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toomuchracket · 8 months

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when i found you, much younger than you are now (flatmate/dad!matty x reader)

ten years of self-titled!! can u believe!! anyway, a little fluffy drabble about the day the album was released, and also about the day it turned ten, as voted for by you guys. enjoy!

2013

when you enter the kitchen, the linoleum floor cold even through your fluffy socks, matty is staring at the fridge. namely, at the thing pinned between two shitty manchester fridge magnets - a futile attempt by you to reduce your shared homesickness when you moved down south.

he's staring at the calendar, which under today's date reads "75 album release day!!!!" in your handwriting, adorned with as many lovehearts and stars and smiley faces as you could fit in the tiny box.

not that either of you were at any risk of forgetting the date, mind, but you thought it would be cute to commemorate it anyway. "you can keep it as a memento in the future," you had said, as you wrestled with the paper and the bumblebee magnet and the laws of physics while putting the calendar up. "when you're living in a malibu beach house in a decade, married to a supermodel, you can look at that calendar and think of the day your first album came out. and maybe also of me, back in london, or manchester, or maybe edinburgh... i don't know where exactly, but most likely on the other side of the world from you and your gorgeous wife. it'll be cute!"

(neither of you thought it was cute whatsoever, though.)

matty turns when he hears your half-shuffling footsteps, face twisting into a sleepy smile that splinters your heart. he opens his arms as you near him, pulling you into a washing powder-scented hug and resting his lips on your hair. "hi, darlin'."

"hi," you murmur into his sweatshirt. "happy album day."

"thanks," you feel matty's cheeks twitch into a smile against your head. "feels quite surreal, honestly. we have an album out. mad."

you caress the space between his shoulder blades. "i can imagine - it's insane for me to even think that my best friend in the world has an album out. m'so proud of you though, babe."

"couldn't have done it without you, sweetheart. oh, that reminds me..."

matty breaks the hug - and, in the process, your heart - to reach for one of the CDs piled haphazardly between the radio and the kettle. he hands you one with an all too familiar cover art, accompanying his "here" with a grin.

"matty, i said i would buy it!" you protest. "i want to be a part of getting you a number one."

"that's cute, babe, but nah," matty folds his arms and smirks. "there wouldn't be an album without you, because there wouldn't be EPs without you and your room at uni. so, the boys and i figured that you were the perfect person to get the first album CD actually made."

your eyes fill with tears at the ridiculously sweet, ridiculously too generous gesture. "wait, really?"

"i mean, it was my idea, of course," matty winks, which earns him a shove on the arm. "but yeah, that's the very first 1975 album disc. open it, darlin', look at the lyric booklet."

sniffling, you do as requested; your sniffles turn to full-blown sobs as you take in the "to our favourite girl. thanks for the love (and the pints) xx" dedication written on the first page, sobs which only increase in volume as you take in the lyrics, handwritten by matty rather than typed.

you gently place the CD and booklet back on the counter, and pull your sweetly-smiling best friend into a teary hug. "thank you, sweetheart. i feel very special."

"you are," matty replies, tenderly stroking the back of your head. "you're the most special, to me."

your heart jolts at that, and you squeeze matty even tighter, pull him even closer to you. but it's not close enough to satisfy you, it never is - nothing short of his skin cells grafting to yours and consuming them would stop your heart and brain and nervous system aching for him.

well, a kiss would probably do it, but that's far less likely to happen.

the painfully tender moment is interrupted by matty's back pocket buzzing, which provides a blissful relief from the thoughts about kissing your best friend that were beginning to awake from their dormancy. alas, the relief is short-lived - matty sighs in your ear, and murmurs "will you get that for me, sweetheart? don't wanna let go of you."

with a hopefully-unnoticeable gulp, you slide your hand down matty's back and into his pocket to pull out his phone. you squint at the caller ID. "s'george."

"should probably speak to him, i s'pose," matty says, planting a final (and devastating) kiss to your head before letting go of you and taking his phone. "are you gonna go and listen to the album while you get ready for the party later?"

you grin sheepishly. "already bought and listened to it on itunes."

"you're incorrigible. but i love you."

"ooh, big word! i love you too," you smile. "and tell george i love him too, and i can't wait to celebrate with you all later."

matty winks. "will do, darlin'."

you wink back and grab your CD, turning on your heel and wandering to your bedroom to begin the arduous process of getting ready for the album release dinner and subsequent party. it goes by quicker than usual, though, soundtracked by the boys, punctuated by congratulatory texts to and from ross and george and a half-hour congratulatory phone call with adam, and powered by the excitement of knowing you can be extra affectionate with matty today and it won't be weird.

it goes by so quickly, in fact, that you're almost completely finished your makeup when matty peers round your slightly-open door. "hey babe, would you mind- oh, wow, you look gorgeous!"

it's almost embarrassing how warm your cheeks get at that simple statement. you swivel to face your flatmate, smiling bashfully. "thanks, sweetheart. i was a bit worried the eye makeup was too much for dinner, but i've committed to it now, i s'pose."

"no, it's perfect," matty says softly, coming into the room and perching on the end of your bed. you're perfect, he wishes he could add - it's cliché, but god, is it true. "i love it."

your cheeks burn, and lift of their own accord. "i'm glad."

matty smiles back just as widely as you. there's a pleasant silence for a moment, reluctantly broken by you before matty forgets his train of thought. "did you want to ask me something, babe?"

"oh, shit, yeah," matty nods. "would you mind - if you have the time, that is - drying my hair for me? can never get it to sit right. but like it's cool if not, i can do it myself, i just like it more when it's you doing it and-"

"matty," you interject, before he talks himself unconscious. "of course i will. just let me do my lipstick first, yeah? then i'm all yours."

all his. christ, what he wouldn't give. "take your time, darlin'. thanks a lot."

"s'no problem," you say, turning back to your dressing table and rifling through a pile of lipsticks. matty smiles as you open a few in turn, furrowing your brow as you wordlessly narrow down your colour options; the smile is wiped clean off his face when you drop your jaw and swipe a dark pink over your lips, forming them into an O as you make sure the lipstick is applied perfectly. fuck. your mouth.

(the lyric from talk! is most definitely about you, but he'll never tell.)

after the most agonising minute of matty's life, you turn around to face him. "ok, i'm finished making myself pretty. your turn, babe."

"you're always pretty," matty says, kissing the top of your head as you stand up to let him sit in the chair; he finger guns towards his reflection as he does. "and so am i."

you roll your eyes. "maybe it's best if the album doesn't go to number one, actually. your head might explode, healy."

"best make sure my hair looks good then, babe."

"when has it not, when i've styled it? it's me you're talking to, not george."

"fair point."

with a wink to him through the mirror, you rake one hand through matty's hair and aim the hairdryer at it with the other. he closes his eyes, sinking back into the plush seat, enjoying the soothing combination of warm air and your gentle touch - your nails lightly scratch his scalp the way you know he loves, and he hums contentedly. fuck the dinner, fuck the party, fuck celebrating the album; matty would be happy just to stay like this forever with you.

you'd be happy with that too, to be honest.

matty slowly opens his eyes as you put down the hairdryer and finish shaping his hair with your hands. you crouch to get the back looking just so, then rest your chin on his shoulder and smile at him through the mirror. "beautiful boy."

tilting his head so it rests on yours, matty beams at you through the mirror. "thanks, sweetheart. we do look quite hot, don't we? we should memorialise it, i think."

"now? we're not even dressed for tonight yet," you say, as matty pulls his phone from his pocket and opens the camera.

"trust me, babe, this is just the first of many pictures i intend to take to document this very important day. and the first of many pictures i intend to take of you, looking all hot and glamorous."

"charmer. alright, take the pic."

"alright, darlin'."

2023

when you enter the kitchen, the déja vu of a moment from a decade ago practically smacks you in the face. never mind that it's a different house, with a different kitchen and a different floor (tiled, not lino, but still cold under socked feet).

just as he was exactly ten years ago to the day, albeit with different hair, matty is staring at something pinned between two shitty manchester magnets on the fridge (also different - a smeg you were embarrassingly excited about buying when you and matty moved here). rather than the calendar from before, though, it's the picture the two of you took while you were getting ready to celebrate the album release.

again, matty turns to smile at you as you near him - well, as best he can with a toddler clinging to his leg and a 7 month-old baby in his arms. you can see in his eyes that the déja vu is getting to him as well. that, and the way his smile widens as he says "hi, sweetheart".

"hi. happy ten years of your first album," you grin, moving closer to kiss him quickly. dylan lets go of her dad's leg and raises her arms towards you; when you pick her up and kiss her cheek, she giggles and hides her face in your neck. smiling, you do the same to elena, who beams mostly toothlessly at you in response. "and hello to you too, my babies! were you good for daddy while mummy was at work?"

soft curls tickling your neck tells you that dylan is nodding, an action matty copies enthusiastically. "they were perfect," he says, booping elena on her tiny nose and making her giggle - your favourite sound on the planet. "they take after their mum, of course."

you roll your eyes. "ever the charmer, healy."

"you know it, healy," matty grins, relishing the chance for acknowledgement of your shared last name, the same way he's done at any opportunity since you took it as your own four years ago. "we were just talking about mummy, weren't we, dyl? how in that photo she thought i was going to be married to somebody else by now, but daddy always knew he wouldn't marry anybody but her."

your heart glows with overwhelming love for matty and his words; it quickly begins to burn with embarrassment at your past utter cluelessness, though. "well, i genuinely didn't think you liked me in that way, the way i liked - like - you."

"silly mummy," dylan giggles, playing with the pendant on your necklace that bears her first initial, as well as those of her father and sister.

you tickle her little tummy, and the giggles increase tenfold. "silly mummy indeed!"

your toddler's giggles fade into little hums, and her tiny face turns placidly serious as she looks at the picture of her parents. "but pretty mummy."

"the prettiest," matty agrees, trying his best to extrapolate elena's tiny fist from one of his curls.

"well, maybe in a few hours, once i'm ready for the party," you say, stepping forward to save your husband's hair from his mini-me's grip. it takes you both a minute, considering you're both operating with only one daughter-less limb, but matty's curls escape mostly unscathed from your baby's possessive grasp. elena might be a matty clone, but she really is your daughter, no doubt about it. "which i really should start working on, considering everyone will be here in... three hours. will you all sit with me while i do my makeup?"

"of course we will," matty nods, holding out his free hand for you to take with your own. "lead the way, wifey."

for the second time that day, although you're sure there will be many more instances of it, there's an overwhelming familiarity to the scene in your bedroom. with the exception of dylan sitting on the vanity, copying you and pretending to put her own makeup on with one of your clean blush brushes, and elena doing tummy time on your bed and babbling away happily, the process is much the same as it was exactly a decade ago - enjoyable, quick, interspersed with excitement and texts and calls from your equally-excited friends.

the soundtrack is also different, although it's still matty singing; instead of the songs about, well, drugs and blowjobs that had scored your pampering in the past, he's doing a medley of disney songs, nursery rhymes, and... "babe, is that britney spears?"

mirroring his youngest daughter and lying on his stomach on the bed, matty glances up, eyes gleeful. "yeah! lena loves it. look - oops, i did it again, i played with your heart, got lost in the game, ooh baby baby."

true enough, elena shrieks with laughter and taps her hands against the duvet in accompaniment to her dad's singing. you laugh too, picking dylan up and moving to sit beside the other half of your family. once you're settled, you scoop elena into your arms and sit her against your knees. "you have such good taste, my girl!"

"mmm, so do i," your husband hums, looking at you with barely-concealed attraction in his dark eyes. "you look gorgeous, darling."

over ten years of matty compliments, and they still shoot straight to your knees and turn them wobbly. you lift your burning cheeks in response. "thanks, sweetheart. you're not too bad yourself."

"you think so? because i was going to ask you about fixing my hair again-"

"i honestly don't think it needs it, babe."

"really? well, in that case," matty reaches back to grab his phone from his back pocket, before rolling to a sitting position and tugging dylan into him. "scootch in, then."

dylan watches her dad open the camera app. "photo now?"

"yes, munchkin."

"but my dress!"

"oh, you're your mother's daughter right enough," matty smiles. "we'll take one picture first, dyl, and then you can go and put your dress on in time for your aunties and uncles and cousins arriving, yeah?"

"ok."

"that's the spirit," matty ruffles his toddler's head, before putting his arm around you. "say cheese!"

after his girls oblige, dylan moves round to talk to her baby sister, while matty opens the picture to see how it turned out; you lean in and rest your chin on his shoulder again so that you can look too. "oh, matty, look how cute we all are!"

"definitely fridge-worthy," matty laughs, kissing your temple. he leans back slightly to look at you, bringing a hand up to lightly caress your hair. "i can't believe it's been ten years. for both the album and the two of us. although they always went hand in hand for me, to be honest. constantly thought about you while i wrote it. and i still constantly think about you now."

you press a quick kiss to matty's lips, wiping away your lipstick stain with your thumb - matty tries to kiss it as you do, which earns him a laugh and a "matthew" from you. "i love you, baby."

"i love you too, sweetheart. here's to the next ten years."

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