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heyidkyay · 3 months

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10 Things Y/n Can't Live Without | GQ

Got to watching Matty's old one of these and just decided to try and write one for reader, it's silly and short but if it might be something you're into then I hope you enjoy x

“Hi GQ, I’m Y/n, and you might’ve heard a couple of my songs if you’re stuck watching this- if not, then boo, you suck.”

She pauses, thinking on it, then winces slightly and looks straight past the cameras at one of the shoot’s directors.

“Can I say that? Is that too mean?” Before anyone can actually answer though, she waves a hand, “Ah fuck it, I don’t care. If Matty can act like a twat on his one, then so can I.” She bears a giant grin and then the lens closes in, switching from frame to frame to capture the few items she’s brought in.

“Why are you here then today?”

She blinks and then exaggerates her eyes at the sudden reminder, “Not even five minutes in and I’ve already messed this up. But yeah, sorry! Today, I’ve brought in my ten essential items, and I guess you’re wanting to see them.”

Wiggling her fingers, the scene then changes.

1 - “A Lighter.”

She hums in reply to the voice, looking down at the item and then back up again. “I bet, like, if you had Harry Styles on here, his first thing would be something really nice and lovely, like Emma by Jane Austen. Seems the type, right?”

Scratches her nose in thought, “But no, you’ve just got me.”

“And what a privilege it is.”

She laughs and gives a mock bow.

“Anyway, yeah.” She continues on, fiddling with the clunky silver antique in her hand, “Not much to say about it, really. If you need a light, I’m your gal. Always prepped for arson or the odd joint.”

“Okay, probably shouldn’t say that.”

“Right, yeah ‘course, sorry. Um, don’t smoke weed then, kids?” She points at the camera with a mocking salute before the scene then changes again and she’s asked to flick open the lighter for a different shot.

There’s a click and then the flame dies.

2 - A ziplock bag sits on top of the table. A basic run of the mill seal-again with a fading Tesco’s branded on one side.

“Ah, this is probably my most prized possession, I reckon.” Her eyes dance under the studio lights and a few chuckles can be heard from behind the camera.

“What are we looking at here?”

She drags the plastic baggy in closer and unzips it, taking a sniff of the strong scent that escapes. “Tea bags.”

“Tea bags? What kind?”

“Yorkshire through and through. Here in the states it’s so hard to find even a basic PG pyramid, let alone one of these babies.” She cradles it close to her chest, “Honestly would kill for a brew right now. But these things help me whenever I get a little too homesick- both on tour and when I’m just travelling.”

“Very lovely.”

“Very British.” She corrects with a wide grin.

3 - “I honestly want to meet the person who first invented headphones, because? Wow. What a man.” She sighs, almost reverently, opening up the AirPods case she holds with a single hand, one which seems to be covered in tiny stickers and a difficult to read engraving.

“Reckon they had to have been the world's biggest introvert at the time. I mean, just imagine shoving shit into your ears trying to escape the idiots sat ‘round you, but then doing one better and deciding that you’d much rather prefer to listen to something sick.”

“How are they essential to you?”

“It'll sound dramatic. But I actually feel like I’d be lost without them? In a sad way. They let me disconnect when I need to, and with a job like mine that’s really hard to do at times.”

“And the last song you listened to?”

She smirks, eyes squinting at the question as she glances into camera one. “A demo.”

“One of yours?”

She merely laughs, and the joyful sound of it echoing around the studio space. “No, I wish! We’ll be waiting on that one for a while longer still.”

4 - The next item is slid into shot.

“Ah, my phone.” She clutches it in one hand but looks down at it, almost saddened.

“It feels so stupid to say it’s an essential, because I miss the old days when we were all forced to go outside and knock about. But it really is. It has everything I need to keep me safe stored on there and also keeps me updated on things happening back home, just stuff like that. Plus, it really helps to keep my brain occupied on long flights and during meetings. So there’s always an upside.”

“What kind of case do you have on it?”

Her nose wrinkles as she glances down at the battered protecting she’s had since she first got the phone, and hums, “Just one of them hardshell ones- that what they're called? But yeah, it was a present- very much me, or so I’ve been told- and I was grateful for it. It’s scratched to bits now though, but my screen has yet to break!”

She winces, “I say that, but that’s it now. The next time it drops it’ll shatter, won’t it?”

5 - We watch as she sits a clunky old disposable before herself. It’s black and yellow, and slightly scuffed, but looks very well loved.

“Pretty self-explanatory. Just a camera, I take pictures, these things pair well together.” She turns it on and an unexpected flash goes off, “The price to print film is fucking extortionate though. So, don’t expect a copy of that.” She chuckles, alongside a couple of the camera crew and then slides the camera further down the table.

“If anyone were to get hold of it though, they’d have a proper field day- but alas, what happens on tour, stays on tour.”

6 - The next item is one she toys with for a long moment, looking down at its yellowed pages before settling it down gently before her so that the camera can get a close up.

“A novel?”

She shakes her head, wearing the beginnings of a fond smile.

“No, this little beauty is my first child.” She states, splaying a hand over the cover of a leatherbound journal. Which earns her a few raised brows that she just laughs at before picking the thing up to flick through. “It is! But it’s also your quintessential songbook. Packed full of stories and lyrics and messy scrawl. I’ve got things sellotaped in there too, just as reminders or for when I lack inspiration.”

“What sort of things?”

With a hum, she thinks about it. “Bottlecaps? Um, a couple polaroids... Think there’s a seashell or two in there as well, from the time I was visiting a friend of mine in Barbados. So yeah, I’ve had it for years, just keep adding pages in. Need a new one though. Desperately.”

“Can we have a look inside?”

She peers down the book, hands cradling it almost protectively now, then chews on her lower lip.

“You can say no.”

Her eyes dart upwards again, “No, you’re all good. It’s just personal, you know? But yeah, I can show you the first page or so.”

Slipping off the elastic binding it altogether, the book practically bursts open on its own. She’s quick to flick to the very first page, which sports a couple of film pictures as well as the odd sticker, but is mainly just filled with miniscule scribbles.

The camera zooms in for a closer shot.

“So, all the doodles and wobbly words are just from friends or other writers I’ve worked with.” She points to a little drawing of a t-rex in the corner, “This here, was my mate George’s work. He’s vandalised quite a bit of this book, I can’t lie. But we’ve known each other for ages, and he’s produced and worked on most of my music.”

Then she trails her finger lower and across a couple of names, “There, Lewis Capaldi wrote that I’ve got a great arse, and then Noel Gallager graced a corner with his scribbled signature- still aiming to get Liam’s somehow. But I’m working on it.”

She peers a little closer, looking for another story or detail to mention, “Oh, down here you can see a bit of blood! Like two or three splatters that stain the page.” She grins wickedly and glances back up at the camera, “That was from a time I tagged along to a Bring Me The Horizon tour, way back when. Oli sliced his hand on a guitar string and it was a proper mess. Bit mad looking back on it actually.

“What can you tell us about that main photo?”

She practically beams at the question, her gaze immediately shooting back towards the picture sat in the page’s very centre. It’s square and has its own doodled frame.

“That’s me and a couple of very good friends of mine. Bit of a difficult picture to make out, but only because it was taken with a flash and it’s about a decade old now.” She relays, dropping the notebook down on her forearm so that the camera guy can get a better look. “That’s Hann and Ross, and there’s G’s big smile. My oldest mate, Vin, is the idiot leaning over the shoulder of my cousin, Lol, in that very top corner, and then at the bottom there is Matty and I.”

“Very cosy.”

She smirks.

7 - “Number seven, what have you got for us?”

She huffs around an amused smile, “Do you know how hard it was to think of ten items? Like, if I was back home I’d’ve probably brought my mum’s dog along- or my settee. But I’m not, so I got stuck and as I was thinking about it I figured that these had to be an essential of mine. ‘Cause when I’m with the guys I’m sort of known for always having some sort of sweet treat on me.”

A pack of Haribo is placed down onto the table, alongside a red and yellow wrapped lollipop and a single bar of chocolate.

“So, you lot haven’t got any Tangfastics here- which is, I can’t even begin to fathom how you survive. Someone start a petition, please. But anyway, instead I’ve got these Zing things? Which are similar but not as good, no hate! Just the truth.”

She shrugs gently before opening the packet up and nicking one, then offers the rest of the packet outwards, smiling as a few step forward.

“These two… these are from back home.” She claims as she drags the remaining two items nearer, “The lolly is a drumstick, don’t know if you have them here, or have even heard of them, but we typically get them in mixed or party bags back home. They’re a favourite, but I reckon that’s just mainly down to my mum’s love of them. And then this,” She moves swiftly on, twirling a wrapped chocolate bar between her fingers whilst she smiles, “This is one item I can't live without. They’re the messiest things, but taste so fucking good.”

“What’s it called?”

“A flake? Usually we get them on a 99, but they do them in multipacks and in like your local.”

“A 99?”

Her eyes widen theatrically before she drops her head into her hands, “I can’t do this today. Do you really not know what I’m on about?”

8 - A blue passport is chucked up in the air and she almost topples out of her chair to catch it.

“Ha!” She grins, waving the thing about smugly before dropping it down again. “This felt so stupid to include, but I couldn’t not. I need this for most places I go; hotels, airports… sometimes even a club if I’ve forgotten or lost my ID. But yeah, I couldn't just show you a pack of Haribo and then not include my passport.”

9 - A clinking breaks up the quiet filming they’ve been wrapped up in as they move onto the next item.

“House keys!” She exclaims happily, rattling the horde of keys she now carries.

“To how many houses?”

She rolls her eyes, not unkindly, and then smiles, wrapping the keys up in between her palms. “Three. But don’t worry, they’re not all mine!” She feels the ridiculous need to make known, but she only receives a few curious glances in return.

Taking the first set between her forefinger and thumb, a silver key and brass chub, she shows them off to the camera lens, “These are to my mum and dad’s house, they let me in through the front door whenever I want. Although I guess they're more so for emergencies, ‘cause I still like to knock when I turn up.” She shrugs a single shoulder, swiping through the keys again, “Also have the one to their garage on here somewhere as well- see, it’s that small one right there.”

Next, she dangles a single fob key and another silver cut in view. “These are mine. They let me past the front gate and the other one opens the majority of whatever else. Probably shouldn't be letting the world know that.” She snorts, but ultimately shrugs before moving onto the last of the three.

“And these,” She says as she rattles the chain to reveal a rather large horde of other keys, “Are to my very first flat. I shared it with a mate at first then things evolved and changed, so we moved onto something bigger.”

“Why do you keep them?”

“Why not?” She quips, grinning down at the set, “I mean, they hold a lot of sentimental value to me. Not just in the sense that they belonged to my very first place, but the memories I made there.”

She smiles back up at the camera a second later, now holding a little lego person that had been dangling from one of the many rings, “And there’s this little guy, too. Never had the heart to get rid of him or separate him from the others, so he just stays there. He’s beyond recognition now and definitely seen some shit, I can’t lie- actually, you can barely even make out his face or the shirt he’s wearing. See?”

She holds the yellow figure further outwards. She’s right about how disfigured the thing is, but there’s a slight mohawk to be seen and a faded outline of what once would’ve been its shirt.

“Can you remember where it came from?”

“‘Course! A friend, at the time, gave it to me. I got proper jealous of the one he’d been given at some wedding or other, like, just loved playing with it whenever we were driving and stuff. I did end up forgetting I had them at times though, so he got me one of my own just so that he could finally have his keys back.”

Her laughter is contagious, and she looks to be caught up in the memory of it.

10 - “I haven’t really got a tenth one!”

Her claim is met with quiet protests to which she mirthfully shakes her head at, “Honest! I was really stressing about it on the way over here.” She chuckles before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Have you got a special mention then? Something you’d like to claim your tenth spot?”

She gives a wily little smile, as though she’s just thought of something but can’t say it. “I do.”

A silence settles, and they’re waiting for her to continue on so they can wrap up the shoot, but she doesn’t say anything.

“Well?” One of the directors asks with an intrigued chuckle, wanting to know now.

That smirk of hers doesn’t dim and so she just shrugs, “I can’t say, but they’ll know. And they’ll be so miffed they didn’t think of it first.” She almost cackles at the thought but just shakes her head instead, grinning away happily.

“They?”

“Uhuh,” She agrees and then sits up further in her chair, a sudden realisation hitting her, “You know what? I think this essentially is my ‘get away’ bag.”

“Pretty sure Matty said something of a similar degree.”

A scowl etches into her features at that and she rolls her eyes, “Oh my God. He’s such a copycat-”

…

“You have your ten essentials now.”

“I do! I have my ten essentials.” She smiles into the lens, eyes skimming over the people laid out beyond it, “Honestly thank you all so much for having me, this has actually been pretty fun. Like, sort of got to go down memory lane and whatnot.”

“Glad to have had you.”

“So, I guess the question now is, who’s on next?”

Comments:

@/user actually obsessed w her @/user so many questions 😭😭 @/user Swear I’ve seen that lighter before ⤷ @/user :link to an old instagram picture on @/the1975 account: @/user anyone see what was engraved on the airpods case? @/user A demo?? I swear if it’s one of the bands I’ll sob. @/user HER SONGBOOK. THAT PICTURE. THE FACT THAT SHE HAS OLI’S DNA JUST ON HAND ⤷ @/user They’re so cute. It hurts. @/user i want Lewis to look at my ass:/ @/user George’s lil dino kills me off 😭 @/user ‘What happens on tour, stays on tour.’ WHAT HAPPENS ON TOUR Y/N? ⤷ @/user THE WAY SHE JUST SMIRKS TOO @/user What this video’s taught me, if you need an arson accomplice yn is your gal x @/user The lego man’s shirt!! Definitely a box there. ⤷ @/user And the mohawk too?? Dead giveaway. @/user Her tenth has got to be Matty no? @/user THE WHOLE HOUSE KEYS BIT? WHAT?? Didn’t she share a flat with Matty at one point? ⤷ @/user No, they did. But also “..things evolved and changed, so we moved onto something bigger.” So WE moved… WE 🙂 ⤷⤷ @/user We’re really just skipping over “a friend, at the time” then.. Okay! @/user 6:12 That bit at the end?! They?? This has to be about Matty, right? He’s the only one who’s been on before! @/user Have they always been together? This has me so confused rn 😭 ⤷ @/user Welcome to the club lovely!:) ⤷⤷ @/user At this point I’m actually scared we’ll never know ngl ⤷⤷⤷ @/user They are my roman empire @/user Can we get one of the Derry Girls on please! It’s not a want, but a need.

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uselessnocturnal · 1 year

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you’re losing me lyrics that are shaking me to the core kinda

“i wouldn’t marry me either, a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her”

“how can you say that you love someone you can’t tell is dying?”

“i’m getting tired even for a phoenix”

“how long could we be a sad song ‘til we were too far gone to bring back to life?”

#taylor swift #you’re losing me #the way pathological people pleaser rolls off the tongue #the heartbreak when you think of ‘i rose up from the dead i do it all the time’#the way in those interviews taylor talks about how they love sad songs #exile exile exile #mirrorball people pleaser things??#oofffff #you’re losing me vs cornelia street #it’s just kinda heartbreaking yknow #i’m not that bothered by taylor swifts relationship things #but i think there’s something So Tragic about going through so many relationships #and thinking you’ve found The One and not wanting to lose them #only to for years later to end up on different pages #idk it’s just #agsjfkshfjdhfk #the saddest endings #thinking about high infidelity #‘the slowest way is never loving them enough’#that being said. the matty healy stuff is fucked up!

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icbmil · 1 year

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HBD king Ross! May you always continue to humble the lovable muppet.

#this has been a favorite interview clip since it came out #he says it with such nonchalance and it makes all the more hilarious #the 1975 #ross macdonald #matty healy #video #icbmil*#birthday post

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notanotherockstar · 1 year

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i swear it brings me no pleasure to continue talking about matty healey but when he essentially blames poc and jewish people for being offended by the comments he’s made….

why is that man literally that one pretentious douchebag you knew in high school who thought making homophobic and sexist jokes was funny except that this is a middle aged man and not a fifteen year old boy

#that whole interview was a headache to get through #like when he shamed harry styles for ‘cultivating liberal auras’ while conveniently forgetting he does the exact same thing #tw matty healy #anti matty healy #matty healy #anti taylor swift

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lestatbaby · 1 month

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he had a word processor, a failmarriage with louis du point du lac, and vampires to piss off

#inspired by a TSwift post that said “she had a typewriter a situationship with matty healy and a dream” so I did the Lestat & Louis version #interview with the vampire #iwtv #lestat de lioncourt #sam reid #lestat #samstat #loustat #lestat x louis #iwtv 2022 #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv meme #iwtv crack #vampire chronicles #the vampire lestat #mine

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june1stthe1975 · 3 months

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"['You'll never make kids pay attention in class with the world in a state of ubiquitass'] was my finest work . . . I think I've written about two lines. That and Karcrashian are kind of the two things I've ever written. It's mine, just to clear that up, guys." - George Daniel

"I was like, 'George, you're as good as me.'" - Matty Healy

#The 1975 #Matty Healy #George Daniel #screen caps #This is one of my favorites from this interview

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abiiors · 1 year

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Wired Autocomplete

Matty Healy Drabble (fem! reader)

A/N: Definitely did not procrastinate by watching a shit tonne of these interviews in the name of “research”

There’s the use of Y/n a lot of times. Sorry, it’s based on the wired interview. I can’t really find a way around using it.

This is based on an ask! (My requests are open)

‘Does Matty Healy…write his songs?’ That’s how the interview starts.

‘Yes he does,’ you both say in response at the same time.

‘He leaves his moleskins lying around all the time,’ you add on. Then you give him a theatrical side-eye, ‘drives me crazy, really.’

‘What?! You love peeking at my unfinished lyrics!’

You laugh and pick up your board again.

‘Does Y/N Y/LN…have a boyfriend?’

You both look at each other and then look straight into the camera. It’s freaky how you share one braincell sometimes because what comes out of both of your mouths is a single, deadpanned ‘No’

‘We’re best friends really,’ he continues, in all his mock seriousness.

‘Roommates even,’ you add.

It’s all in good fun, however. Your relationship is not exactly private, has never been very private. You both love to show each other off whenever you get the chance. Still, some people really do live under the rock…

‘Has Matty Healy…acted?’

His eyes go wide as he quickly says no. A bit too quick… Meanwhile, you make wild gestures at the camera, stage whisper “Waterloo Road” until he puts a hand over your mouth and both of you end up giggling like idiots.

There are a few more questions after that about his music. Then there are a few more about your career and your life outside of the spotlight. It’s instantly noticeable to you how seriously he answers questions about his music. That’s definitely one of his most endearing qualities. Soon, that section is over and he picks up the next board.

‘Up first,’ he announces and you do a small drumroll with your finger. ‘Is Matty Healy…gay?’

‘Aren’t we all,’ he replies. The crew laugh at that but of course, you knew that’s how he was going to answer that question.

‘Is Y/N Y/L/N,’ you rip off the tape with a flourish, ‘...a singer?’

‘Uh…’

‘You should hear her in the shower, mate,’ he says with all seriousness, ‘the voice of an angel.’ The hint of teasing in his voice makes you whack him on the back of his head with the board. He laughs a bit, pretends to be seriously hurt but then he picks up his board again.

‘Is Matty Healy…married…’ he trails off once the tape is off.

Your eyes widen momentarily and his go to your hand, specifically to your ring finger. There’s a blind moment of panic when you think you’ve left the damning evidence on.

‘No,’ he tries not to swallow audibly, ‘Matty Healy is not married.’

It’s not a lie…not exactly.

But he’s about to be.

The blinding diamond ring safely tucked in your purse is proof of that.

He quickly moves on to the next question (Is Matty Healy an Aries? Yes he is, he even makes a face while he confirms that). The rising blush up his neck has not escaped your attention, however.

You both know no amount of editing will stop the fans from reading into that look you just shared.

***

Two weeks later, you get a notification from Youtube while you’re laying in bed.

“Matty Healy and Y/N Y/L/N Answer the Web’s Most Searched Questions / WIRED”

The comments are almost instantaneous. There are fans who think he’s hilarious. Then there are the people who think you two are adorable together and you make sure to like some of those comments from a personal account.

That’s when you see it—

“Did anyone else notice the look at 9:56 👀”

It only has 3 replies right now. Not much traction but all 3 of them agree that there definitely was a look.

‘Look at this, love,’ you turn to him and make him take off his headphones. He lets out a proper chuckle once he sees the comment.

‘Looks like the cats out of the bag, huh?’

It is and it isn’t. Who knows, maybe the comment will gain traction. It’s only been 9 minutes since the video came out. In the meantime, he grabs your hand and kisses it right above the ring.

‘I don’t wanna take it off anymore,’ you say to him after a moment’s silence.

He smiles at you—a genuine, dazzling smile—which ends in him giving you a lingering sweet kiss on your lips.

‘So time to make it official?’ he whispers against your lips.

‘Nah,’ you laugh, ‘let the theories go wild for a bit!’

#matty healy imagine #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #matty healy fanfiction #the 1975 #matty healy drabble #drabble #asks #fluff #matty x reader #wired autocomplete #interview

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lookedlikethebins · 5 months

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holiday party (plus one)

surprise! have a (belated) holiday oneshot written on a whim because i was thinking about our producer george x TA matty this past break! just wanted to write something fun, something sweet, and see what came up! enjoy this little glimpse! [set ~4months since meeting each other] ~3k words xo

Technically, where Matty lived was considered student housing. He could have friends over for parties, could bring boyfriends back after dates—had brought quite a few boyfriends (and a few one-date-only boys) back—without issue. Matty just couldn’t bring George back after any of their dates. The new hire in the archeology department was more of a local celebrity—known for being the youngest professor on faculty, just a year older than Matty—and not the same as the international kind. Matty had assured George that it wasn’t particularly personal. Simply put (although few things Matty said were to George) if George wanted any bit of his private life to remain within his own control, be his story to tell, he couldn’t be seen wandering around campus, alone or with Matty.

With Matty’s flat off-limits, naturally, George never found it presumptuous when Matty would text George after his evening class to see if George would help grade papers that seemed to show a negative correlation between level of coherency and number of words. Actually, George sort of counted on it. He liked that Matty would invite himself over; never asking if it was okay if he spontaneously dropped by, instead wondering if George simply wanted to keep him company—to which the answer was always yes—then arriving an hour later and knocking on George's front door with said papers and a bottle of wine.

One night in mid-December, George was impatient waiting for Matty’s post-class text. He was nervous Matty would be too exhausted to come over and George would have to figure out another way, and fast, to ask Matty to join him his label event the following night. He didn't think he could face it alone—

But Matty texted, as he always did: last student just left. forgot something in my office but then i’ll be over? x

Matty arrived within the hour, standing outside his door with twice as many papers and wine bottles.

“Final essays.” Matty answered the question George hadn’t yet asked. He pecked George on the lips—George’s preferred form of hello, if he was being honest—and hurried inside from the cold.

Matty looked exhausted, as he had the past few weeks of the term, but at least he’d recently shaved. George was beginning to worry—not only about his general well-being, but Matty’s ability to grow the patchiest beard but the most solid moustache. Meanwhile, George had success with neither and was losing his own ability to grow hair on his head before thirty. Some guys just had all the luck: the looks, brains, sense of humor, charm—

“Which class is this for again? You had three of them.” George said, shutting and locking the door. He flicked off the porch lights, expecting and inviting no other visitors now that Matty was there. He followed after Matty.

Matty was back in his usual spot at George’s kitchen counter, placing one wine bottle down between the barstools before shouldering off his worn, nearly-beaten, leather briefcase onto his seat. Matty always claimed the stool closest to the wall. He began leaving—most likely forgetting—pencils and pens on the lip of the counter that extended up the wall. Even though they’d only been seeing each other for four months, George figured it wouldn’t be too much of a gesture to wordlessly replace his napkin holder with a pencil cup.

“This was the intro class. Other classes finished last week.”

“Right, right.” George nodded. This classifier helped him very little; every class Matty described to George felt introductory. Made him feel like he was sitting in the desks himself, green and confused, just trying to scramble together some foundational understanding.

“I told them: short and succinct. Six pages maximum. They don’t have to show off—I’ll know by how they write it if they are copying, bullshitting, or absolutely clueless. I took the same class—same professor—during my very first term. I know the subject and am their intended audience. I told them seven times last week the only person they were writing to was me. Not Dr. Wriley, not even each other; just me. And you know what they did?” Matty exclaimed. He threw his one empty hand up in exasperation as he looked at the top-most essay in his other hand. “They all wrote me dissertations on Euripides. Which means that I will have no time to work on my own. It’s like they heard I cancelled my trip home and thought I was just planning on fucking about.” Matty rolled his eyes. He paused, lifting his eyebrows in consideration before scowling again. “George, I swear, they gave me so much to read, I’m going to have to call my optometrist again by New Year’s. I'm going to be blind before I graduate."

“I’m sorry, love.” George said, trying to translate the regretful, apologetic look on his face into his voice; Matty hadn’t looked up at him since they greeted each other at the door. With every second that Matty stayed distracted and frazzled, George began to think his entire plan that evening was not a good idea. Not what Matty wanted to be asked after such a taxing day. "Is there anything I can do—”

“—and I know there’s no way you’ve studied the Murray and Woodruff translations so I can’t exactly ask you to read any of these for me so…” Matty paused and grumbled away alternatives to his sentence. “It’s just going to be a very long night. You can help by keeping me awake.”

“Do you have to read them all tonight? Pretty sure you can let yourself have an hour of sleep. Maybe actually have dinner with your boyfriend,” George said. “Think I can convince you of at least that?”

Matty let the full stack of essays thud onto the counter and sighed. His shoulders fell with his exhale as he finally looked back at George. Before he could respond with his usual, quick-witted quip his eyes fell from George’s face to his clothes: his pristine, pressed shirt and polished belt buckle visible just above the countertop; his necklace resting in the gap left by his intentionally neglected shirt buttons; his rings dressing the fingers wrapped around the two stemmed wine glasses; the silver earring George had accidentally taken from Matty’s spot at his bathroom sink—he only ever wore one of them anyway.

“Wait. You’re all dressed up.” Matty seemed startled by the realization. He looked down at his own clothes—a sweater, slacks, and polo combo he wore frequently when he was running on little sleep; comfort and professionalism without having to think too much—and looked back up at George with a look of panic and apology. “You’re all dressed up and I—”

“Look very handsome.” George assured him. He placed both glasses down before grabbing a bottle of wine. They were two different labels: end of term gifts from faculty or perhaps an older, friendlier student. “As you always do—usually I’m the one in slippers and joggers when you come over. Your jumper’s got buttons on it. That’s pretty sophisticated for this place, you know that.” George was hoping Matty would laugh, but concern kept his expression tight and furrowed.

“Are you supposed to be going out—am I interrupting something? Fuck! Oh, shit. Is your stupid little elbow-rubbing holiday party tonight?” Matty gasped as he looked at his watch—before gasping and swearing again. “Fuck, I’m sorry. It’s not stupid, George. I didn’t mean it like that—” His words began to gain speed and George held out a gentle hand to hopefully slow him back down.

“Don’t be sorry. Label holiday dinner parties are stupid little elbow-rubbing events. You’re completely right. Per usual.” George laughed. “But, if it makes you feel better, it’s tomorrow. I didn’t skip anything. I’m exactly where I want to be.”

“Oh. Okay.” Matty nodded.

George knew what Matty looked like when he understood something—his face relaxed and he slightly offset his jaw while he dipped his head in slow, steady nods, blinking each time. Standing in his kitchen, Matty’s eyebrows were still knitted together; his eyes were looking between his papers, his keys, his bag, and the door; and he was pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth so harshly George was afraid he’d draw blood.

“Let’s try another one: would you believe I was waiting for you?” George chose to focus on the corkscrew in his hands rather than Matty’s face as he spoke. George was being sincere and he had been waiting for Matty’s arrival since he’d texted him about his first class around noon that day, but George wasn’t sure he was ready for the look on Matty’s face when he admitted the gesture—or if he knew how to minimize the look on his own face in case the act was too much or too soppy when really Matty just wanted to come in and have a quick rant and a hasty glass or two of wine, before sinking deep into his work. George's only job then would be to make sure by midnight Matty was at least no longer in creased trousers and a belt, lounging next to George in bed while he continued to read.

“You didn’t have to do that, George. It was an exam day—and that’s always a crapshoot as to when the students all finish, you know that.”

“But exam day means end of the term, right? Well, minus the grading.” George winced as he waved the removed cork toward the stack of essays. “But that’s something to celebrate, right? You’re free—for at least a little while.”

“Oh, I see. Celebrate, huh?” Matty caught George’s attention again with a short, low laugh. He looked at George with lifted eyebrows. “You know, I’ll never understand your pretense to get dressed up when your main goal is to get undressed. You keep doing it, George. Just answer the door with about fifty percent of an outfit and I’ll get the idea a lot faster. I’m a smart man. I can handle it.”

“Yeah, because you come over after an exhausting day of teaching and dealing with end of year administrative hoop-jumping and the first thing you want to deal with is me practically steering you right to the couch.”

Matty seemed to mull the idea over. “You know, I wouldn’t hate that… But, I guess you’re right. Maybe answering the door fully clothed is a better idea. Perhaps you are sensible, George. I keep forgetting. Thank you.” Matty reached over to touch George’s forearm holding the wine bottle—and about to pour the contents all over the counter. Matty was looking at George with an expression that always took him by surprise. Made him freeze in place and thought. Made him feel in awe, for a split (hopefully) undetectable moment, of the life he’d found himself in.

Matty’s eyes were locked on George’s, not moving even as their moment of connection drug on into an extended silence while George scrambled for his next charming response—just trying to keep up. Matty’s smile was subtle, almost timid, compared to what George knew to be his full, squinted grin. It was all in Matty’s cheeks, in the subtle roundness at their peaks, just under his eyes. A small hint for George; the single location that was a giveaway to George, in an otherwise seemingly neutral expression to everyone else, he was being seen in a startling private and intimate way, even when they were alone.

George knew, once he handed over the full wine glass, he had a limited amount of time before his window of opportunity would close and the night would shift over to a blur of Matty growing chatty and trying to explain the faults of his students papers—and hopefully a few successes—while George gulped down his own wine and sounds of confusion; both of them giggling as the papers were forgotten and empty wine glasses nearly clattering to the floor as Matty climbed to sit on the edge of the counter, legs on either side of George and feet resting on the horizontal back rung of George’s chair; George only wanting to listen to the way his name sounded when being gasped and sucked in through clenched teeth—

“Actually," George began speaking before he could talk himself out of it. "there is a reason—there’s something I wanted to ask you.” George came around and sat down in his chair at the counter. Matty moved his bag and joined George, taking the other wine glass with a quiet thank you.

“Oh, yeah?” Matty kept the subtlety to his smile but let his eyes change from even and gentle to intense and direct. George was going to lose his courage—because he definitely didn’t have the will to resist Matty, sitting in his kitchen without any early classes the next morning, looking sharp and clever in his work clothes, freshly shaved, and looking at George like that without even a drop of wine in him. “What else is there you could ask me to do, George? If you’ve thought of it and I haven’t tried it, you’ll really surprise me.”

“Would you like to go with me tomorrow?” George said. He took a gulp of wine from his glass. “Be my date to my stupid little elbow-rubbing dinner.”

Matty’s confusion returned faster than before. “Wait—to the label holiday party? W-Work? You want me to go to a work function with you?”

“You asked me if I wanted to go to a faculty dinner the other week.”

“Yeah, because half the department is over sixty-five, doesn’t actually know my name, and hasn’t listened to any music that came out after the year they first started getting laid. They probably would’ve thought you taught there too! But your work… that’s a real dinner, George. Those are important people.”

“And so are you.” George said. He hated how immediate his response was, if only for how canned it sounded. He’d already thought of each of Matty’s arguments; he wanted to bring Matty to a party filled with people that pretended to know him best. If they were going to market him and his personal work (and personal life), they could at least know just who that involved. “My work is important to me, but you are too, equally so. I don’t see the issue. Sort of a natural combination, I’d think.”

“George,” Matty said with a quiet sigh of pity. “I barely knew who you were when we met. I-I should not be in a room with… with… pioneers of culture. I will make a fool out of myself, and worse, you.”

“You won’t make a fool out of me, Matty. You forget I’ve been attending these things for ten years. I used to bring ‘girlfriends’ with me. Absolutely no one has made me look more like an idiot than me at important, career-defining label functions, let me assure you.” George said with a laugh. He reached over to place a hand on Matty’s leg. “I know this is a big ask though, coming to something like this. But it’s a close-door dinner party—just, well, I guess they’re my co-workers. The boys will be there, definitely. But if you don’t want to—”

“I didn’t say that. Never said I didn’t want to go, but...” Matty placed his hand on top of George’s, his finger mindlessly tracing the ring on George’s pinky. “Am I really the person you want to bring along and introduce to... genuinely your entire social circle? Social and work circle? Talk about pissing where you eat, George.”

“Matty, I’m pretty sure everyone on the label being my friends is the example of pissing where I eat. Not bringing you to a party.” George said, shaking his head. “People asked me if you were coming, if you must know.”

“Probably because they don’t want me to be there—” Matty cut himself off with a long sip of wine.

“Matty,” With two fingers, George carefully grabbed the stem of his glass and eased it away from his mouth—without spilling it down the front of him. “First off, even if someone didn’t want you to be there—for whatever reason: you’re new, you’re not industry, you’re a man—I’d still like you to be there. Me. As my date. Not theirs... If you wanted, of course.”

Matty paused and began to bite his thumbnail. “Are you sure no one’s going to mind if I’m just… sitting there in the corner, awkward and quiet?”

“Babe, what do you think I do at these things?” George laughed. He waited for Matty to smile, his mouth preoccupied and unable to chew his cuticle, before using one finger to lower Matty's hand back down to his own lap, where George was holding his other hand. “It’ll be nice to finally have someone join me in the corner.”

Matty inhaled slowly, squeezing George’s hand before speaking again. “I’d love to go.”

“Yeah?” George’s relief—his joy—came out as incredulity. As the immediate questioning of Matty’s decision—and accidental chance to rescind his response. George held his breath but didn't have to wait very long.

“Yes! Yes, I want to go with you. Corner and all.” Matty managed to say before George kissed him.

In a breathless giggle, hands resting on George’s shoulders, Matty said he was very lucky there was a wall behind him.

#gatty #gatty fanfic #matty x george #george daniel x matty healy #producer george and TA matty fic #andfacedown fics #this isn't going on ao3 (yet) so shhh just for you guys #enjoy and thank you for indulging this au that happened bc of my stretch of listening to abiior interviews while copyediting #producer george oneshot

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