matty healy imagines

cigarettes and wine // matty

🌸 via laneywrites on ao3 !!

🌼 go read angelic if you haven't yet

//

Everything went to shit the moment I saw her pyjamas.

Because even after Kat invited me inside her flat, pointed to my full wineglass already on the coffee table, and promptly began to moan about her dickhead of a boyfriend, I could hardly pay attention to anything other than her tiny checked pyjama shorts and my jumper—she'd been cold when I walked her home the other night. Yet another mess her shit boyfriend had left me to clean up.

I took my usual spot in her cushy armchair and set the box of fags on the table. Cuddling up in a yellow blanket, Kat settled onto her couch. Her hair was freshly washed, and a few loose, chestnut curls framed her face. They looked so soft. I gulped down a mouthful of wine.

“It’s always the same fucking thing with him, Matt,” Kat grumbled some thirty minutes later. Her lids drooped as though she might nod off between smokes. She annihilated yet another fag and reached for the box again. There were only four left, and I wondered if I should've bought another box. "You'd think he'd get keen after a while, but he doesn't."

Shifting in the armchair, I tightened my smile and glanced down at my wineglass. I couldn't remember if this was my second or third.

“I don’t know why I keep expecting him to change.” Her mouth sloped down in a frown. She pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them close like a child would a teddy bear, and took a drag.

I forced myself to ask what I've asked too many times before: “Then why do you?”

Kat rolled the fag between her fingers and sighed. “I dunno. We talk about it and he just doesn’t—I don’t know.” Her pouty lips pursed while drawing in a long breath, then she shrugged. “But I love him, y’know? Besides, he said he was gonna do something to make it up to me this weekend.”

I downed my last bit of wine to hold off a groan. It was already half one in the morning and my shift started in less than five hours, but I needed a refill—badly.

“I reckon it’ll be good, though,” she mused, and that soft smile bowed her pink mouth again.

“Oh yeah?” I chuckled. “So that’s how this dickhead got outta chatting up another bird in front of you?”

Her laugh was carefree, and she shot me a grin that made my stomach bottom out.

I reached for the wine bottle. “What?”

"Matty." She shook her head, something like endearing amusement still stretching her lips.

“Look all I'm saying is, if he does that shit with you there, imagine what he does when you’re not. Prick." I swigged down the last bit and ran the back of my sleeved hand over my mouth. "Fuckin' dump his arse already, move on.”

She snorted and combed her fingers through her dark curls, and I tried not to imagine doing the same. “Like you’re any better, Matt.”

“’Course I am!”

She giggled, “I’m serious, he's—”

“And I'm not?“ I fought to maintain my smile.

Still amused, she sent me pointed look. “C’mon, Matty. He’s never actually cheated on me, you know.” When I snorted, she added, “At least Reese can stay sober for more than one bloody day.”

Her words were a gunshot to my chest, heavy and painful. I prayed my face didn’t let on, but then her lighthearted smile faded. Her wide gaze fixed on mine as she realised the wound, and then her eyes fell closed, lids scrunching tightly. The air in this room thickened into haze I could easily choke on. I let my gaze wander while trying to ignore the hollow feeling beneath my ribs, and still she said nothing.