Matty Healy Imagines

In Your Arms

Word Count: 907
Warning: Mentions of self harm. 
Summary: "Can you write one where Matty finds out that the reader self harms and starts crying and cuddles with her and holds her?"

He advocates love. You can hear it every time he sings, be it to a crowd or to a small gathering of friends at his flat. Matty's entire world, his entire being, revolves around the concept. Surely, being in his company, both as a spectator in the crowd and as a lucky listener in his flat, should make you grasp the concept just as well. That is what you thought. However, things cannot be so easy for you. As if they ever are.

You go to his concerts, you hear him perform, you let him pour out his love to you after he returns off the stage, and return back to his flat somehow feeling unloved. Matty does a good job of loving you, that fact you would never disregard. His love is almost otherworldly, so full of emotion and deep care. But, it is not enough to fully convince your mind some nights that you are deserving of it. It is not enough to keep you at all times secure and knowledgeable that you are as good as he says you are by him. It is in those moments that you find yourself your weakest. It is in those moments, when you are hidden away from him and by yourself, that you allow yourself to self-medicate your insecurities in any way possible. It's far from a perfect solution, but it's what you've chosen.

You have always been able to hide your scars from Matty. You love wearing soft cardigans, and Matty loves seeing you in them no matter what the temperature. Thankfully, he is the king of wearing clothing that ignores his climate, so he never comments on the longer attire across your arms. Whenever he gets close to noticing, you usually are able to switch the subject, or distract him with a kiss. It usually works like a charm. It has worked for the year you have known him and been his girlfriend.

No plan is perfect, though. One day, you are cooking food for Matty in his kitchen. It's morning, and he is curiously sitting on the counter watching you prepare breakfast. All is well, seemingly so. He's happy today, and you have been worse. He is cracking a few jokes and teasing you, and it's rather nice. You find yourself laughing along to a few of them. He's not the best comedian, but he never fails to make you laugh at at least one of his jokes. You reach to grab salt, needed to sprinkle over the eggs you finished making, when suddenly a sharp pain hits your wrist. 

Cursing, you retract your hand and inspect the damage. It's a large cut courtesy of one of the knives used to cut up some of the ingredients, not deep but deep enough to draw blood, and it goes a good three inches down your arm. Matty curses as well when he sees you clutch your arm, jumping up off of the counter to your aid. He grabs your wrist to check your injury before you can retract it. It takes him a moment, but you notice his eyes widen. It's not the only mark on your arm. Far from so, to be more specific. You look down at your shoes, face growing red. Silence.

"Let's get this bandaged."

It stays silent as you are brought carefully to his bathroom and sat on the countertop. His eyes do not meet yours as he gently cleans out the cut and wraps it in bandages, not too loose, not too tight. No, it's not until you are fully set and all supplies are put away that he finally breaks the unbearably loud silence between you. When you look up at the sound, you see tears in his eyes.

"I-I'm sorry."

You frown. "Matty, it's not your fau-"

"No," he speaks, firm yet calm. "I know, but let me say this. Or, try to." You cannot mistake the crack in his voice. "{Y/N}, I...I'm not going to tell you to stop or...or try and guilt you into stopping for me, because that's not fair to you and won't help anyone. I just...I want you to know that I'm here for you, okay? Whenever things get that bad, I'm around. I'm always going to be there for you. You never have to hide this, your feelings, from me, okay? I'm going to love you just the same."

A tear falls down your cheek. "I don't deserve you. You're too good to me."

"Bullshit."

"But I do-"

"{Y/N}," he says, moving to cup both of your cheeks in his hands, "you are deserving of love. Anyone, anything, that tells you otherwise is fake and false and complete and total bullshit. I promise you that."

"Matty-"

"Look at me."

Listening, you look into his eyes. "I'm serious. You are loved, and you are deserving of love."

"Can you hold me?"

Face softening, Matty nods and moves so that he can wrap his arm around you, bringing you close to his chest. It's so comforting to feel him actually holding you, cuddling you close. It makes his words seem all that more legitimate and real. It makes your mind, as annoying as it is, believe that they might be real. And for now, that's enough. It's good to know though that, on those days when it isn't, you now have someone to turn to.

You could never thank Matty enough for that.