Fell In Love In Stages // a matty healy fanfic

Confessions

The bar was dimly lit and pulsing with energy, the air thick with music and the hum of overlapping conversations. People packed shoulder to shoulder, swaying in unison as the band played. It seemed like the bands popularity was rapidly growing. A girl with a sharpie'd DLID tee brushed past us just then, like a confirmation of their growing fanbase.

"Usually, people come here because the booze is cheap and the bartenders don't card them," Sophie said, leaning close to my ear. "But tonight, it appears they're here for the boys."

I couldn't help but smile, even as my gaze flicked toward the stage. Matty looked effortless up there, the kind of magnetic that made it hard to look away. But no matter how captivating he was, a name lingered at the edge of my thoughts: Molly.

Where was she? Closer to the stage, maybe. Watching Matty with a better view than mine? I scanned the sea of bodies but couldn't find her.

"Come on," Lacy tugged at my elbow. "Let's move up."
We squeezed by a high-top table full of people doing shots. One of the guys fell back on her, and Sophie nudged him back up with a tight smile.

"Is it always this packed?" I asked, trying to keep my balance as we moved.
"Not like this," Sophie said, her expression impressed. "This is next level."

"Hey," a gravelly voice cut through the noise.

We turned to find a man standing uncomfortably close, his face weathered and his grin too familiar. His eyes zeroed in on Lacy.
"You're Marjorie's kid, yeah?"
Lacy froze, her brow furrowing.
"Um... yeah? And you are?"

"I knew it," he said, his grin widening. "Your mom and I... let's just say I've parked in her driveway before." He let the words hang, leering.
"Creep," Lacy muttered, turning her back.
"You've got her eyes," he continued, ignoring the insult. "And her—"
"Fuck off," I snapped, stepping in front of her.
"And who are you?" he asked, his gaze shifting to me.
"Don't even think about it, perv," Sophie cut in, her voice slicing through the tension.

The exchange caught the attention of a few people nearby, heads turning in our direction. Before it could escalate, a voice interrupted.
"Do we have a problem here?"
Peter appeared out of nowhere, towering over the man, his hands gripping his shoulders with deliberate force.
"Who the fuck—" the man started, but his words faltered as he registered Peter's size. The fear in his eyes was almost comical.

"Let's take this outside," I suggested quickly, not wanting a scene to ruin the night.
"No problem, man," the guy mumbled, his bravado deflating.
"Good," Peter said, his grip loosening but not before giving the guy a heavy clap on the shoulder that made him stumble.

Before I could exhale, a new voice joined in.

"What's going on here?"
I turned to see her. Molly.
"It's handled, sis," Peter said casually.
Sis? I blinked, and it clicked. How had I not noticed before? Standing side by side, the resemblance was unmistakable. Two tall, golden-haired twins, practically glowing even under the dim bar lights.

Molly turned her attention to me, her expression unreadable. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"
Apprehension tightened my chest, but I nodded. "Sure."

As we made our way to the back exit, I glanced over my shoulder. Sophie and Lacy were watching, their brows raised in silent question. I shrugged, unsure myself.

The exit door swung open, and a gust of cold air whipped past us, making Molly's hair dance around her face. She fumbled with a lighter, a cigarette between her lips.

"Do you mind?" she asked.
I cupped my hands to shield the flame, her fingers brushing mine as she lit up.
"Thanks," she said, exhaling a plume of smoke. "I figured I'd take this chance to talk since he so rarely leaves you alone."

Her tone was casual, but the words felt sharp. My stomach tightened, but I stayed quiet, twisting the strap of my bag nervously.

"Please don't think I'm horribly interfering," she said, her voice gentle and almost pleading. "I'm sure this is weird enough as is"
"It is a bit weird, yes, but go on" I say

She laughed a little—sounding oddly embarrassed.
"Did he ever mention why we broke up?"
"I, uh... didn't even know you dated," I admitted, the confession laced with confusion.

Her smile twisted, a bitter expression that still managed to be striking.
"Of course you didn't." She took another drag, the smoke curling around her like a veil. "It wasn't just a breakup. We were best friends.
At least, I thought we were."

Her gaze drifted upward, as if the memory were painted on the dark clouds above us.
"We met through our parents. My dad worked on one of Denise's shows. Matty and I clicked instantly. One night, at a premiere party, a bunch of older kids thought it'd be hilarious to humiliate me. Matty was at the dessert table, oblivious, when they saw their moment. They lifted my dress over my head." She let out a laugh devoid of humor. "I was mortified. Ran off and hid in a closet. You know how, at that age, even the smallest thing feels like the end of the world?"

I nodded, though her words hung heavy, pulling me further into her story.

"When I finally worked up the courage to come out, I found Matty—surrounded. He'd started a fight with the boy who'd humiliated me. When I asked him why, after the adults had broken it up, he just shrugged and said he'd smashed a slice of pie in the guy's face. Like it was nothing." She smiled then, a real one this time, but there was still something broken in it.

"Denise came storming over, dragged him to the car, shouting the whole time. And there he was, sitting in the back seat, eyes only on me. Grinning from ear to ear. That's when I knew." Her voice dropped, quieter now. "I knew I was in love with Matty Healy."

She stopped suddenly, glancing at me. I tried to keep my face neutral, but something—my clenched jaw or furrowed brow—must've betrayed me.

"But Matty Healy wasn't in love with me," she said, her tone turning brittle.

She took another drag of her cigarette and exhaled, the smoke curling like ghosts around us.

"All through middle school, we held hands in the halls. By high school, we were sneaking off to his room, smoking up, sometimes making out..." She trailed off when I flinched. Her eyes flicked toward me, unreadable.

"One night, I was drunk—completely out of it—and I told him.
I told him I loved him, that I'd loved him since that stupid premiere party. He just got up and walked away. Left me there."

"So let me get this straight, you're saying he's a horrible person because he didn't feel the same way about you?"

"It's not just that he left," she spat back, her patience wearing thin. "It's that he left me when I overdosed," she said bluntly, her eyes locking on mine.
"He didn't even check on me when I was at the hospital. He disappeared completely.
And when I came back to school, he avoided me like I didn't exist."

Her words hit like a punch to the gut. I struggled to reconcile this version of Matty with the one I knew—the one who took care of me with such softness, who held me when I felt like falling apart.

"I don't think he loves anyone as much as he loves himself," Molly said with a wry smile, flicking ash from her cigarette.

Her words lingered as the wind picked up, carrying the storm closer.