That 000000 & ffffff || Matty Healy

If My Heart Stops Beating

He feels guilty for thinking like this, but he misses Drew, or maybe Steve, they both looked alike anyway.

"No, It's fine," She says. Jamie kisses her cheeks before leaving, tucking her phone into her back pocket then slipping out of the bathroom and to his own apartment. It's later when he's shitfaced after the twins had pressured him into smoking and the likes when he had been a bit mopey, having fed off of Marcy's melancholy, that he gets a text.

He's halfway ready to say 'I do' in the middle of a bar where the bartender had claimed he was an ordained minister and Drew or Steve was five shots in and so ready to get married or something. Jamie doesn't recall the exact detail of how it all went down, just a few choice words of encouragement "stop being such a pussy, just take a drink," and "You're not as fun as I remembered, Jamie."

But Jamie does know that, as soon as he'd gotten the text, he had sobered up exceptionally. Not enough to make it three feet without tripping, but enough for him to press the right buttons on his phone after secluding himself in a bathroom stall.

"Marcy," he sighs in relief after she's picked up, "Oh shit, Marceline, I'm so sorry, oh fuck, what are you going to do – are you going to tell him? Shit, you have to, don't you? But he's already got Stefani's on the way, oh Jesus, Marcy –"

"Are you drunk?" she whispers into the phone, sniffling a little. "Please don't tell anyone – I...I haven't decided yet."

"Why are you whispering? Haven't decided what yet?" he rests his head against the wall when his lagged brain catches up, "Oh. Oh Marcy – how far along?"

"Nine weeks," she says, and he has to strain his ear to hear her.

"I'm coming over."

"No," she begs, "No, I'm at my dads' place, I just needed to see them is all. Go home, Jamie, get some rest, I love you," she says and hangs up before he gets a chance to respond.

-

"Nine weeks?" he asks Anna over breakfast the next day, Marcy was still at her parents' place, and Jamie's just a little stressed.

"That's what she said," Anna says. She picks at her food and plays with her lighter.

"Almost three months," he clarifies mostly to himself. "Matty might not be...I mean it could be Brian's, right?"

"Does it matter, Jamie? Marcy is seventeen years old, she can't handle a fucking baby right now – she's fucking depressed and that can cause post partum, or fuck, even anti partum – she can fucking kill herself at any moment, this isn't about any of them, it's about her! It's about...Marcy," her loud voice falters when the door opens; Jamie snaps his head in that direction, staring wide eyes at her.

"You look like shit," she says, gesturing to his messy hair and under eye bags. "Talking shit about me?" She asks jokingly as she toes off her sneakers and takes a seat between Anna and Jamie. Jamie blinks.

"No..." Her demeanor is so utterly different than that of just a few hours ago. "Alright, Marcy?" He asks, touching her forehead with the palm of his hands.

She ducks away, her nose scrunching in annoyance, "I'm pregnant not sick," she claims.

Anna sucks in a breath and Jamie is sure he's holding his own. It's one thing to get a text message about it, but it's a completely different thing hearing her say it out loud, so nonchalantly. Jamie clears his throat first, "You keeping it, babe?" and Anna kicks him under the table; he supposes he should have worded that better and less inconsiderately.

Marcy bites her lips and her cheeks turn pink just a bit. Jamie wonders what she's thinking, but doesn't question it; it's the most color he's seen in her face since her break up, he supposes. "I'm not...sure yet, I don't know. I scheduled for a sonogram in three weeks...can you guys keep this between us for now," she requests, staring up at her closest friends with wide eyes before glancing down and twiddling her thumbs. "Don't tell anyone – not Dad or Papa, or Jimmy, or fucking...Brian, shit don't tell him – and especially not...Matty." It was almost foreign to hear his name slip from her mouth. Jamie noted that she hasn't said his name in weeks at the bare minimum.