Fell In Love In Stages // a matty healy fanfic

Fatigue

I'd been asleep for about forty-five minutes when my alarm went off at 7 a.m. Of course, I didn't notice it blaring for a solid seventeen minutes—not until I felt a hand on my shoulder and heard Manya's voice, soft but insistent. "Good morning, Miss T."

"Huh? Oh, Manya!" I mumbled, groggily sitting up. "I missed you."

I was more exhausted now than I had been at 6:15, when I'd been lying in bed replaying last night's talk with Matty and trying to sort through the tangle of my fears. Skipping school was tempting, but I didn't have the energy to fend off Dad's inevitable questions or lectures. Besides, I was curious—maybe a little too curious—about how Matty would act around me today.

"You seem more tired than usual," Manya remarked, pulling open the curtains.
"Couldn't sleep," I said quickly, steering the conversation elsewhere. "How was home? It felt like you were gone for years."
"Home was..." She let out a wistful sigh. "Wonderful."
"Well, I don't know if this counts for anything, but I'm really glad you're back."
"Oh, Miss T," she said with a smile, "let me make your favorite pancakes."

By the time I wandered into the kitchen, Dad was already at the breakfast counter, reading the paper and eating his usual toast. He glanced up as I walked in.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked.
"Pretty well," I replied, which was technically true. Briefly, but deeply.
"Have a nice day," he said, already burying himself in the newspaper again.

A normal father might have noticed the dark circles under my eyes or caught the faint smell of smoke clinging to my hoodie. He might have asked, "Were you out gallivanting with some boy last night?" And a normal daughter might have replied, "Yes, and I didn't panic at the first sign of intimacy." But that's not us. We're not normal.

When Dad dropped me off at school, I noticed Matty's usual parking spot was empty. Couldn't blame him for being late, really.

The bell rang, and I shuffled off to math, where my exhaustion hit a new level. I'd been tired when I woke up, but combining math with fatigue just seemed unfair. To keep myself awake, I started scribbling a note to Matty—a summary of my favorite moments from last night, not that I'd ever actually send it. But even that couldn't save me.

At some point, my pen just stopped moving, and I found my field of vision shrinking, and then I was trying to remember if tunnel vision was a symptom of fatigue. I decided it must be, because there was only one thing in front of me, and it was Mr. Hallows at the blackboard, so when he said "Trinity?", my brain was processing how he could be both an auditory and a visual presence in my life.

"Yes?" I answered, blinking up at him.
"Did you hear the question?"
"Yes?" I repeated, less confidently this time.
"And you raised your hand to answer it?"

I looked up. Sure enough, my hand was raised. My brain scrambled for a response. "Actually, I just... needed to go to the bathroom."
He sighed and waved me off. "Go ahead."

Grabbing my bag, I shuffled out of the classroom, grateful he didn't press further. Probably figured it was "lady business."

In the bathroom, I splashed water on my face and leaned over the sink, staring into the mirror. My bloodshot eyes stared back, unswayed by my attempts to soothe them. Out of options, I came up with a brilliant plan: I locked myself in a stall, sat down, and leaned against the wall to catch a quick nap.

The sleep lasted for about three whole minutes before the second period bell rang. I got up and walked to physics, and then to English, and then finally it was fourth period and I walked, more awake than ever now, towards the library.

I walked around the back building and instead of the usual group, I found Matty Healy sitting on a patch of grass, a cigarette between his fingers.

"Hey," he said when he saw me.
"Where's everyone?" I asked.
"Band practice," he replied, flicking his lighter open and closed. "I'm just here to meet you."

His words—and the way he avoided eye contact—left me momentarily speechless.

"I really need a nap or something," I finally said, breaking the silence.
He snapped the lighter shut and looked up at me, deadpan. "Woah you look like shit."

I laughed out loud, and he joined in, catching me off guard.

"You look as average as ever," I shot back.

He gasped in mock offense, one hand on his chest as he stood up. "Blast your opinion," he said dramatically, waving a hand as he walked past me toward the parking lot.

A few steps away, he turned back. "You coming?"