Fell In Love In Stages // a matty healy fanfic

Ducky

It was almost nine by the time we arrived at the venue, and the parking situation was pure chaos. The street was a neon jungle, bars stretching endlessly in either direction, each spilling over with bodies. Finnigan' wasn't any better, so we ended up parking blocks away. I thanked the heavens I wasn't wearing Lacy's pointy, high-heeled boots—but, of course, she made them look effortless.

"Wait!" Sophie grabbed Lacy by the shoulders the second she stepped out of the car. "Hold still."
"What are you doing?" Lacy protested, but Sophie ignored her, leaning in and shaking out her hair at the roots.

"If you're not gonna blow it out, you might as well look like you've just been properly fucked," Sophie declared with a smirk.

"Jesus Christ," Lacy muttered, but then she caught sight of herself in the car's side mirror. "Actually... that's genius."

We joined the throng of people streaming toward Finnigan's. The music thumped like a heartbeat, growing louder with every step. "Hold on, let me text Adam," Sophie said, pulling out her phone and weaving through the crowd.

After a few buzzes and some muttering under her breath, she looked up. "The guys are in the back lot behind the bar. They want us to meet them there."

A knot twisted in my stomach. Not nerves exactly, but something close. Sophie, ever the ringmaster, looped her arms through mine and Lacy's, guiding us forward like we were her entourage.

Finnigan's neon sign blinked overhead—only the "Finn" and the clover still lit. A dozen girls spilled out of the doorway, laughing and stumbling over each other. We slipped past the main crowd and turned the corner into the lot reserved for staff and performers.

Lacy and I trailed behind Sophie, and she saw him first.

"Shit," she hissed, squeezing Lacy's arm like a warning. Too late.
A man stepped out from the shadows, tall and broad, with sharp, angular features that radiated familiarity in a way that made my skin crawl. His blonde hair gleamed under the parking lot's dim floodlights, slicked back with precision.

"Soph? Is that you?" he drawled, spreading his arms wide as though expecting her to run into them.
"Hi, Peter," Sophie said flatly, breezing past him without so much as a glance.
He chuckled, feigning a shiver. "Lighten up, sweetheart."

Before I could process what was happening, he turned his attention to Lacy, cornering her with his arms on either side. "Lacy. My special girl. You'll give me a hug, won't you?"

"Hi, Peter," she squeaked, wilting under his gaze. "Long time."
"Long time indeed," he said, letting his eyes roam over her in a way that made my stomach churn. "Look how you've... grown."

I couldn't take it anymore. Tugging Lacy's elbow, I said firmly, "Hey, the show's about to start."

Peter turned his gaze to me, his eyes dark and hungry. "And who are you?"

"Not interested," I snapped, pulling Lacy away before he could say anything else.

"Such a creep," I muttered once we were safely out of earshot.
"But so hot, right?" Lacy said, biting her lip.
I rolled my eyes so hard I practically saw stars.

Ahead of us, Sophie was helping Adam and Ross unload equipment from the van. George leaned against a wall, chatting up a brunette, and then there was Matty—always leaning. This time it was against his car, a beer bottle in one hand, his other pressed intimately into a girl's back as he whispered something in her ear. She tossed her head back, laughing loud enough to carry over the noise.

I kept walking, my feet moving on autopilot, until I reached the group. The girl turned around just as I got there, and my stomach sank like a stone. It was her.

The girl from Matty's MySpace profile.

My breath hitched. Everything around me slowed as she walked up and, to my horror, pulled me into a hug.

"You're Trinity, right?" she asked, her voice melodic and unnervingly friendly.

Up close, she was breathtaking—tall, golden-haired, and glowing like she'd stepped out of a magazine. Her smile was wide and warm, but her eyes... her eyes were careful.

"I'm Molly Bauer," she said, her glossy lips curling into an even brighter grin. "I've heard so much about you from our little Matt here." She bumped her fist against Matty's shoulder.

My head was spinning. I couldn't think of anything conventional to say so I said, "It's Matty" at the same time he did and our eyes met again and we shared a knowing smile that put me a little at ease.

Molly noticed, her smile faltering for half a second before snapping back in place. "Matt, Matty, Matthew—it's all the same to me, right Ducky?" She turned to him, her tone sickly sweet.

Matty flinched, visibly uncomfortable. "Right," he muttered.

I wanted to wipe that smug smile off her face, but instead, I kept my composure.

"Hey, T. Can I talk to you for a sec?" Matty asked, steering me a few steps away from the group.
"Sure," I said, trying to sound cool, though my voice came out embarrassingly shrill.
"I've been meaning to talk to you about this morning."
Me too, I wanted to say. Instead, what came out was: "Who's Molly?"
"She's just a friend," he said quickly, defensively.

The moment hung awkwardly between us, balanced on the edge of something—but before either of us could figure out what, the back door swung open, and a tattooed stagehand called out, "Two minutes!"

Matty sighed. "To be continued?"
I nodded.

He started to walk away, paused, then came back. He leaned in, brushing his lips against mine in a kiss so brief it almost didn't happen. But it did, and it left me breathless.

In the background, someone—probably George—let out an obnoxious whistle. Matty pulled back, smirking.
"You look good," he said, his voice low and warm.
"Go," I replied, still grinning. "Kill it."