Matty Healy Imagines

Girl Of Mine

Word Count: 2,700
Summary: "Can you write something where 2017 Matty takes care of his girl who isn't feeling to well? He runs her a bath, carries her to the bathroom, undresses her while whispering positives in her ear, giving soft kisses to her cheek and then he helps her in the bath and helps her wash up and then maybe later on they cuddle?"

He had flown you out as soon as he had heard. Days and nights of not feeling well, partially due to a terrible cold that did not want to leave and the lack of him by your side on his long tour, had taken their toll. You were ill, unhappy, and frankly a mess.

Breaking the news about it to Matty over the phone had been painful. His voice cracked and his tone grew worried. You hated hearing him that way. You never wanted to hear him that way. However, you knew he must know, and respected his decision to have you come to him.

The plane ride sucked, especially given your nose's inability to unstuff. Then again, it was more of the same in terms of discomfort. You had been miserable all week. You knew the feeling well. The only difference this time was that you were miserable thousands of feet above ground. At least Matty had the kindness and forethought to upgrade your ticket to first class. Suffering in first class was a lot less rough than suffering in general business seating. You were simply grateful for the generous supply of fluids they offered.

The plane landing sucked, again courtesy of everything being clogged or stuffed up in your head, but you were happy. Waiting just off to the side of the terminal, with his shaggy yet partially shaved haircut, decked out in one of his ostentatious yet beautiful Gucci outfits, stood Matty. You all but ran into his arms. He brought you into them without question. He did not care of he got sick. He simply was glad to feel you again, be able to protect you again. He kissed your forehead gently, noting its warmth.

"Let's get you out of here," he told you, and you complied happily.

A rather long cab ride later, and you approached the hotel the band was set up in. It was a rather nice hotel, and you enjoyed the little American touches it had in its artwork. You did not go to America as much as Matty, so these little things stood out to you while he brought you to the elevator. He watched you fondly as you explored them until he managed to get you into the elevator. A short ride up, and you were on their floor. Matty paused to tap at a door, letting you know he'd only be a moment. On the other side appeared George. He smiled upon seeing you, though he looked sorry for the state of you.

"Glad you could make it," he told you, and you smiled the best you could given how cruddy you felt. Though you were mostly Matty's girl, he adored you and your company. He was a lot like a big brother to you. You appreciated his friendship and care.

"Thanks George."

A few more words were exchanged between the two before Matty brought you to his room, which you assumed George vacated courteously for your sake. Once inside, Matty instructed you to rest on the bed. As if you needed to be instructed. You let yourself fall on the bed, causing a whimsical yet pitying laugh from Matty across the room. You lost track of how long you laid there, and perhaps you even fell asleep. The next thing your brain registered however was Matty picking you up into his arms and pressing another soft kiss to your forehead.

You could hear the sounds of soft, melodic music playing faintly, along with the sound of running water. They only grew louder as Matty brought you into the bathroom, a marble-laced place with a tub bigger than the one at your flat. He placed you carefully sitting on the counter top's edge before grabbing a bag from his own luggage. Out of it, he took out two pills and handed them to you. Pouring a glass of water from the sink at your side, he also handed it to you and instructed for you to drink. From the bottle, you could tell it was medicine for your cold. He always was looking out for you, even while away. After downing all the water, he poured you a new cup and then took another thing from his bag. This time, you knew what item it was immediately. Makeup wipes. He had you pull your hair back before taking off the little makeup you had on, gently wiping it away in a dotingly tender fashion. Tossing the wipe away, he took your hand into his.