loving someone / matty healy

𝙛𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙡 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙

I stood at the front door of Matty's house, anxiously awaiting its opening. This house has been like my second home up until, well, quite recently, so I couldn't quite figure out what the nerves were for.

"Hiya, love. You haven't popped round here in a while" His mother, and my mother's best friend, Denise, immediately pulled me into a warm hug. One of those hugs where we're rocking side to side, and I tried to embrace her in return just as enthusiastically.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that" I gave a guilty smile.
"Oh, don't apologise, darling. I take it you're here for Matty?" She smirked as if she knew something that I didn't.
"Mhm, is he in?"
"Yes, come in, love. He's upstairs, but let me tell you, that boy has been lost without you around him twenty-four seven!"

"Oh, I'm sure he's alright. I'm here now" I gave jazz hands, instantly regretting it, but she just laughed.
"I'll pop the kettle on!" and then she disappeared off into the kitchen.

I started venturing upstairs, following the familiar path to the cosy bedroom at the end of the hallway, the door lined with stickers of bands he adored, the walls behind the door the same, but with posters instead.

Usually, I would have just burst in, announcing my presence with a polite, "What's up shithead?", and then throwing myself ever so gracefully onto his bed, but now, it didn't feel like something that would be normal anymore.

My knuckles rapped the wood of the door, a soft, "Yeah?", sounded from behind it in response.
"Hey, it's me," I spoke hesitantly. "Is it alright if I come in?"

Shuffling could be heard from the other side of the door a few moments after my request, and not too long after, the door was opened. Matty stood in front of me, face still fucked up but that boyish grin was still there.
"What brings you around these parts, Montgomery?"
I snorted at his stupid joke which wasn't even that funny.

"I saw the other guy" I put bluntly.
He sighed, opening the door wider. "Make yourself comfy."
I perched myself on the chair that usually supported a massive pile of unorganised clothes, watching him as he stepped towards his bed, wearing only black jeans and a black and white striped shirt.

"You're not mad at me, are you? I asked you not to be mad at me." He was biting his nails, looking up at me with a fear that took me back to the day I broke my elbow falling off his skateboard, and how he wouldn't stop blaming himself.
"I don't know enough about it to be mad"
"How much did that wanker tell you?" His disliking of the guy he was talking about, who happened to be my damn boyfriend of all people, couldn't have been more evident.

"Oi! He's not a wanker!" I snapped back.
"Could've fooled me" He mumbled, giving a shrug of his shoulders, trying to seem like he was nonchalant about the whole thing but it was clearly bothering him. His shoulders were tensed, fists clenched at the mention of Armaan.

"Matthew, stop being an arse and tell me what bloody happened" I got nothing out of Armie by being nice.
"Well, I'll ask again, how much did he tell you?" He pressed again. He was now laying on his back, eyes fixated on the ceiling again.

"Said you started it for no reason" I shrugged, but even as I said it out loud myself, it didn't sound right. That isn't Matty.
A chuckle sounded from the dark corner where he was laying, his room only just illuminated enough to see our surroundings by the little lamp on his bedside table. I could see the silhouette of his face, a structure I'd been studying since the day I was born. Maybe I'd draw him one day.

"Of course he did," he was still chuckling, but there was nothing humorous about it. It was strained and hurt, and I hated it. "Fucking typical."
"Are you saying Armaan's lying?" The thought of that possibility made me feel uneasy. The thought of putting my trust into someone that couldn't actually be trusted set off an almost untameable panic in my chest.

"I'm saying I wouldn't trust him as far as I could throw him, but you seem to have decided that you can, so..." His arms were folded across his chest, defensively. He used to playfully put those arms around me, now it seemed like that's the last thing on Earth he ever wanted to do again.

"Why? I deserve to know why my best fr- why you don't trust my boyfriend" My voice broke at my own mention of him as my best friend, his head turning in my direction at my words, too.
"Evie, I-I just don't think I should be the one to tell you, it should be him. Please, don't make it come from me." What the fuck is going on?
"Matty, you're scaring me" My voice was small, and if it hadn't of been for the sigh he gave just after I spoke, I'd be questioning if this moment was real, and if I had really just interrupted the darkness.

He sat up, a hand running stressfully through his curls, legs dangling off the side of the bed, almost reaching mine, but not quite.
His voice soft as he spoke, and I felt safe.

"Just know that he fucking deserved it."