Brittany suffers through the worst flu of her life in January. After the excitement of touring the US, playing shows of her own, Christmas and New Year, her body gives out. Every muscle aches and her hands shake with exertion every time she moves. A headache that doesn't quit makes her feel constantly nauseous, the back of her skull throbbing every moment.
All she wants to do is sit in bed or cuddle up to Matty on the couch and watch movies. He's more than happy to comply, pulling her close and passing her water glass when she's thirsty. Though he knows she's getting worse when she doesn't quote the "Dinosaurs eat Man, Woman inherits the Earth" scene along with Ellie Sattler during Jurassic Park.
He's nearly hysterical when he finds her on the shower floor after she'd been in the bathroom for too long, the steam overflowing into their bedroom, and Mayhem barking excessively. The heat makes her body feel better but dehydrates her, making her faint. Turning off the water, he pulls her out of the shower, wrapping a towel around her before carrying her back to bed.
He won't leave her alone after this. He carries her down the stairs when she wants to sit in the garden with the dogs, covering her with a blanket, pulling his sweater from his shoulders, and pulling it over her head instead. He won't even let her get a cup of tea herself. After he didn't let her reach across the couch for the remote, rushing from the kitchen and yelling that he'd get it, she'd snapped.
"Matty, seriously, fuck off. Go and see George or something. You're driving me fucking insane! Just leave me alone!"
He is silent, standing there looking heartbroken before grabbing his keys and leaving the house without saying goodbye, taking Allen with him. After changing the channel, refilling her water glass, and attempting to make something to eat, she was exhausted. Looking at the staircase leading upstairs to their bedroom, they felt impossible to climb, the aches in her muscles settling in and the dizziness creeping behind her eyes with each step.
She wakes the next morning to a mug being placed on her bedside table and Matty brushing the hair off her face, feeling her forehead to check her temperature. She didn't hear him come home last night and wasn't sure if he actually did. Opening her eyes when the bed dips beside her, she can see he's changed his clothes. He's wearing one of his old t-shirts and a pair of grey tracksuit bottoms as he sits beside her on the bed.
"I didn't like how you spoke to me last night."
He's quiet but serious. She thought he'd make a joke about how she took too much cold and flu medicine and was acting crazy the night before.
"It made me feel like shit because I'm just trying to help. I've been really worried about you."
She feels totally uncomfortable with his sincerity. There's normally an underlying current of satire to his words, but not today. She apologizes quietly, and he nods, leaving the room.
~~~
After being sick, Britt's weight drops again, and they have the worst argument she thinks they've ever had because of it. He makes an offhand comment about how she feels like a bag of bones when she cuddles up to him, and he thinks he's being funny. She doesn't feel the same.
They both scream at each other until her voice is hoarse, standing at opposite sides of the room. He yells that he doesn't want to see what she looked like when she came home from LA - the photos of her coming out of the clubs were enough.
"It's nice to know that you cared! I must have missed all of your calls!"
"You were too busy posting on Instagram and ignoring everyone. I didn't think you'd have the time to talk to me," he spits at her.
She throws the TV remote at him, missing his head by an inch. It hits the wall hard, the batteries spewing out of it when it hits the floor, and he glares at her. Allen and Mayhem are barking at each other, picking sides in the argument. Matty takes his keys and exits through the garage door wordlessly, slamming it behind him. She thinks they're falling apart all over again.
Brittany sleeps in the spare room that night, taking the dogs with her. She can't be in the bed they'd usually share. She can't smell his scent on the pillow by her head and sleep soundly knowing he wasn't there. Mayhem sleeps in his permanent position by her feet, and Allen sleeps in the doorway, facing the stairs, waiting for Matty to return.
He doesn't come home for three days, and they don't speak once. She doesn't know where he sleeps or where he is, and she's too upset and too prideful to call him first. The urge to start drinking her weight in the alcohol in the cupboard scares her, so she pours it down the kitchen sink. She's never been good with temptation.
She tries to continue life as normal, but gets her suitcase down from the top shelf of the hallway cupboard just in case and mentally catalogues where all her belongings are in the house. She agonizes over where she's going to live, downloading the rental apps on her phone and scrolling through them every night she sleeps alone in the spare room.
The house is big without him, scary too. She hears things she'd never noticed before. Like how the pipes rattled after the dishwasher had finished its cycle or the way the tree along the side of the house that grew pink flowers in Spring would knock against the bathroom window. She sleeps with most of the lights on during the night, feeling like a child when she tucks herself in.
When she can't sleep, she writes music. She strums in the darkness using Matty's old guitar that was given to him by his dad. She records on her phone, the acoustic accompanied by her devastating lyrics. The silence between her words is filled with sniffles and deep sighs as she tries to regulate her breathing. She watches her phone, waiting for his call. Instead, she sees time tick by.
~~~
She's walking the dogs home from the park when the neighbors stop her. They ask where Matty is, wondering if he's back on tour since they haven't seen him for a few days. Nosy assholes, she thinks. She smiles and tells them he's working and will be home soon, but she'll let him know they were asking about him. They gasp excitedly, thanking her and letting her go home. Opening the garage door, she's not sure why she's still surprised to see the vacant spot his SUV would usually sit in.
She's starting to hate being in the house. The loneliness slinked inside and made a home within her ribcage, vining around her heart and squeezing the life out of it. She throws a few things into her open suitcase - pajamas, press-appropriate outfits, and her white converse sneakers. She's packing her makeup into a little bag when she hears the garage open, and Allen takes off, rushing to meet whoever is at the door.
Mayhem stays at her feet, whining. He's always been her baby, her little needy boy who was desperate for affection and just wanted to be by her side no matter what she was doing. When Matty had introduced her to the dogs, he'd warned her that Mayhem was insane, hence his name. No matter how much training they did, the dog was wild, rushing around the house, jumping on the furniture, and barking constantly.
As expected, he'd done all those things when she stepped inside, but then miraculously, he calmed. As she curled into Matty's side on the couch, the dog had crept beside her, resting his head in her lap, licking at her elbow, begging her to notice him. He'd still occasionally gotten up to mischief, chewing on shoes and digging in the garden, but Matty was shocked at the difference in his dog. He claimed she bewitched him, but she thought that maybe Mayhem was a little too much like his owner and felt desperate to be loved by her.
She could hear Matty greet Allen, his voice echoing up the staircase in the quiet house. The telltale sound of his keys hit the bowl by the garage door and Allen's collar jingled as he followed Matty to the second floor. Zipping her toiletries bag closed, she threw it into her suitcase and shut the lid.
Matty followed Allen into the walk-in robe, stopping in the doorway and taking in the scene. The suitcase, some of the empty hangers on her side, and drawers that were half empty. His jaw parts, and he looks like he's trying to get his words out, but nothing sounds. He doesn't look nearly as disheveled as she would've liked. He's recently shaved, and his outfit is clean. She wonders if it's new.
"You said a week, right?" she laughed awkwardly.
She thought she'd cry. She thought she would be devastated when she saw him, but instead, she's tired. Three sleepless nights of worrying about him and them, worrying about what comes next, trying to keep pushing herself forward and not feel pulled under by him again.
She waits for him to speak, to say anything. To tell her where he's been. He runs his hand through his hair in frustration when Brittany zips her suitcase closed, and she's so tired of seeing him do that. Mayhem starts whining again, nudging her as she kneels on the floor. He lays over her suitcase, not letting her take it away, and that's when she starts to break.
"I can't have what I did in LA held over me anymore," she says as she folds herself over the dog. Her dog. His fur is soft on her cheek and smells like the flowers in the back garden. She's sure if she looked at his paws, she'd see the remnants of the roses Matty has painstakingly been trying to grow ever since they bought the place.
"I cared," he starts. "You know I did."
"I know," she whispers.
They'd confessed over many nights throughout the last few years how much they remained on each other's minds. Laughing at how stupid they'd been and wishing they could make things different.
"You called me once," he confesses, and she pulls herself up.
"What?"
"When you were in LA. I actually forgot all about it until that dinner at Charli's," he scratches behind his ear nervously before kneeling on the floor with her, stroking his thumb over Mayhem's face.
"I missed the call, but you left a voicemail. You were in a club, I think, or maybe a party. I don't know, you were out," her tears have ceased, and she's hoping this story doesn't reveal something terrible as all stories revolving around her time in LA have the tendency to do.
"It was mostly nothing for the first few minutes, just music and a whole bunch of noise, but I could hear you laughing," he gives her a sad smile.
"I'd missed hearing it. Couldn't admit to myself how badly I missed you, but I knew that much. Then someone was talking shit about me, I think. I couldn't really hear that part." She frowns.
"Standard chat really," he half-heartedly smirks.
"You went nuts, screaming that they were fucking stupid. It wasn't clever or anything, but we hadn't spoken in months. I didn't expect it. Didn't know you still cared."
She's quiet while she thinks about his words. She doesn't remember the night he's talking about. Unsure of who she would've been talking to. Most of her time in those months blurs together in a mesh of plane trips and illegal substances.
"I told George about it. He listened and told me to delete it since it didn't mean anything," he laughs, but she doesn't understand what's funny.
"I'm pretty sure he tried to find you in the club the next day."
Oh.
"I'm sorry," he whispers. "I'm so fucking sorry."
She looks away from him, the tears threatening to fall again, and god, she wishes she was so much stronger when it came to him. He takes her hand, the one resting on Mayhem's belly, and holds it in his own. She thinks she's imagining it when she feels his thumb ghost over her ring finger for a second.
"Please say you forgive me. I can't be without you again. I won't do it."
She doesn't say anything, so he pushes her suitcase (and Mayhem) to the side, his biceps flexing against the weight. He crawls closer to her, their knees touching, and she looks away when his hand comes up to touch her face, resting on her jaw.
"I didn't mean any of it, I was so fucking stupid. I love you so fucking much, and I'm sorry," he presses his lips over her cheeks, her forehead, her neck.
"God, I'll do anything to fix this, please!"
She presses her lips to his gently and feels the tears leak from her own eyes. He sighs in relief.
"Matty, I mean it," he's confused.
"I can't have this held over me anymore. You all do it, and there's nothing that anyone can say that can punish me worse than I do myself, but I can't handle it anymore."
He nods, telling her that he'll never bring it up again. Begging her not to go.
She doesn't know what to do. She believes him but thinks if she leaves now, she could be okay. She'll be devasted at having to start her life again, but she could do it. She doesn't know how she'll be if in 10 years they break up. Doesn't know if she'll be strong enough to take care of herself and not fall back into terrible habits. Both options hurt, and she doesn't know if it's easier to stay.
Matty looks like he's about to break in half. Nervously searching her face for any clue as to what she was about to do next. She kisses him, always too self-indulgent to ever not be with him like this. This has never been their problem. He kisses her like she's water and he's dying of thirst. Kisses her like he's not sure if he'll ever get to do it again, and wants to make it last.
He pulls her onto his lap, running his hands all over her back, pushing her close, holding her hostage against his lips, and his hands and him. Her hands fall into his hair, rippling through the curls, sliding them through her fingers, and pulling them gently the way he likes.
She groans as his lips press against hers, and his hand squeezes at her waist. He folds her back against the floor, laying over her and continuing his assault on her neck. She pulls at his t-shirt, lifting it from his waist over his shoulders, and he detaches his mouth away from her long enough to pull it over his head. He sucks down her neck, making her gasp as she moves her hands over his back, feeling the muscles rippling down his spine and the hard planes of his stomach that tense under her touch.
Matty pulls her shirt from her body, lifting it over her head and pulling her arms from the long sleeves. He devours her bare chest the moment she's free, and she lets out a loud gasp as his tongue laps at one breast while his thumb and forefinger work the other. His jeans rub over her deliberately, and she thinks that maybe he's going to try and fuck her until she's stupid and can't ever think of leaving him. It wouldn't be the first time.
Moving his mouth back to her lips, he presses a hand inside her leggings and rubs his fingers over her, before pulling the material down her legs and off, leaving her totally bare to him. His thumb returns to her clit, making her jolt with a whine as he rubs softly. Too soft, and she's getting needy for more. He presses his lips against hers quickly with a grin before moving down her body and running his tongue up her slit.
She cries out, panting as his tongue works her into a frenzy, making her insane. He laps at her, sucking and biting while his thumb rubs lazy circles on her clit. Her thighs spread as he keeps up his unrelenting pace, she feels dazed and electrified. Then he slowly inches in his fingers, and it's all too much.
She's chanting his name in time to their thrusting, moaning wantonly as they curl inside her, and his tongue sucks at her clit violently, making her head spin. Her back arches as she hurtles closer and closer to release, pushing her hands into his hair and pulling before letting go and grabbing her own. She doesn't know what to do, can't think straight when she watches the way his tongue works her over and the way his chin glistens when he lifts his head to look at her face, his fingers still pumping in and out of her.
He doesn't look away when he goes down and flattens his tongue against her, applying pressure and licking. She comes undone from almost the sight alone, falling back onto the carpeted floor of their walk-in robe with a loud cry of his name. He keeps going, fucking her with his fingers through it and moving up her body, pressing kisses along the lines of her stomach.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he whispers against her skin, and she doesn't know if she was meant to hear it.
She pulls his face back to hers and presses their lips together. She can taste herself, and wraps an arm around his neck, holding him close while the other moves down his chest, pulling at his belt blindly. She feels desperate, feels obsessed. He pushes her hand out of the way, unbuckling himself and pushing the denim down his thighs with his underwear. She pumps him a few times with her hand, and he groans against her lips, shuddering at her touch.
Lining him up against her, she rolls her hips and whines when he doesn't push in straight away like she wants him to. Like she needs him to in this moment. Instead, he pulls his lips from hers and tells her he loves her. She closes her eyes and begs the tears that keep threatening their return to finally go away. She can't say it back right now. Matty presses his forehead against hers and starts sliding home, pushing in inch by inch, and making her back arch.
His other hand falls to her hip as he groans when he's bottomed out. Her tongue slides against his own, his hands running over her breasts, plucking at her pebbled nipples before he starts to slide out and back in again. It's all too much, feeling him pressed all over her in every way possible, the smell of him, wine and cigarettes, and being in this room.
"Say that you'll stay," he begs as he pushes in again.
It makes her cry out, his pace torturous and making her overstimulated. His tongue laves at her neck, biting on the spot that always makes her see stars, blinding her to anyone else in the universe except him. His hand runs up her thigh, up to her hip as he gives one sharp thrust.
"Say it," he grunts.
She can't. She doesn't know. Can't even begin to make that choice about him right now with him moving in and out and making her feel inside out.
His pace begins to quicken, moving faster inside her, pumping, pulling back before slamming back in and making her scream. She's so close, her eyes fluttering closed, and the edges of her orgasm claw its way into her stomach before-
He pulls out.
Her eyes wretch open in shock, and he's sitting back on his heels.
"Say you're going to stay."
She feels exposed. She feels embarrassed.
Pulling her knees together, she sits up and attempts to cover herself. She can't even look at him, or those stupid tears will fall. Why couldn't he just let her have this with him? This one moment where it was them, and she didn't have to make a choice.
"If I stay, this might break me," she quietly admits.
"What if it doesn't?"
He looks devastated but hopeful, brushing her hair off her sweaty forehead and tucking it behind her ear.
"I'm not going anywhere," he whispers. "Please stay."
Softening, she pulls his hand, bringing him back to her, and presses her lips to his.
He separates her knees, grabbing her waist and pulling her onto his lap, sliding her back down on his hard length again. She cries out, biting her lip as he moves her up and down along his shaft. She wraps her arms around his shoulders and adjusts her knees on the floor before she starts moving her hips. Matty moans loudly, wrapping an arm around her waist, pressing her against him, and moving his thumb between them to her most sensitive spot.
She rocks harder against him, chasing what he took from her before. He lifts her off him, and she cries out in despair before he presses her back down on the floor and drives into her relentlessly. He tells her he loves her, over and over, kissing her shoulder, and she finally explodes, Matty following behind her as soon as her muscles clench down on him. He thrusts through the last of his orgasm, and she whines at the overstimulation she feels at his hands.
He falls to the side of her with a groan after he pulls out. She was tired, dazed, and now that his body wasn't covering hers, a little cold. Matty lifts his head when he sees the shiver run through her. He sits up, pulling her with him, and makes them move to the bathroom to clean up.
He turns the shower on, pulling her inside the glass cubicle as steam pours from the open door. This had been one of his favorite things about the house when they'd bought it. The double shower with the bench seat and the frosted window overlooking the garden. The water warms her as Matty gently runs soap along her skin using her loofa. She can see her suitcase lying to the side in the wardrobe through the glass as she tilts her head.
Maybe it's the post-orgasm clarity, or maybe it's the way Matty is being so gentle with her, but it's hard to remember what she was so upset about. Was she really going to give this up? This dream life that she created with him, with her amazing job and their amazing house. Was she really going to be just like Mr Davis? Waiting until she was 47 before making her final decision on what she wants? The suds rinse down the drain at their feet, and she tells him that she loves him.
"Don't let me go anywhere, ok?" She begs him. "Don't let me run away."
He sobs against her neck, pressing his lips anywhere he can all over her. He promises her they'll make it work and that it'll be them until the end of time. That she's his forever girl.
When they get out of the shower, Matty wraps a towel around his waist, dumps her suitcase contents onto the floor of their walk-in robe, and throws the empty bag out the bathroom window. She can hear the splash of the pool and the dogs barking. He grins at her mischievously when he sees her slack jaw.
She's wearing his blue sweater from his mother's house when she tells him everything she's been feeling. How he made her feel, his words like knives, and the thoughts running through her head about leaving. It's hard for him to hear, visibly wincing as regret eats him alive.
She tells him how LA hangs over her and that she knows what people say behind her back. The looks she gets when she has a second glass of champagne and, god forbid, she has a third. She tells him what Louis said that night in his mother's driveway.
"He fucking said what?" Matty's furious.
"It's fine. Louis and I have already dealt with it," she promises. Matty vows to have words with his brother when he sees him next, even though Britt tells him not to.
"You fucking held us together during all that, and he wants to say shit to you?" he vents. "Little fucker should be grateful all I'm gonna do is talk."
He tells her where he spent the last three days (a hotel) and how he tried to go incognito at Primark because he was too angry at himself to come home and get more clothes. He was accosted by fans and had an unofficial meet and greet in the middle of Oxford St.
"Fucking nightmare, I should've just come home. I was being a twat."
He doesn't appreciate her joke about him stealing her go-to move of running away from her problems. He apologizes for bringing up LA, and she apologizes for throwing the remote at him.
"Aren't you meant to be some sort of darts prodigy, according to Charli? Can't believe you missed," he jokes.
"I am," she says with a smirk.
(After they head back on tour for the UK leg, she and Charli take the band to a pub, and Brittany proves how good she is. Matty promises never to fuck up again when she wins in a handful of throws, including one where Ross covers her eyes with his hands.)
(She still can't win a round of pool to save her life though, but sometimes she pretends to be worse so Matty will press up against her to help line up her shots.)
(He knows for a fact that she's not as bad as she makes herself out to be, but he's okay with this kind of lie.)
~~~
In February, they attend the Brit Awards. The 1975 are nominated again in a few different categories, and Matty almost falls apart at the sight of her in her dress. His hand holds his heart over his suit jacket, and his knees visibly weaken. She's wearing custom Dior and had been in fittings for weeks. She's glad it paid off because he was the only person she wanted to impress tonight.
They're barely seated in time for James Corden's opening monologue.
"Now, tonight, ladies and gentlemen, due to budget cuts, I've been told we've had to reduce the level of security," everyone snorts and looks around the venue to see if it's true.
"But there's no reason to panic as Brittany Jackson and Matty Healy are in the audience tonight," he points in their direction, and the room erupts into laughter.
Matty flexes the arm slung over the back of her chair for the camera while she raises her champagne glass in a toast to the audience with a wide grin. No footage ever appeared from their backstage rumble, but the rumors swirled. Many artists commented about unnecessary violence after her set that day, adding fuel to the flames. Then Riot Fest announced that The 1975 and Brittany Jackson were banned from playing in the future. It was easy to read between the lines.
When The 1975 wins Best British Album, Matty throws her on the table, knocking wine glasses and smashing porcelain plates, kissing her to the shock of every person around them, herself included. She pushes him off and shoves him towards the stage, laughing and clapping.
Matty thanks the label, Jamie, and the collaborators.
"This one's about you. You know who you are. I love you."
Charli cheers and grabs Brittany's arm, shaking it.
~~~
They have a pregnancy scare when they go back on tour. Brittany was too sick in January to remember to take her pill, and then she and Matty had forgotten protection in the heat of the moment after she was better. She'd been overly sensitive to smells, and her travel sickness had just about become unbearable.
She appeared on This Morning, as a guest of Gino D'Acampo during a cooking segment. To say it was a disaster was the understatement of the year. It had started well enough, smiling every time the camera panned to her during the quick cutaways and expertly bantering with Alison and Dermot.
Then the cooking had started. They weren't making anything difficult, just homemade pizza, so she was bound to look like a pro, but then Gino had pulled out sausages from under the bench. He sliced one end and began squeezing out the mince, squishing it between his fingers to make meatballs, and her stomach had rolled.
Gino, of course, then began a tirade, talking about how he thought Australians were meant to be tough, and shoving the tray under her nose with a laugh. She had to squat down behind the counter to preserve some dignity while she vomited into a mixing bowl. They'd quickly thrown to an ad break, and producers rushed her back to the green room where a concerned Denise and a laughing Matty and George were waiting.
"Maybe you're pregnant?" Charli had joked a few days later.
When she tells Matty, he doesn't have much of a reaction. Calmly asking if she wants him to go and buy some tests or make a doctor's appointment. They go together to the pharmacy down the street from the hotel and purchase a few different brands, unsure of the difference. Britt grabs a large bottle of water, and Matty pays for everything.
Sitting in the hotel bathroom, the bottle empty and her bladder sore, they're waiting a few minutes for the tests to turn positive. She finally asks Matty what he's thinking. He's been quiet and contemplative as he leans against the sink, his arms folded across his chest.
"I'm thinking that I love you, but it's not great timing, is it?"
She knows he's not trying to be mean; they've got another eight months of touring to go, and neither know how a baby would fit into their insane schedule.
"I want it though," he says. He kneels in front of her, sitting on the edge of the bath, running his thumbs over her flat stomach. "We'll make it work."
The timer on his phone goes off, and Matty kisses her quickly before looking to see the results. Negative. All of them. In terms of the tour, it's a good thing, but they're both disappointed. The fantasy life they created in the last few hours disappeared with every negative line on each stick. Matty throws everything into the bin under the sink, leaning against the counter again.
"It's probably for the best. I'd probably turn into my mother and leave you for George," Brittany laughs, but the tears that slip through her lashes give away her true feelings.
"Britt-" Matty starts.
"No, it's fine," she lies, waving him off and reaching for her jacket.
"I'm meant to meet Charli in a minute, so I'll see you later?" She kisses him quickly and tries to leave, but he grabs her hand.
"Hey, talk to me,"
She bites her bottom lip and looks away from him. He's always been better at talking about his feelings. She struggles to get her words out, often saying the wrong thing or being unable to convey how hurt she is. He's okay with it. He also thinks this is why she's such a good songwriter. She sits with her feelings longer until she understands them better, writing them down and then putting them to music.
He squeezes her fingers, pulling her back to him.
"If you're leaving me for anyone, we both know it'll be for Charli, not George."
She laughs, tears gliding softly down her cheeks. She wraps her arms around his shoulders, and his hands go around her waist, resting on the small of her back. "You'll be a great mum. Look at the way you take care of all of us."
She gives him a watery smile.
"Let's just get through the tour, then when we're ready, I'll take you somewhere you can pull out that tiny bikini," he kisses down her neck, and she laughs again.
She knew exactly which bikini he was talking about. It had almost gotten them into trouble last summer in the back garden. Matty had been unable to control himself, and the moans became so loud that the neighbors kept trying to peek over the fence.
"Then I'll fuck you so hard that there's no chance these fuckin' things will come up negative, ok?"
"You promise?" she sobs pathetically.
"I promise," he says, looking directly into her eyes.
She goes back on the pill, and Matty stocks up on condoms just in case.
~~~
Louis proposes to his girlfriend in April during a surprise romantic vacation to Italy. Matty acts oddly around her for the next week, his mind elsewhere until Britt calls him out.
"Do you wanna get married?" he asks, sitting beside her on the couch, Allen asleep on the floor at his feet.
"Is that a proposal?" she asks, eyebrow arched.
He rolls his eyes and tells her to forget about it. She laughs, kissing him before taking the dogs to bed with her for the night.
"I'm ok with things staying exactly as they are, but if you do happen to buy a big ass diamond, the answer will be yes, just so you know."
"So, it's gotta be big then?"
"Well, big is what I'm used to when it comes to you," she smiles innocently before going upstairs.
She doesn't see the giant grin that covers his face for the rest of the evening.
~~~
During the UK leg of their joint tour, there's a song on the setlist from the album that she never listened to that always catches her attention. There's something that plays in the background that's familiar, but she can never pick it. She listens to it that night after everyone has gone to sleep, putting in her headphones and hitting play.
There it is. The sound. A reverberated acoustic guitar. The melody is so familiar that she can't let it go. Shaking Matty's shoulder in their hotel bed, he groans loudly at being disturbed. She asks him what it is, and he pulls himself up, grabbing his laptop from his bag on the floor.
He pulls her to the little dining table in their room, pushing her into his lap and opens up the raw files. He navigates to the song and isolates the sound. The guitar plays, and it's the same melody that Jack had taught her. She looks at Matty, his eyes closed as he sits behind her. She thinks about four years ago, sitting in Electric Lady Studios with him and Jack, practicing this song.
"Is that me?" she asks.
He nods, scrolling to Spotify and opening the track credits. She isn't listed, but her porn name is. The street she grew up on and the name of her first pet. She laughs incredulously, and Matty rubs his eyes.
"Didn't you figure that out when the album came out?"
"I didn't listen to it," she admits.
"Of course you didn't," he huffs.
She starts the song again from the beginning, and Matty lifts her up, placing her back on the chair before returning to bed. He throws an arm over his eyes and falls back asleep almost instantly, but she stays up and tries to comprehend how deep his feelings have always gone when it comes to her.
He spends the next day moody, stomping around the venue. He appears after she completes her sound check with a CD in his hands. He slaps it on the table in front of her and Charli, where they'd been having dinner before he stomps out of the room again, not saying a word.
It's the album she never listened to.
The booklet inside the case is crumpled and ripped, so she opens the plastic cartridge and pulls it out. It unfolds into an A3 sized poster, lyrics scrambled across the page. Charli clears the table so they can look over it.
There are lines and song titles highlighted. Song credits underlined, and notes scribbled in the margins in Matty's messy penmanship. All the words. All the songs. Printed across the bands faces is a quote she'd heard him say before on stage, but never knew the meaning behind until now.
"This one's about you. You know who you are. I love you."
It's about her.
Not his model ex-girlfriend.
She's so stupid.
Charli doesn't say anything when she leaves the dining hall in a stunned stupor, reading over the words on the poster. She hides in her dressing room and listens to the album in full for the first time. Some of the lyrics are scathing and angry, cursing her for leaving. Some are longing and desperate, begging her to come back. There's one song filled with nothing but ego, and she knows it was written straight after New Years Eve 2023.
During her opening set, she's still thinking about everything she's just learned. The lyrics rolled around in her head, the not-even subtle references to her and them. Fragments forever cemented within the discography of The 1975.
She realizes halfway through her second song that she's practically phoning in her performance since her mind is stuck elsewhere, and she signals her band to stop. Like always, Matty's watching in the wings, and his brows furrow in confusion. The audience murmurs to themselves, and she sees the cameras lifting to catch whatever she's about to say.
What the hell is she going to say?
She drops the microphone to her side and looks around the packed venue. As more shows went on, the crowd arrived earlier to catch her set. The first few stops she performed to maybe a few hundred people at best. Now, there were easily thousands in every arena.
"Do you wanna hear something new?" she tentatively asks, and every person lights up.
Pulling out her in-ear monitors, she talks to her band quickly. There's a song she's been work-shopping, another one she'd written on the floor of Cory's apartment. The first one she'd written on the floor of Cory's apartment actually. She'd never shown it to Jack, too embarrassed and raw after everything.
She'd played it with her band before, trying to figure out the sounds and the harmonies and keeping the lyrics close to her chest. It still wasn't perfect, but maybe that's why it was so special.
She sits at the piano, sliding her mic into the holder and pressing down on some keys. Taking a deep breath, she lifts her head and looks directly at Matty.
"This one's about you. I'm in love with you."
After her set, she knows he's still grumpy, but when she drops to her knees in front of him 10 minutes before he's due to go on stage, he finally smiles.
~~~
They spend the rest of the year touring Australia, Asia, and South America. She performs as The 1975's opener, and then during their days off, she plays shows of her own. They play at festivals, record television tapings, and charity gigs sprinkled across the world. It's grueling work, and she's been worried they would fall back into bad habits.
They don't.
They spend one of their downtime days in Australia wandering around South Melbourne, going to the markets, and stopping in every record store they find. Jamie had ordered a hundred copies of her first EP with Jack to be printed and distributed for her birthday, and she and Matty competed to see who could find one first.
A man stops them on the street, and Matty first thinks it's a fan before realizing the exchange is more personal with Brittany.
"G'day, mate!"
"Hi," his girlfriend's fake smile is plastered on her face. The one she uses in interviews or when taking pictures with fans when she's exhausted.
"Haven't seen you in a long time! What's it been? 10 years?"
"Something like that..."
The man is balding and tall, his laugh loud and familiar. He watches as the guy overcompensates during the conversation, making his stories seem larger than life and exaggerating every detail. The exchange stops briefly, and the man makes a face at him, likely realizing that he is standing there with his arm around Brittany's shoulders.
"Sorry. Matty, this is Steve."
He puts his hand out, and they shake as she continues the introductions.
"We'll have to catch up properly soon! Are you still living with your mum?"
She doesn't hesitate for a second before answering, "Yep! Drop by anytime!" with a smile, and they walk away.
She's quiet as she walks, looking through the shop windows and admiring the displays. He's not sure if it's fake or not. He's pulled into a vintage store that smelled like potpourri, and as she flicks through the racks of denim, he finally asks the question.
"Who was that?"
"Who?" he makes a face. "Oh, that guy."
She studies emerald-colored flared jeans, picking at the seams and checking the pockets.
"That was my dad. Haven't seen him in a while. Probably won't ever again," she puts the denim back. "I don't know."
He'd spent so much time worrying about running into her mother that he forgot her father even existed. Hadn't even thought to ask her about the situation there. He's quiet for too long, and she sighs.
"Matty, it's not a big deal. This isn't more baggage for you to take on for me," She hangs up a slinky silver dress and moves to another rack.
"I never really had a relationship with the guy and probably never will. I'm not upset by it because it meant I got my mum to myself when I was little."
"Yeah, but look at how that turned out," he sadly remarks.
"Yeah," she smiles warmly at him. "Look at how that turned out."
His cheeks turn pink as she tangles her arms around his neck, standing on her tip-toes to reach.
"Everything that happened led me to you. I wouldn't change any of it."
"Not even the blonde hair?"
She barks out a laugh and grins cheekily at him. It's become a long-running gag in their circle, the blonde hair that turned her evil.
"Especially the blonde hair."
~~~
She doesn't cry when the plane departs Australia, heading for their next set of shows, too exhausted to do anything other than rest her head on Matty's shoulder and close her eyes. He kisses the top of her head and says he loves her while rubbing his thumb over her knuckles on her left hand. It's a stark difference from the last time she'd done this trip with him, and she's proud of how far they've both come.
~~~
Soon, the end of December rolls around again, and they're off to Denise's in Cheshire.
Christmas morning, Matty pulls a present from inside the tree, everyone in the room watching and Frank Sinatra crooning from the stereo. She's expecting another glass bauble, one to add to her growing collection, her favorite tradition.
He hands the small box to her, clearly wrapped in the store, and as she opens it, he drops to one knee.
Instead, inside lays a diamond ring. Her jaw falls open at its size, and Matty asks her to marry him. Tears fall down her face as she says yes, kissing him fiercely while he slides the ring on her finger.
It fits perfectly.
~~~
She and Matty don't separate all day. Even when they're in the bathroom, she's finishing her hair, and he's brushing his teeth after breakfast with his hand on her hip. Matty spits his toothpaste in the sink and can't even wait to rinse his mouth before kissing her again, getting the foam all over her cheeks and neck as she laughs.
She's drunk by lunchtime, her ring clinking against her champagne glass every time she takes a sip, and the music loud as they celebrate. Nobody needs to chant Nana Annie's name for them to kiss.
~~~
They tell all of their friends on New Year's Eve at Charli's flat during her party, although the rock on her left hand that enters the room before she does effectively tells them first. They all cheer and click their glasses together for them.
"To Matty and Brittany Healy!" Charli shouts over the music.
She and Matty start kissing before the clock strikes midnight.
~~~
In January, Matty books them a holiday to the Maldives. She argues over what to pack, and he only tries to bring a few swim trunks and shirts. She tries to pack summer dresses, evening outfits, and jeans, but he throws everything but her skimpy black bikini out of her suitcase, telling her that's all she needs.
"So, should I leave all the new lingerie I bought too?"
She'd never seen him move so fast, rummaging through the pile of clothing he'd dumped on the floor of their wardrobe.
"Not fair, I wanna see."
She laughs, pushing him back onto the bed and disappearing into the walk-in robe to get changed.
Matty was frustratingly right though. The whole holiday is spent in their bathers or nothing at all (just her ring, which makes Matty a little excited every time he catches her admiring it). They don't see or speak to anyone for two weeks. They turn their phones off and have all their meals delivered to the private villa so they never have to leave.
Her hair is a curly mess, and Matty's pale skin tans with each day in the sun. Of all the bubbles she's existed with him in, this one was her favorite, and she never wanted to leave.
~~~
The doorbell rings.
"Don't you fucking dare stop," she groans.
One of her legs is thrown over Matty's shoulder while he slams back into her. Her hands are pinned above her head with one of his own and she cries out when he moves his thumb over her clit. The only sounds in the room is their bodies sliding together and their moans.
It rings again, and the dogs start barking. He turns his head to their closed bedroom door as if it's going to show him who is downstairs.
"Matty, don't," she begs. "It's just the postman."
He turns back to her, pressing his lips against her own, and tries to focus. She's so close, the fluttering appearing in her stomach, and she chants his name like a prayer. He can feel her tightening around his cock and she bites his bottom lip.
The doorbell sounds again, and Matty's hips stutter as he begins softening inside her. She growls in frustration.
"Fucks sake, go then," she spits, pushing him off her. He gets out of bed, grabbing his jeans and underwear off the floor.
"Keep your hands to yourself," he threatens. "I'm coming back in one minute."
She ignores him, "Uh huh," sliding her fingers down her body, and Matty quickly slaps her hand away.
"I'm serious," he says. "One minute. Start counting."
Her eyes light furiously, "one, two, three-"
He wastes no time, rushing from their bedroom.
The bell rings again.
"Alright, alright. I'm coming!"
Britt loudly laughs as he runs down the stairs, and he scowls at her childish humor.
Opening the door, it's not the postman. It's a girl. Maybe 18 years old. She looks familiar though.
"Can I help you?" he asks.
"Uh? Does Brittany live here?"
He frowns, "Depends on who's asking."
The girl tells him her name, and he asks her to wait on the front step for a minute. Running back upstairs, he can hear the moans of his fiancé.
"You took longer than a minute," she gasps as she hits a particularly sweet spot inside herself, her back lifting from the bed. He forgets what he's doing for a moment, watching the show she's putting on for him, mesmerized by her fingers pulsing inside herself and the way her engagement ring glints in the morning light. She calls his name, tells him to hurry up and take his pants off, and he remembers what he was doing.
He runs a hand through his hair and looks away, trying to get all the blood back into his brain so he can think.
She stops moaning, pulling her fingers from herself, and sitting up, "What's wrong?"
He looks back at her and mentally acknowledges that everything is going to change after this moment.
"Your sister is downstairs."
She launches out of bed, grabbing his shirt from the floor and rushes to the window. She can see a pair of feet covered in sneakers and a canvas tote bag sitting on their front step, and then she rushes to the walk-in robe and quickly gets dressed.
"Baby?"
She ignores him, her mind whirling a million miles an hour. Wondering what her sister wants. Wondering if everything was okay. Wondering if she was about to get asked for money like every time her mother reached out.
"Britt?"
She knocks the back of her bicep, the one with the scar, on the edge of the wardrobe when she's pulling her jeans over her hips, and the blinding pain that sears through her makes her finally stop with a gasp. Matty comes, and massages the muscle quickly, telling her to take a second. She grips his arms, taking a deep breath before exhaling.
He grabs a shirt and follows her downstairs, staying a few steps behind when she opens the front door.
Her sister stands up, rolling her shoulders back, and bracing herself for whatever comes next.
"Hi," she offers quietly, fiddling with the straps of her bag.
Britt studies her. Kate looks older. The chubby cheeks are gone, and an adult stands in her place. Her hair is straight, and her sister is taller than she remembers. The polish on her nails is chipped, and gold rings adorn her fingers. There are rips in the knees of her jeans that don't quite look intentional, and if she looked closer, she thought there might be a bit of grass stuck within the fibers.
"Do you want to come in?" Brittany finally asks, and her sister nods.
She leads her to the lounge room, and the dogs come to smell their guest. Allen gives a quick sniff before going back to bed, his old age making him nonchalant about intruders. Mayhem stays behind Brittany's legs, not growling, but his haunches are definitely raised, and Matty's glad they hadn't been able to fully train him out of being a bit insane.
The girls sit in the lounge room, and Britt asks him to boil the kettle, and he nods, leaving the room. They sit in silence for a minute, staring at each other from across the sofa until her sister finally speaks.
"This is a really nice house," she offers awkwardly.
"Why are you here, Kate?" Brittany cuts to the point and crosses her arms over her chest. She won't waste her time and mental energy on her family anymore. It drowned her for years, and she suffered severely for it.
Her sister is taken aback, uncomfortably rubbing her palms against the denim on her thighs and thinking of what to say.
"I tried reaching out. Sent letters to the Dirty Hit office for a few years. They were always returned to sender, so I don't know if you ever saw them," she starts.
"I didn't."
"Oh," she softly comments.
"I um, I have them here," she opens her tote bag and pulls out a stack of letters, all addressed to her. "If you wanted to read them." She passes the pile to Brittany who puts them next to her.
"Or not."
Mayhem comes over to Kate, resting his head on her knee. She scratches between his ears, and he closes his eyes, "cute dog" she comments.
Matty comes back into the room with two mugs.
"I don't know how you like it, but I just made it the same as Britt's. Hope that's OK." She accepts the drink from him and tells him that it's perfect.
Seeing the two girls sit side by side he's not sure how he didn't pick they were related as soon as he'd opened the front door. They shared the same eyes, full lips and dark hair.
"Sorry, this is Matty," Britt introduces. "Matty, this is Kate."
He nods his head in her direction, and Kate gives him a small awkward smile. He hands Britt her mug, dropping a kiss on the top of her head like usual, and tells her he'll be in his music room if she needs anything. She nods, and Matty whistles for the dogs to come with him. Mayhem pauses in the entryway, eyeing the two girls before Britt tells him to go.
The conversation is stilted. Kate explained that she applied for a working holiday visa and planned to spend the next few years in the UK.
"I got a job in a café, and I'm learning how to make coffee, but I'm not very good," she admits.
"Ok," Britt responds, unsure of what else to say.
"I don't speak to mum anymore."
Britt doesn't look away or say anything, just letting her sister speak uninterrupted.
"She found the letters, and we got into an argument. I moved out, stayed with some friends from school, and tried to save as much money as I could so I could move here."
Britt wonders if she's supposed to feel sorry for her sister. She doesn't.
"I knew you were here and was hoping that I'd find you, and maybe we could talk," Kate hoped.
Britt remained silent. Cautious.
"Um, I guess that's it," she placed her empty mug on the coffee table and picked up her bag.
"It was nice to see you. I'm really happy that you're doing ok."
She followed Kate to the front door, and it looked like her sister was going to raise her arms for a hug but thought better of it.
Matty appears when he hears the lock slide back into place.
"She's gone?" he asks, and Brittany nods.
Moving back to the lounge room, she fiddles with the stack of letters before handing them to Matty when he asked what they were.
"You gonna read them?"
"I don't know," she pushed her palms into her eyes firmly and exhaled sharply.
"What's wrong?"
"I think I'm getting a migraine," she closes her eyes. "This is too much right now."
"What do you need me to do?"
She's silent as she thinks, trying to process her life.
"I think I want to be alone."
He tries not to be hurt, he knows this isn't about him, but he wants to be there for her.
"Ok, I can do that," he complies.
She kisses him softly, her fingers tightening around his shirt.
"I love you."
"I know."
She takes the pile of letters from his hands and disappears upstairs.
Mayhem is sitting by the front door still, and when he looks through the front window, he can see Kate standing outside their house, texting furiously on her phone. She has the same wrinkle on her forehead as Brittany gets when she's frustrated.
Matty opens the door, letting the dog run out, "Everything ok?"
She turns her head to look at him leaning against the door frame.
"Yeah, I'm just waiting on this stupid fucking Uber."
He wants to laugh. She swears just like Brittany too. Mayhem sits at her feet, wagging his tail and staring at her. Matty looks back to the staircase and makes a snap decision that might bite him in the ass later, but he's too curious not to.
"I'll give you a ride," he whistles for the dog to come back inside, and grabs his car keys. The garage opens, and he nods for Kate to jump in the passenger side.
She directs him through the London streets as he drives, and they sit in comfortable silence for most of the journey. If he hadn't known Kate Jackson was Brittany's sister, he would've figured it out the moment she started fucking around with the radio, changing the station every time an ad came on.
"Sorry," she muttered, pulling her hand back from the touch screen when he gave her an annoyed look.
He pulls up to a rundown flat, the front garden overgrown with weeds climbing the crumbling brick walls.
"Thanks for the lift," she quietly says.
"How'd you know where we lived?" He asks.
She looks guilty, "You guys are kind of famous..."
They live in a gated community with private security that he pays out of his ass for, so her story either doesn't add up, or he's about to lose his shit on an unsuspecting housing estate manager.
"I scaled a brick fence and had to run through someone's backyard. I fucked up my elbow on the landing," she pushes her jumper up her arm, and she has indeed fucked up her elbow. A piece of flesh is missing from it, and a nasty scab is growing in its place.
"Did you know that Noel Gallagher is your neighbor?'
He snorts out a laugh, nodding, and she jumps out of the car. Before she closes the door, she bites her lip and makes the same face Brittany does when she's about to ask a question she might not like the answer to.
"She's happy, right?"
"She is," Matty offers simply.
Tears well along the bottom of Kate's lashes, and she nods, exhaling.
"Maybe I'll see you around," she offers with a hopeful smile before thanking him and closing the door. He waits until she's gone inside before pulling away from the curb.
~~~
Britt emerges from their bedroom a few hours later. She lays on top of him on the couch, closing her eyes when he runs his fingers through her hair.
"I love you," she whispers, and he kisses her forehead.
She spends the rest of the day staring at the stack of letters. They taunt her, their contents unknown and possibly cruel. She vents to Matty about what they could say.
"We hate you," she mocks in a childish voice as he chops vegetables for dinner. She steals a carrot from the board as he tops up her wine glass.
"What if they don't say anything bad at all, and you're torturing yourself for nothing," he remarks.
Oh.
She hadn't thought of that.
"Why didn't you ever write me letters?" She wonders curiously.
He laughs loudly, "I'm sorry, are two albums not enough for you?"
"They could be about Charli or Carly! Or Ross' mystery one night stands!"
"I think G would kill me if I wrote a song about fucking his girlfriend in an alleyway outside the pub, don't you think?"
~~~
She opens the first letter at 2am when she can't sleep. Matty's passed out, snoring in their bed, so she takes the stack and a very tired Mayhem into the lounge room. She starts with the one backdated the furthest as the dog drops his head into her lap. She strokes absentmindedly between his ears as she reads.
The sun is rising by the time she's finished. Matty comes downstairs when she's on her second re-read, trying to piece together the information between the lines.
"Why didn't you wake me?" he pouts.
"I've been up since 2am," she says, flicking back and forth between the pages and rubbing her strained eyes. Her sister has the worst handwriting in the world.
"Baby," she looks up at him, "go to bed."
"I'm not tired," she yawns.
He sighs in frustration, bringing her a cup of tea and kissing her temple as she reads.
~~~
Brittany spends the next few days in her thoughts. She's sent home from the studio when she's in yet another daze, missing her cue on the playback again. Denise calls her, but she's too distracted, asking the woman to repeat herself more than once.
Matty's quietly concerned, keeping an eye on her as she moves around the house, deep in thought. He's so worried that she's going to spiral. He walks around the house on eggshells, not wanting to tip the scales.
"I think I want to talk to her," she admits one night. Matty's practically asleep on the couch, jolting awake at her words.
"She didn't leave her phone number though," she frowns.
"It's okay," he yawns, closing his eyes and folding himself into her lap again. "I know where she lives."
She whips her head down to his.
What do you know? He was right.
His snap decision does come back to bite him in the ass.
"You what?" she bites.
~~~
Matty drives her to Kate's flat the following morning. They sit out the front for 10 minutes while Britt builds her courage to knock on the door. She tells him he can go home, and she'll call him to pick her up when they're finished, but he waits until she goes inside before pulling away.
Stepping inside the rundown building, Kate leads her up the brick stairs to the flat she shares with three other girls. They're all on a working holiday visa, working multiple jobs to make ends meet. None of the furniture matches, and the curtains are too short for the windows, letting in a sliver of light underneath. Kate's happy though, proudly showing Britt her bedroom (that she shares with another person, but there's no judgment. Brittany has definitely slept in worse conditions.)
They sit on the lumpy IKEA sofa, drinking tea, and Brittany questions her about what happened when she left. She asks for the story of what their mother had told everyone. Kate tells her everything that she can remember.
At the end of the day, she texts Matty to pick her up, and she and Kate say their goodbyes. They exchange phone numbers when Kate asks if it would be okay to talk to her again. Matty's black SUV pulls up to the front, and Brittany wraps her arms around her sister. They hold onto each other for a long moment, before she walks out the door.
The ride home is silent, Brittany in her thoughts with tears slipping down her cheeks. He wraps her hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it. When they pull into the garage, and the engine cuts off, she finally speaks.
"Do you know that you're the best thing that ever happened to me?" she states quietly.
Matty looks at her with wide eyes. He knows that she loves him, she tells him often. What she doesn't do is make the crazy declarations like him. They've fought about it before, how he loves her so much that it makes her feel inferior because she doesn't know how to reciprocate his actions.
How can she outdo private jets from New York ("New Jersey!" "It's the same thing!" "Don't let Jack hear you say that!") at Christmas or coming home to a thousand roses when he's away, and missing her?
(Okay, even Matty admits that was a stupid idea because they didn't have enough vases, so they died quickly. Their green bin could only hold so much, and the dogs kept trying to dig in the pile of dead flowers next to it, tracking the remnants all over the backyard. Sometimes, when it rains, they both think they can still smell moldy roses.)
"The moment I stepped into Jamie's office and saw your stupid face, I knew I was never going back to Australia again," She smiles. "I was so nervous to meet you that I couldn't even remember my name, but you were too busy checking me out to notice."
He snorts, looking at his lap. She's hung shit on him about that moment before. He thought he played it so cool when actually his jaw was practically on the floor at the sight of her. Jamie had commented after a few beers, years later, that the electricity in the room could have powered up Times Square.
"I hope you know that if I had to choose between my real family and you, that you win every single time. I hope you understand that you are everything to me."
Her hand comes up to rest on his neck, and he feels like she's staring directly into his soul. Her words come from somewhere deep in her heart, and he burns under her touch.
"I know that I'm not easy to love sometimes,"
He makes a face. What she's saying is simply untrue. He's never loved anyone as easily as he loves her.
"Britt-"
"Let me just say this, just once, please?"
He nods, pulling her hand from his neck and pressing his lips to her palm.
"If things don't work out with Kate, I'm not going to fall apart. I'm not going to self-destruct into a million pieces. I know you've been worried that I would, and you don't need to. I'm okay, and I have been for a long time now, but I didn't realize it until today."
"I'd like to have her back in my life, but you, Matty Healy, are what I cannot live without. You are the best thing that has ever been mine."
He furrows his brows, and the words are familiar. "Taylor?"
"Don't ruin it," she sighs, glassy eyes searching his.
He wraps his hand across her head, pulling her to his lips. He can feel the cold metal of her engagement ring press against his cheek, and he believes her. He believes every word.
"How'd I do?" she asks when she pulls away.
He looks at her questioningly.
"I know I don't have a rooftop setting or a crowd of ten thousand people to cheer afterward, but as far as love declarations go, that was a pretty good one, right?"
He barks out a laugh, pressing his lips to hers again.
"Can I use it for my vows?" she asks, teeth flashing in a bright grin.
"Not a damn chance."
She comes back to life after the day with her sister in her crappy London flat.