matty healy imagines

don't you mind? // gatty (george and matty)

🌸 via BrookieBaine on ao3 !!

🌻 wowie 3 things in one day and they're all gatty bc I know there isn't many lol

//

“Got a minute?”

George looks up from his phone to see Matty leaning in the doorway. He looks his usual self; drowned in all black, oversized jumper eating him up, dark curls all over the place and knobby knees knocking together as he shuffles from foot to foot. But something’s a bit off. He’s clutching a ratty old composition book to his chest-- one George hasn’t seen in months. And Matty looks… Anxious. Giving him this look and chewing at the corner of his thumb nail.

George just smiles and pats at the place next to him on the bed, “C’mon, then.” he puts his phone away as well. This seems like something that might be more important than the text he was about to send.

Matty tries to mirror George’s smile as he ambles over but his is a bit more lopsided. A bit less sure. The way he sits so far from George is another indication of his nerves that are vividly on display. Maybe Ross and Hann can’t tell when something’s wrong with Matty, but George always can. It’s something in the way Matty carries himself; fragile and distant. George continues to watch Matty as he fidgets at the edge of his bed, “The lads still here?” Matty nods his head but keeps his eyes down, flipping slowly through the book. “Yeah. They’re downstairs.” George just nods and draws his lips into a tight line, furrowing his brows.

“...New song.” Matty finally murmurs, peeking up slightly at George through his lashes to judge his reaction. George blinks. Then, he smiles. “Yeah? You’ve got a new song?” Matty, despite how shaky his hands are, gives a small smile and sits up a bit more, obviously reacting solely on how pleased George seems.

A new song typically means something good.

Matty hasn’t written anything in a while.

Sometimes he pulls himself into moods he can’t shake; when happiness strikes him, it’s wonderful. Brilliant. Matty’s playful and he goes to parties and he captures conversations like snapshot memories, coming back to his and George’s apartment and writing everything down word for word once he’s sobered up. He uses that material to write.

But when Matty’s sad, he’s sad. It’s dark blue and heavy silence and Matty refusing to get out of bed, even with George nosing into his neck and telling him it’s 2 P.M. already. It’s going to a pub at 9 P.M. and not coming home till Matty is incapacitated from drinking and George has to practically carry him home. It’s Matty refusing to eat for days on end, worrying George sick.

George doesn’t like the sadness, but he’s stuck with Matty through every emotion humanly possible of existing, and he’d never give up on his best friend. Never. Just like his best friend would never give up on him.

People that think they know them personally see Matty as the victim drowning and George as the lifeboat sent to save him.

But that’s not the case.

They’re both in the choppy water, and they’re clutching to each other.

They depend on each other. Need each other.

George has never needed someone as much as he needs Matty. He doesn’t know where he’d be without him.

“Let’s hear it.” George leans forward on the bed and crosses his legs so he can rest his elbows on his knees. He lets his chin sit in an upturned palm, crop of dyed blonde hair flopping to the side as he cants his head, trying to get a better look at Matty who’s got his head down again-- not making a sound.