@Truman_Black: hi, who's your favorite musician?
1:02 a.m.
@opheliagrey91: I'm sorry, who are you?
1:23 a.m.
//
a story in which a musician and a dancer converse over twitter.
matty healy fanfiction, I do not own the 1975, matty healy (sadly) or c...
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Ophelia's P.O.V.
Only a little over three weeks of dance practice was left until the opening night, and only two weeks and a few days until tech week. I had practiced day and night with my fellow cast members until our toes were bleeding and the bags under our eyes seemed like they had been there for years. Though I didn't smoke, I had been craving a cigarette for almost everyday now.
Matty had shown concern for my constant practicing even when I didn't have to, but he does not understand. Dancing is and will always be my passion, and this performance will hopefully prove me worthy to be a future prima-ballerina.
Matty and I began to regularly talk, to my surprise. It seems rather cliché, but we have grown to enjoy each others conversations, leading to our constant conversing. We related to many things, like our love for reading and music, as well as our love for the colder months.
It was 10:40 on a slightly chilly November evening, and I was currently in bed drinking a cup of hot chocolate while listening to the rain pour and the slight sound of "Lump Sum" coming from my speakers. A book was placed in my lap and my glasses were just on the edge of my nose as I continued to read The Phantom of the Opera: my favorite novel.
Just as I reached the chapter Apollo's Lyre, where Christine tells Raoul of her experience with the opera ghost and they plan their escape, my laptop lit up signaling an awaiting call. I clicked the 'Accept' button without taking my eyes off of the book. I already knew who it was.
"Ophelia, what are you-"
"Shh!" I snapped, putting my index finger to my lips. I could hear Matty slightly laugh from the other end, and I couldn't help but bite down on the side of my bottom lip to stop from smiling.
"Ophe-"
"Matty, do you not see that I am currently in a situation where my heart is being torn to shreds?" I asked, finally turning the the screen in distress, where Matty held his usual goofy grin.
"Let me guess: Phantom?"
He knew me so well.
"Yes, and I had just gotten to the part after the masquerade when Raoul and Christine plan their escape together to avoid Erik from potentially harming Christine. So, as you can guess, I'm quite emotional right now," I stated, closing my book and shoving it to the other side of my bed.
Matty chuckled, running a hand through the curly mess mangled on his head. He wore a black, shredded T-Shirt on his small frame with a gold chain wrapped around his neck. "I still don't understand how you are so infatuated with that book."
"I still don't understand how you have never read the book yourself," I retorted, taking my reading glasses off and putting them on the bedside table. "Besides, I never talk bad about your favorite novels."
