Urgency. | Matthew Healy

c/one. medicine

Welcome to a brand new journey. I said I'd publish August 2nd, didn't I? Well, here we are!

Please give me your greatest feedback possible! Whether it's fixing grammar or a lacky story plot, it's really appreciated.

Enjoy the story!
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I take a swig of my drink and sit down next to Luca, one of my "coworkers", I guess, we work in the same label. He's here to make sure I earn reputation and write another album during my stay in this tour, which is supposed to last for a whopping eight more months.

"Look at how miserable I am." I whine. "I've published an album and nobody gives a fuck about it."

Luca sighs. "Come on, you've had too much to drink, Valerie." He takes my drink away from me.

I groan. "I'm fine, Luca." I try to reach his hand to grab my drink but I find myself unable to coordinate my muscles.

He lifts me up, slightly groaning in the process. "No more drinking, go to bed."

I wrap my arms around his neck in defeat as he carries me to our bed bunks in our tour bus. "I don't even have a bed yet." I say, in realization.

"Then someone's gonna have to share." He places me in a random bunk bed, where I hear someone groan.

"Val?" A voice, which I now recognize at Matty's, talks to me.

"Hey, I'm sorry if I woke you, I carried Luca 'cause he was drunk." I smiled at him.

He chuckled. "Right."

I gasped. "I'm sorry! I guess I really am drunk." I covered my mouth with my hands.

He smiled at my clumsiness. "I suppose you don't have a bed yet?"

I bite the inside of my lip, a habit of mine. "No."

"Then let's go to sleep." He throws the other half of his bedsheets towards me and I loudly thank him, an effect of my drunk self.

I hear him saying goodbye to Luca before I drifted off.

The next morning was interesting, because I woke up in his arms, all tangled up in him, my head on his chest.

I gasped and wriggled out of his grasp, getting out of the bunk bed, feeling a headache not long after, accompanied with the feeling of dizziness.

"Do I smell so bad?" I hear a muffled voice ask, and I feel them coming closer to me.

"Are you okay, Valerie?" He, Matty, lightly grasps my shoulder, making me nearly fall over.

"Woah, okay, come sit down." He takes my hand and tries to lead me to the couch, but I'm way too dizzy to even be standing in this moment.

"I think I'm still a little bit drunk." I manage to say, feeling a horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach, making me rush to the bathroom.

Matty followed and pulled my hair back. I made a mental note to thank him after I feel better.

After a while of hugging the toilet bowl, I actually felt a lot better. Matty helped me get up, and I brushed my teeth and washed my face, all while he still stood there, making sure I was alright.

I finally finished using the bathroom, and I turned to Matty. "Sorry you had to see that." I apologized, scratching my arm. I tend to do things like those when I'm nervous.

He shook his head, walking over to me and cupping my cheek, making me melt. I've been touring with The 1975 for three months, and Matthew Healy will be the death of me. He's so beautiful, and to have him be so close to me –or even care for me – is mind-blowing.

"Are you feeling better, love?" He asks me. He called me love. I took a sharp intake of breath.

"Yes, I am." I answered. He smiled at me, which made me smile as well.

"Thank you for sharing your bed last night. My mattress got fucked up yesterday by some drunks." I thank him, a smile still on my face.

"It was my pleasure." He grins at me. Is this a fucking dream?

"And uh, thanks for pulling my hair back, and stuff." I finished thanking him.

"That was no problem. Although it could be my pleasure, too." He smirked at me.

My mouth hung open, and before I could reply anything, George called him.

"Matty, we need you at rehearsals, now!" He yells.

"Well, see you later!" He waves goodbye, walking over to George.

See you later?  How does he get to leave so casually after saying things like that?

I sigh and lean my head against the door. I don't feel good enough to deal with this shit.

Besides, I shouldn't even see Matty like this. I shouldn't even see guys like this anymore. Not after all the shit I've been put through.

And by shit, I mean my dad, who completely ruined men for me. I just automatically assume they're good for nothing, and although I know that's not true, it's what my father made me believe.

I shake those memories off of my head and walk to the kitchen, going through the bus' cabinet looking for my Advils, grabbing a bottle of water in the process.

I swallowed the two pills and laid down on Matty's bunk bed – not like I had a choice – and prepared for a hopefully peaceful slumber.

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