Mr Vice President || Matty Healy

Mr Vice President || Matty Healy

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WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing2h 1m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Tue, Jul 30, 2024
There was a young girl, named Caroline Winter. She was a normal, smart, independent woman for her age of 29, just after her birthday had happened. She had a few mutual friends, with her coworkers George, Adam, Waugh, and a few of their mutuals as well, which made her feel safe in the line of working, in her place in Briefing and Inquiries Enterprise. It seems, all swell. That was, until their ex boss Jamie Squire had demoted himself from the highest place, leaving someone else who she doesn't even expect to be in that highest of power. Matthew Healy, the new VP of their company.
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You're in New York, loud, hungry, impossible New York, where everything's moving too fast and nothing ever really lands. Your best friend drags you out to some half-legal speakeasy, a hidden gem from people in the industry, swears it'll change your life like he always does, and maybe you let him. Maybe because it's easier than sitting at home with your own silence. You don't go looking for Matty Healy. You just find him, or maybe he finds you. Cigarette between his teeth, knuckles tattooed and jaw shadowed, half-drunk on something expensive and godlike without even trying. He's all sharp lines and soft ruin, the kind of man who speaks in riddles and sings like he's bleeding. You're a photographer...freelance, half-known, half-hungry..and you've made a career out of capturing chaos, but nothing prepares you for him. You shouldn't want him, you know that. But want doesn't ask permission. And once you fall in, it's like being dragged under by a current you didn't know was there. This isn't just a love story. It's about the wreckage you carry and the parts of you that music drags back to life. It's about grief that doesn't knock, about needing too much and trying to want less. You lose yourself in his world, in the green rooms and red lights, the 3 a.m. truths, the hangover confessions. The fame, the heat, the damage. And him, always him, in the eye of it all. It's not tidy, nor clean. It's real. Once it starts, there's no going back. So far, it's alright.

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