this imagine is off tumblr by the way,,and i hope it makes up for the lack of imagines
//
From the day you laid eyes on Matty, you were absolutely infatuated with him. It was the most unromantic way to meet ever, drunk and giggly and flirty in a club, exchanging numbers and sloppy kisses throughout the night. You were obsessed with the way his red-rimmed eyes twinkled in mischief, and the way his cheeks were so flushed, and the way his chapped lips looked so kissable, it had to be a sin.
Matty didn't remember much of that night, he had drank far too much alcohol than he would've cared to admit, which wasn't unusual. And even if he did remember, he wouldn't be able to say that was the day he fell in love with you. In fact, if he was being completely honest, it was mostly your breasts that caught his attention from the start. No, the first time Matty felt himself fall for you was your first official date. Everything about you was positively endearing, from the way you said his name, to the way that if you could describe yourself with any two words, they'd be punk rock-even though you were admittedly not very punk rock at all. You reminded him of someone straight out of a magazine. Like somehow you just already were the person that you were meant to be. Matty loved the way you always texted him back as soon as you got home, and how you were already going on a second date before the week was up.
You'd been together for almost three years now, and had always considered yourself nothing less than soul mates. Your twenties had essentially revolved around him, spending every free moment you had talking, breathing, thinking Matty.
Lately, you had felt the effects of the honeymoon phase fading. Whether it was the stress of college weighing down or the fact that you were just growing up, it felt as though Matty's once endearing behaviors were becoming more of a nuisance on your life.
You felt guilty for the how irritated Matty's presence was making you, particularly this evening.
You knew the minute you woke up that it wasn't morning yet. Your eyelids felt heavy. As you peeled them open, the darkness only further proved your point. Everything inside the house was silent. But from outside, you heard a car alarm going off. You could feel your heart starting to beat along to the rhythm of the alarm, and your tongue felt numb with the inevitability of who had set it off. You flip the comforter off from you and let your feet touch the soft carpet before padding out of the bedroom and down the stairs.
The alarm still hadn't gone off by the time you reached the kitchen, so you grudgingly grabbed your set of keys from the bowl on the counter, and slipped on a pair of sneakers before going outside to check on the commotion.
Sure enough, Matty wondered around outside of the car, tugging on the handle and banging on the windows drunkenly, as if that would stop the alarm.
You watched for a moment, assessing just how shit faced he truly was, before snapping the alarm off.
He let out what looked like a sigh of relief, thinking he did something to shut it off, before turning towards the door and making eye contact with you.
"Babe-" he says surprised.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" you mutter, almost to yourself, before turning on your heels and strutting back inside. You hear him stumbling after you, knocking into the door before successfully entering the house.
"I thought the house was locked," he slurs, "so I was gon' sleep in the car for the night- but then that was locked too."
In the light you can see the red outline rimmed around Matty's eyes. It reminds you of the first day you met him. His pupils are bulging like a wild animal's. Instead of entrancing you and pulling you in for more, they just look pathetic. Like the eyes of a sad, lost boy. He's trying his best to focus on you standing still. But you begin toeing off your sneakers and decide you're just too tired to care.
"Where you going?" he asks innocently as you begin to climb the stairs.
"To bed," you snap, not even bothering to turn back around. The digital clock on your nightstand reads 2:47am and you lay awake, staring up at the ceiling, remembering the days when you and Matty would stay up well past 2:47pm together. Matty was the one who introduced you to the concept of a night life. Before him, you'd been content with going to bed at a normal hour. You remember it being so exciting at first. The parties, the alcohol, the drugs. It was a foreign world that you delved head-first into, Matty by your side the entire time.
You were twenty four when you met Matty. You were young, excited, impressionable. Now, three years later, the original glamor had worn off. The health effects had caught up to you; things like huffing after climbing one flight of stairs, and building up an increasingly large tolerance for alcohol. You'd cut back for your own good and you'd stopped attending so many parties with Matty. The only problem was, you'd thought Matty would follow suit. You'd thought that his late twenties and your sobriety would hit him with veracity and he'd grow up a bit. You were wrong.
"You're twenty seven," you said to him, "Aren't you a little old to be getting so stoned?"
Matty got defensive whenever you mentioned cutting back on all the dope he did or alcohol he drank. So you left it alone. It wasn't worth the battle.
A few moments later you heard Matty trudging up the stairs and into the bedroom. His shadow moved around the room until he was on his side of the bed. He collapsed onto the mattress beside you, his scent filling up the room.
You turned over on your side so you'd face him, hoping maybe you two might be able to talk tonight. You admitted to be a major contributor to the increasing distance between Matty and you, but you also wanted to make things better. You felt like you were willing to put in an effort when the same wasn't always said to be true on Matty's end.
He was already breathing steadily in and out by the time you rolled over. His eyes were shut closed and his hand rested on his rising chest. You let out a heavy sigh. In earlier years, you would have rolled into his side, laying your head on his chest or nuzzling his neck, planting soft kisses over his exposed skin. But tonight you looked at him and shook your head. You were disgusted with the smell of vodka reeling off from him and instead, you curled as close to the edge as you could get and rolled over, your back facing him.
...
You're woken by another alarm in just a few short hours. This time the noise is coming from the phone charging on your nightstand. You sigh before turning if off and sitting up. You rub your eyes grudgingly before getting up to get ready.
You flip the light on as you hover outside your closet, starting the great debate of what to wear for the day.
Matty groans in the bed, pulling the sheets over his head and mumbling something incoherently.
"What?" you ask.
"I said shut the god damn light off," he barks, his face makes a reappearance as he flashes the covers up briefly.
You roll your eyes. "Just give me like fifteen minutes."
"Jesus christ," he snaps before flopping back down onto the mattress.
"Fuck off," you mutter, "if you went to bed at a normal time, you wouldn't be so pissy every morning."
Matty shoots back up at that, "Don't fucking start lecturing me. I can't take anymore of that shit."
"I'm not lecturing you," you explain, "I just wish you wouldn't drink so much."
"You sound like my fucking mum," Matty says. You gaze at his skinny figure hunched over in the bed. He's digging into his eyes with the heels of his palm, rubbing what you would assume is the itchiness, away.
You think back to the first night you and Matty had slept together. It wasn't long after you met. The third date. He took you to a movie, and he had bought a popcorn for the two of you to share, but you ended up eating the entire thing yourself. You remember dancing your way to the theater in parking lots and back streets, twirling under the lilac sky to nothing but each other's laughter. You knew then that you'd met your soulmate.
He took you back to his apartment, nothing but a lumpy mattress on the floor and maroon sheets covered in lint. He had no furniture or food or running water for all you knew. But the way he cupped your cheek so softly and held you like the most delicate piece of art he'd ever seen, was enough. It was enough for a lifetime.
Or so you'd thought.
You finally look down at your own hands in the mirror, a wave of nostalgia washing over you.
You briefly contemplate shutting the light off and rushing back to bed. You can imagine yourself tackling Matty down to the mattress and planting kisses all over his face and collarbones like you used to. You'd blow off class and just stay in bed all day, limbs wrapped around limbs, breathing each other in. Just like you used to.
But Matty acts first. His voice cuts through the air like a knife being thrown straight into your chest, "Are you ever gonna pick something out or am I gonna be blinding by the goddamn light all morning?"
You can feel the pressure of tears coming on, but you let the anger blink them back. You glare at him through the mirror for a moment before grabbing a sweatshirt and pair of pants from your closet, and snapping the light off.
Neither of you say 'goodbye' or 'I love you' like you used to. The only noise of departure is the slamming door and your footsteps trudging down the hall.
...
You walked through the door that evening after the busiest day of your college career to a bouquet of flowers sitting in the center of the counter. The assortment of carnations and roses was intricately placed and woven between one another. Your favorite.
Matty was always buying you flowers as a way to apologize. He knew how happy they made you feel. But tonight, you stared at the beautiful red pedals and felt nothing.
...
You never considered the possibility of falling out of love with Matty. You knew from the first time you met him, that he was your soulmate. The one who made you feel most alive. He was the light of your dark tunnel of a life. The one who picked you up and spun you around. Matty was everything.
But you put extra emphasis on the past tense part of that statement.
...
"Where do you wanna eat?" Matty asks. He's driving around downtown, one hand holding the steering wheel, the other a cigarette. He knew how much you hated him smoking in the car.
You shook your head and continued to stare out into the dark night. "I don't care."
"Helpful," he muttered.
Instead of commenting back, you just leaned forward and turned up the music.
...
"Oh come on! Don't be like that all the time!"
"Don't be like th- Don't be be like that all the time? Excuse me? Who is being a pain in the ass all the time lately, huh?"
"Well it for sure isn't me!"
"Oh yeah, true. Because you're never around."
"Don't even go there!"
"Oh I will go there! When was the last time you didn't go out drinking with George? Or shooting up with fucking who knows who?"
"If I remember correctly, you used to love going out with us. Wasn't so bad back then when you were the one getting high all the time!"
You took a deep breath as you turned away from Matty. You used to absolutely hate fighting with him, it'd make you cry and feel guilty and awful for hours. But lately all they did was fight, and you couldn't bring yourself to feel bad about it. You had genuinely come to hate the time that you spent with him. And if you were being honest with yourself, you had genuinely come to start to hate him.
"I think we should break up." You blurt the words out without processing them in your mind, but the minute you do, you feel a wave of relief washing over you. You hadn't been thinking about the specific phrase "break up", but the concept of a life without him had become your reality.
If it had been years before, you would have broke down crying. You were never good at confrontation, but over the last few months of your life, you had learned to suck it up and compose yourself.
You realized immediately that you should have just walked out then and there without even looking at Matty. It would have been easier, and you'd already be packing the car up by now. But instead, you were facing him, and you knew it was going to be too hard.
His face had fallen. And he was crying.
Heavily.
His small, tattooed chest was heaving with such force, that you thought his ribcage might burst open.
"Babe.."
You shook your head, closing your eyes and breathing out deeply through his nose. You can do this. You can do this. No you couldn't-
"Babe, I love you."
You start shaking your head, sympathetically, your heart beating heavily in your chest. You stared at Matty, whose lips were quivering like a child who wasn't getting what he wanted, and you felt the sting in your eyes that had been missing earlier. And you became suddenly aware that you, yourself, were crying, and knew that you had to leave right now or you would never be able to.
"Matty." you said, voice cracking from the emotion bubbling behind your throat. Your hands shook.
"I mean it. Please, for the love of God, don't leave. I'll change, I can be better, I-I can love you more than anything and take care of you.." Matty pleaded, fingers wringing around your wrists then, something you knew meant he was nervous. Your heart clenched then, as you realized how much that you knew about him.
"I can't." you said.
"Please don't leave me.." Matty cried, eyes closing as more tears fell down his cheeks. "You're the love of my life. I can't live without you."
You felt your entire body start to shake as Matty's soft words washing over you. This wasn't how you wanted to hear all of this. You wanted to have the words said in a different environment, to know that they were real. You closed your eyes, and the first thing that popped into your mind was Matty wrapping his arms around you after your first date. He planted a sloppy kiss on your lips and told you that he knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life memorizing the color of your eyes and for the first time, you felt so, so loved.
"You're just saying that." you whispered, eyes still closed.
"No, no, no." Matty tittered, and you sucked in a gasp as you felt Matty suddenly right in front of you.
"Baby, you're my everything. I love you more than anything." Matty's breath was warm across your cheek as he spoke, it smelled of cigarettes and wine.
His calloused fingers ran over your cheeks, and you knew you wouldn't be able to do this.
"Y/N.." Matty mumbled, face closer than it had been in so long.
A tear fell down your face just as Matty pressed his wet lips against your own.
More tears fell from your eyes as you closed them again, letting yourself fall back into the kiss and the vicious cycle of being in love with Matty Healy.