearly forced female cough. Matthew shivered in his thick black coat and pulled up the sharp-edged collar, pretending to have been caught upon a draft of chill. There was another cough and a hurried set of footsteps, as though somebody was running – and they were running towards him.

Matthew edged to the side of the pathway to allow whoever was in such a deep hurry to pass by him, undisturbed, but the footsteps slowed to the equivalent of his own speed, still lingering behind him – much, much closer than before. Finally, the female voice spoke.

“Excuse me.”

Matthew stopped abruptly and turned around, almost crashing, face first, into a blonde of around sixteen, or seventeen years. She was dressed much like him, except with a pair of black and white Chuck Taylors on her feet. He shivered again, wondering how she didn’t freeze to death in the thin shoes, yet feeling rather grateful she wasn’t wearing boots, as her tall frame was already making him feel insignificant enough.

“Excuse me,” she pleaded again, a slight blush creeping into her cheeks, although that could have easily been contributed by the weather. “Are you… Matthew Bellamy?”

Matt sighed and nodded silently. So much for a lonely getaway. I should have gone to America, he thought.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” she spoke in a rushed manner, much like his own, yet heavily adorned by a Scottish accent, “But I’m a great fan of yours.”

“Uh, thanks,” Matt uttered the greatest reply he could think of and forced a smile.

“My name is Olivia,” she offered, as what seemed to be a conversation starter. There was a look of longing in her eyes.

“Nice to meet you, Olivia,” Matt replied, suppressing the urge to tell her his own name, as he figured she already knew it.

She stood there for a while, just looking down at him, making him feel as though she was trying to dig deep into his brain and find all that was melded together, just to pull it apart for examination. The feeling wasn’t new, but Matt still wasn’t used to it. He wasn’t used to feeling so adored, yet in somebody else’s hands. It felt as though Olivia could have picked him up, like any old stuffed toy, and ripped him in two, to show him just how much she loved him. That feeling, too, was not new.

“I just… I just wanted you to know that you are my biggest inspiration,” she finally spoke.

For what? Matt wanted to ask, but restrained himself.

“Thank you,” he uttered. “I’m glad.”

There seemed to be a deep examination of the situation in Olivia’s mind. Her face contorted as she tried to decide on what to say next. Matthew watched this with a great deal of fascination, wishing he had the ability to do the same. Whenever he was asked a question in an interview, or was spoken to by a member of a band he admired, he just spat out whatever was on his mind and more.

“I guess, I’ll leave you to it then,” Olivia spoke through gritted teeth. There was regret in her eyes, and some hope. Matt knew what she wanted – she wanted him to suggest she stayed, to suggest they go for a walk together, to a restaurant together… Matthew didn’t come to Leveshire for that.

“See you around,” he nodded towards Olivia, who smiled awkwardly, not moving from the spot.

Matthew decided to make the first move. He pivoted on his heels, and began to walk away, following his previous direction. No matter how many steps he took, he could still feel Olivia’s wavering blue eyes on the back of his head. He knew she hadn’t moved, as he had heard no footsteps, no shuffling. The best way to break the contact, he decided, was to leave no room for it. Without a second thought, Matthew turned into a side street and scuffled down the frosted path. It seemed some idiot had spilled water on it just this morning, but of course, he could be wrong about anything in this town.

There was a main road cutting off the footpath he followed. He decided to take his chances and follow it to wherever it took him. Here, he could be lost among faces; his shape could be lost among the hundreds of other people dressed in black coats. He felt more or less safe.

There was a tiny building to Matthew’s right. The sign insisted it was a café. Feeling as though Olivia had eaten out his insides, Matt swung open the door, breathing in the sounds of the doorbell, the ringing laughter and the clattering of dishes. This place is tiny, he found himself thinking.

The man walked up to the counter and inspected the food. Grazing his chin with his hand, he looked over all the choices laid out before him. After an eternal five minutes, Matthew finally decided what he was having. He stepped up to the counter.

“Hi there, how can I help you?” A friendly looking woman, not much older than Olivia, was staring at him with an odd sort of smile on her face, in a manner similar to the girl’s.

“Tiramisu and green tea, please,” Matt spat out before the woman recognised him.

“Sorry, I didn’t catch that,” the woman continued watching him in the same way, her eyebrows twisting and untwisting, as though trying to knit a sweater. Matt smirked at the idea, before proceeding to repeat his order, slower this time.

The woman handed a girl, who was running back and forth between two machines, a slip of paper with Matthew’s order on it and named the price.

Matt slipped one hand into a large pocket of his coat, before freezing solid. His wallet wasn’t there. He glanced at the fussing girl, seeing that she had already gotten started on his lunch. Panicking, Matt rifled through his other coat pocket, in which there was, once again, no wallet. Matt glanced behind him to see a queue beginning to form.

“Shit,” he muttered to himself.

Suddenly, a hand appeared from nowhere and placed a ten pound note on the counter. The woman stared at the giver inquisitively, before Olivia’s gentle voice spoke, “It’s for his food.”

Matt turned to stare at her just as, or perhaps more inquisitively than the shopkeeper. “Thank you so much,” he finally uttered to the girl, who blushed in return.

The woman behind the counter handed Matt a number on a stand, which he accepted and went forth on a journey to find himself a table. He felt it would have been rude to sit at a table for one, so he found a table with two chairs, crammed into a corner. He looked around for anybody else who might recognise him. He knew that a lot of his fans dressed like him, so he looked out for a black coat. By the looks of it, everyone in the café absolutely adored Matthew. He sighed, giving up and went back to staring into space, pondering the meaning of life and the existence of extra terrestrial beings.

Olivia walked into his field of vision with a number in her own hand, head moving erratically, looking for him, he realised.

“Over here!” he called, feeling as though it would have been completely unacceptable to have ditched her after she had so kindly paid for him. And besides, maybe she wasn’t so bad. Just because she was a fan, it didn’t mean she was going to smother him. And anyway, she was rather pleasing on the eyes.

Her smile lit up her face as she realised that Matthew Bellamy had just invited her to sit at his table. She shuffled unsurely towards him, her face painted with ecstasy. Matt smiled, got up, and pulled out a chair for her, feeling obligated to act a complete gentleman.

Olivia’s face reddened so much, Matthew was a little worried she would burn to a crisp in there. With another shy smile, the girl sat down and thanked the man a hundred times before he managed to sink into his own seat and they fell into conversation.

Half an hour and a life story later, Matthew stepped out of the café.

Still got it, he thought with a smirk, as he fumbled the stuffed wallet in his denim pocket.