Fell In Love In Stages // a matty healy fanfic

Better Than Ever

-Matty's POV-

I woke up feeling like death in a strange hotel room, not quite sure where I was or how I got here. My head was pounding, and I could barely remember the events of the previous night.
It wasn't the first time I had woken up in a strange place, but the uncertainty of the night was overwhelming. I dreamt about her again, but much like the rest of the night, my dream was fragmented and insubstantial. The only thing I could remember was being kicked out of a bar for being too drunk. The same bar I was supposed to perform at tonight.
The prospect of facing the repercussions of my actions overwhelmed me, and I lay in bed, wishing for the obliteration of my consciousness.

I groaned and rolled over, desperately craving a lobotomy.

I hear the sound of the door opening and the familiar voices of my bandmates. I let out a slow, excruciating sigh and cover my head with a pillow. "Matty, are you okay?" Ross asks, and I slowly sit up, my head throbbing.
"I don't know," I mumble, rubbing my temples. "What happened last night?"
George gives me a concerned look. "You don't remember?"
I shake my head, feeling a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach. "No, I don't."
Adam speaks up, "We found you passed out on the hood of the rental behind the bar, mate. We had to carry you back to the hotel."
I feel my face flush with embarrassment. "Oh fuck me," I say, putting my head in my hands. "Did I do anything stupid?"
Ross hesitates before answering. "Well, you did run into your ex."
My heart drops. "What? Which one?"
"I think you know which one, mate" George says gently. "She seemed upset, and you were going off on her. By the time we got to you, she'd already taken off."

So it wasn't a nightmare. I sat up in bed, all my memories came flooding back.
George noticed my sudden movement and came over to me. "You alright?" He asked, concern etched on his face.
"I fucked up," I mumbled, rubbing my temples. "I just...I was a cunt to her, man."
"You're still hurting," Ross says gently, holding up a water bottle. "Here, drink this. It'll help with the hangover."

"I'm not!" I snap, my tone sharp and defensive.
"At least, I haven't been for a long time," I add, my voice trailing off as I start to question my own feelings.
"I'm over it," I state firmly, trying to convince myself as much as whoever I'm talking to.
"She just... Caught me off guard, that's all," I say, but the words feel unconvincing even to my own ears.
I couldn't deny the rush of emotions that washed over me when I saw her across the street.
The way she looked at me, the way she still had that effect on me... it's all too familiar.

I eagerly consume the water, feeling a sense of solace wash over me as I quenched my thirst. Yet, despite the physical relief, my emotional turmoil persisted. She didn't deserve my anger and resentment. She had moved on and was living her life, and so was I, for that matter. After all, I had been touring the country with the lads, playing sold-out shows and fucking super models. My dreams were rapidly materialising right in front of me. I had no reason to complain. So why the fuck did I say the things I did?

"I need to talk to her," I say, getting out of bed and grabbing my phone.
"To apologise?" Ross asks.
"To clear the air," I say. "And to let her know that last night was a one-off drunken mishap."

The lads exchanged a worried look, but didn't say anything.

The apparition of her memory persisted, taunting me with its stubbornness. As a musician, I knew the importance of focus, the need to channel my energy towards my craft, my life's work.
Yet, I start to imagine what it would be like to see her, to talk to her, to touch her in forbidden places...
I try to reign in my reveries and concentrate on tonight's set list, but I couldn't deny the physical attraction I still had for her.
How her breasts were twice it's size since I last saw her, and how her voluptuous derrière would fit perfectly over my face. After all this time of giving into every single urge, every depravity, with no objections or controlled measures, I was finding it quite challenging to govern my thoughts.

Maybe if I fucked her, I could finally put these feelings to rest.

A quick Google search was all it took to bring me up to speed. The results were varied and extensive, a testament to the breadth of her accomplishments.
Travel pieces, political analysis, and yes, even a bit of gossip. She had been keeping herself busy, it seemed.
I refrained from googling her name for so long. I knew I had to be careful, that falling back into old habits could be disastrous. Even George- ever the vigilant friend- had broken several of my phones over the years as a drastic measure to prevent me from spiraling out of control. The temptation was strong, but eventually, I resolved to focus on my music, to use it as a shield against the ghosts of my past.

I text Jamie asking him to find out about her whereabouts before heading into the bathroom.
As I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw a mess of a person. My eyes were bloodshot, my hair was a mess, and I had a bruise on my cheek from where the bouncer had pushed me out of the bar. I couldn't believe I had let myself get that drunk again.

I grab the clippers on the counter and without hesitation, I set to work, expertly shaving away at the sides of my head. The buzzing sound fills the air, drowning out all other noise as I focus on the task at hand. With each swift stroke, I feel a sense of release, as if shedding my old self and embracing a new identity. When I'm done, I step back and examine my reflection in the mirror, pleased with the transformation.