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sunsetinmyvein · 4 years

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I Know That I’ll Lose - Chapter Ten - It Took a Little While to Recognise

A/N - This chapter was heavily inspired by this tune.

By the time he walked off of the stage that night, her brain was mush. He really did seem to know how to push her buttons and the amount of effort that it had taken to not cave all day to his tormenting was starting to take its toll. She should just tell him. Just tell him that she was, indeed, into him and then she could go back to living a normal life without Matty hell bent on destroying what little remained of her willpower. Hell, maybe she would even get something out of that obnoxious boy in exchange. That might be nice. It would probably be the straw that breaks the camel’s back and sends her into a coma, but it would be nice until then. However, before she even had the chance to find Matty in the green room after the show, Ross informed her that he’d already gone back to the bus. And by the time they’d gotten back to the bus, celebrations of ending the tour were already in full swing and the man of the hour was being pulled in every which direction. It irritated her that by the time she was finally in a mental state to want to get it over with and just tell him, she couldn’t. But, for Matty, that was the whole intention. He had realised while he was on stage for the final show that his solution to not knowing what to do when she finally told him, was to not let the bet end when the tour did. If he could draw it out, he had a reason to draw out their time together. Even if the bet felt dumb at this point, it was his best reason to ask her to stay in his life. What excuse did he have once he didn’t have that? Nothing. And the thought of not getting to see her anymore stung a lot more than the thought of not winning the bet. So, this would have to do. He’d avoid her until they went back home and then play dumb about it. That sounded reasonable enough. Which left her ending up deciding to hang out with the other friends that she had made on tour for the rest of the night instead, much to her displeasure.

But just like that, tour was over. She’d survived. Matty hadn’t won the bet. She got her pay packet for the merch work that she had done. Her bags were packed. It was time to go home. The flight that she had to catch to get back home was leaving sooner than Matty’s was, which left her with the awkward situation of having to be the first to say goodbye. Most of her proper farewells with the band and crew had been exchanged last night at their closing party; that way she didn’t have to try and get around to seeing all of them before a mid-morning flight. But other than still being a bit bitter about not seeing much of Matty last night, she didn’t overly want to say goodbye either. Saying goodbye was hard. Especially to someone who you didn’t want to leave, but also didn’t want to admit to them that you didn’t want to leave them. It was literally as she was standing on the street, waiting for her taxi with her bags in hand that she finally realised she had no time left to continue putting it off.

“It, uh…” She turned to the boy beside her, trying desperately to find half-decent sounding words. Should she tell him now? It didn’t feel like the right time. There probably would’ve been a ‘right’ time last night if Matty wasn’t so annoyingly popular. But it was too late for that now.

She let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding as she finally just bit the bullet. “Thanks for inviting me out on tour. It was really fun.” She said, trying to give him a genuine smile despite finding the moment quite bittersweet.

“I’m really glad you came out. Was nice havin’ you here.” He nodded as he took a drag on his cigarette. There was a lot more that he wanted to say, but he needed more time to think on the most eloquent way to express those thoughts.

The silence hung between them for a moment. “So… um…” A deflated sigh was all she could muster as she watched her taxi roll up to the curb. “Guess this-”

“I’ll see you soon.” He interrupted, dropping his smoke onto the ground and extinguishing it with his shoe.

Will you? “Oh, okay. Cool.” She finished, unable to stop herself from grinning a little bit at the thought. “In which case, see you then.” She chuckled as she hugged him briefly. He hugged her back tightly, trying not to dwell on it too much. As he moved back, he flashed her a bright grin, before wishing her a safe flight and watching her cab drive away.

It was difficult for Matty to stamp his progressively harder to ignore feelings into the dirt and just disregard everything until after she had left. But he felt that if he made this tour as final as it was about to be, then that’d be it for their friendship. And as much as he struggled to work out exactly what he wanted; he knew he definitely didn’t want that. So, he said his half-goodbye, packed his bags and flew home with his friends hoping that he could work through all of his messy thoughts in the comfort of his own home. Except, his thoughts only seemed to end up even more muddled as everything gradually came crashing down around him over the next week after arriving at home. He knew that he’d been giving a few mixed messages in their last 48 hours together, but despite that he had sort of expected to hear her from her a decent bit within the few days after they got home. What he hadn’t expected was radio silence. He’d received a few messages from her when she landed, confirming that she was at home safe and sound, and then nothing. No texts. No calls. No social media posts. Nothing. She had mysteriously dropped off the face of the planet. Even her last online times had been offline for so long that they no longer displayed anything. It wasn’t like her. Had he been wrong in hoping that their social withdrawal would be mutual? It was slightly easier to deal with the lack of company when he had been expecting it to drop off a bit, but it still wasn’t sitting great overall that he had been forced to give it up cold turkey. He didn’t want to say that he was worried about her per se, it was just very uncharacteristic and it had him on edge. He had to keep himself distracted.

So, he hung out with the band as much as he could, caught up with family, saw friends. Anything and everything he could think of to do now that he was back at home - he crammed into his schedule. But it was at night when his thoughts plagued him the worst. When his friends finally went to bed and he was left by himself, scrolling through his phone. What had he done wrong? It was after about six days of no contact that a photo had been put up on Instagram that she was tagged in. He frowned down at his phone as he opened it. It was a photo of her with some dude in a field somewhere. They were looking awfully… close. Matty inspected the photo carefully. They weren’t kissing, or hugging, or doing anything couple-y, but they were both clearly having lots of fun. Was this why she hadn’t spoken to him in days? Because she was off with some guy she was seeing? As soon as the thought entered in mind, he felt like the floor had been ripped out from under him. He clicked on the uploader’s profile; it was the guy that she was with. But his account didn’t exactly reveal who he was. It was just a few photos of various shows that he had been at, a heap of fancy beers and photos of some dog. Who was this guy? Was she dating him? Had she been dating him for a while? His mind quickly spiralled down the rabbit hole of endless questions as he stared at the photo.

Where did he fuck it all up? He had thought he was doing fairly well. Things seemed to be falling into place and he felt like he was on the verge of getting her to actually admit her feelings for him. But… Wait… Did she have feelings for him? Was the reason she hadn’t told him because she actually didn’t? Surely not. He eyed the notebook sitting on his coffee table. More often than not what he wrote down in that was a lot more thoughtful than he felt it was at the time of writing. Maybe something he had written down would give him a clue. As he flicked through the book, he felt like maybe he could find the answers scrawled into the pages. Had he missed something? Was there something he wasn’t picking up on? But everything in it just seemed… happy. Was the photo just all in his head? Or were the last six months all in his head? He couldn’t really tell, and he didn’t exactly have her around to verify the answers right now. Normally she was very good at keeping him grounded so that he didn’t spiral out about things like this. But she wasn’t here. And she wasn’t talking to him. And the burning in his chest suggested that maybe this was why. He stood up and made his way into his kitchen, rifling through his cupboard. There was a bottle of cheap vodka sitting in the back of it somewhere, he knew it, and he needed something to numb this sinking feeling. He found the bottle, screwing the cap off and letting it fall to the floor as he took a swig of it. Really, nobody was to blame for this except himself. He supposed he was just the boy who cried wolf, wasn’t he? He kept dangling the carrot just out of reach. Kept stringing her along without any indication whether he was reeling that string in or going to cut it. Why should she believe that he was anything worth holding out for when he’d never actually proven it? As much as he liked to think he walked that fine line well, he just couldn’t seem to get it right. He’d taken too long to work out what he wanted and she’d finally given up. Fuck. He took another swig from the bottle. It felt like the vodka wasn’t working, he wanted to feel better but he just wasn’t feeling anything.

* * *

The door slowly clicked open as George turned the handle. He’d been trying to call Matty for the last hour and had no response, so he figured it would probably be best to check in on his friend. As he opened the front door, he spied the curly haired boy lying on his kitchen floor, next to a mostly empty bottle of vodka. “Hey Matty…” He started slowly. “What are you doing?” George asked carefully, taking a few apprehensive steps towards him.

Matty let out a long sigh before answering, “Moping.”

“About what?” He asked with an eyebrow raised as he pulled a chair over to sit near him. He grabbed his phone off of the floor and held it out to George, knowing full well that it would still be open on the picture. George looked at it for a few moments in silent contemplation before speaking, “Who is he?”

“Dunno.” He mumbled.

“Then how do you know it’s anything worth worrying about?” He asked as he locked it and handed it back.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” He huffed, leaning up on his elbows to look at the drummer better. “I haven’t given her any reason to keep on waiting for me to sort my shit out. I’m just the asshole who can’t make up his damn mind. Surely she’s been able to find a guy in the time it’s taken her to work out that I’m a lost cause.” Matty scratched at his forearm as he spoke. George watched the movement carefully.

“You taken anything?” He asked bluntly.

“No. You’d already know if I had.” The more he spoke; the more George was able to hear the slur in Matty’s words. That bottle must’ve been full when he started. But it was better than the alternative. He picked it up, taking it into the kitchen and tipping the rest out. He certainly didn’t need any more hard liquor tonight.

“Why don’t you just, y’know, ask her?” George questioned with a pointed look as he walked back over and stared down at his friend, deciding to skip over the self-deprecating comments. The silence hung heavy in the room.

“She hasn’t spoken to me in a few days.” He eventually admitted.

“What did you do?” He wanted to be mad that that was the first question George asked, but it was a pretty fair accusation to make. Matty had accidentally fucked up his fair share of relationships through his antics. He’d also fucked up plenty intentionally, as well.

“Nothing!” He said defensively. “I think.” He added with a frown. “I hope.” He said quietly as he ran his hands down his face.

“Well… it sounds like maybe you need to have a chat with her, and make sure you haven’t blown it somehow.” He pointed out. Matty just groaned loudly as he flopped back onto the floor. George nudged the frontman with his foot to get his attention. He waited until he was looking at him to speak, “And if you haven’t, you probably need to reconsider that bit about not having your mind made up. Because it seems pretty fuckin’ made up to me, mate.” Matty didn’t really seem to register the comment. The gears seemed to be turning behind his eyes, but it didn’t look like anything clicked into place. Maybe it would be a conversation better had in the morning. “But in the meantime, c’mon.” He held his hand out to help Matty up. “Let’s get out of here.”

George took him to the bar down the street, forcing him to drink a glass of water between every drink and to eat the bowl of peanuts sitting on the table. As much as the conversation and company were nice, it didn’t fully pull Matty out of his thoughts. He felt like his mind was playing tricks on him. Surely everything couldn’t have just been in his head. He hadn’t felt this conflicted in a long time, and the last time he had, he had pretty unhealthy ways of getting his brain to shut up about it. The mildly healthier coping mechanisms that he had been relying on recently suddenly weren’t talking to him. Though, he never really told her anything about that, so he was the only one at fault for the lack of it now. He felt like if he told her how much he depended on her being around then it would make her realise that he wasn’t coping as well as everyone told him he was. Which might mean that she’d leave. Had he forgotten how to be alone? Maybe he should tell her. Maybe it would make her talk to him.

Eventually he excused himself from the table, telling George that he was going to the bathroom. He stepped out through the back door of the bar, feeling the cold night air hit his face as he glanced around the alley. It was thankfully empty. Before he could think too much about it, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialled her number. If he could just speak to her, she could fix this. He was dying to hear her voice. But as expected, there was no answer. It rang out and went to voicemail.

“I, uh…” He started thinking about what he wanted to say. He had a million things he wanted to tell her, but a million things wouldn’t fit in a voicemail message. And what did they matter? It didn’t matter how much he wished she was here, because she wasn’t here. She was never his, as much as he pretty much felt like it, so he really had no right to be so torn up about the thought of her leaving. And she didn’t have to be here, because her purpose in life wasn’t to look after this junkie wannabee musician. “Actually, don’t worry.” He slurred with a sigh. She didn’t have to deal with this, he didn’t have any right to dump his 2am drunken thoughts on her. “Goodnight. Never mind.” He hung up the phone, sliding it back into his pocket and pushing his way back into the bar for another drink.

* * *

The next day he woke up to a missed call less than half an hour old. Had she finally decided to talk to him? He frowned down at his phone, wondering why now and mulling it over for a few moments. Should he call back straight away? His mouth felt like ash, he had a splitting headache and he felt pretty nauseous, but those were all things that he could hide somewhat well through a phone conversation. After a few passing moments, he decided to call back. He had spent most of last night feeling like shit for being the jerk who kept stringing her along, he figured it was probably time to start showing some reciprocation. Assuming he still had the chance. It was a few rings before she picked it up.

“Hey!” She answered enthusiastically. He winced at the instant reaction he had to hearing her voice. He forgot how much he missed this.

“Hi.” He replied, clearing his throat nervously, “How’re you?” He continued, trying to keep it as casual as he could manage.

“Yeah, good! Tired, though. The festival was really great but it’s such long days to work.” She answered.

“The…” He frowned as he played those words over in his head again. “The what?”

“The music festival. The one out in the country that I told you I was working this weekend. I didn’t have any reception out there; it was so boring whenever we weren’t working.” She said these sentences like they meant nothing, but they suddenly made everything in Matty’s brain make sense.

“Oh. Oh. That music festival, yeah.” He lied with a laugh as he scratched at the side of messy curls, trying to remember when she had told him about that. “Who was playing again?” As she started rattling off the setlist, the information came back to him. He hadn’t committed that festival to memory because he hadn’t known any of those band names. “Were they any good?” He asked offhandedly, trying to keep the conversation light.

“I didn’t really catch many sets; we were pretty flat out.” She answered.

Silence filled the call as he planned his next move. He figured this was his in to try and work out who she had been with. If he knew who he was up against, maybe he could prove he was better. “So… Who were you out there with?” He asked with as much nonchalance in his voice as he could muster.

“There were a couple of people I knew that I worked the show with last year. It was good to catch up with them. Um… my manager was one of my brother’s friends from high school. He’s really nice, sorted out a holiday house for all of us and gave me a lift to and from the show. Oh, and my brother of course.” Her brother. Bloody hell. He had never actually met him, had he? It all made sense now. That explained the closeness in the photo without any actual intimacy. He found himself laughing at how quickly he had spiralled all that information into something it wasn’t. “What?” She asked, confused by the hysterics he was caught in.

“Nothing. Glad you had a good time.” He answered, finally feeling the weight lift from his shoulders.

“So, that voicemail you left-” She started, and just as quickly as it had left, that weight was right back on there. He left her a voicemail last night? Fuck. He didn’t remember that. What had he said? Could he pretend the call got cut off and reverse access voicemail messages? Probably not. “You never actually, y’know, said anything.” She laughed. Phew. “What was it that you called for?”

He thought about this for a few brief seconds. Fuck the bet. “Stay at mine this week.” He blurted out before he could think too hard on it.

Despite her initial surprise in the offer, she had ended up agreeing to fly over to London this weekend and stay at his place. For a week. In his home. With him. His mind fucking reeled at what he had just done. Both ends of the spectrum were running rampant through his brain. Things could potentially go very, very well, and maybe having her cooped up with him for a week would be amazing. Or, maybe it would go terribly and everything that had run through his brain last night would come true and suddenly his whole way of thinking for the last six months would turn out to all be wrong. As he laid in bed and tried to work his way through this existential tug-o-war, he eventually heard his bedroom door open. Before he could roll over to see who it was, he felt as massive weight start crushing him into the mattress. Now he knew who it was.

“George, get off me.” He growled, his face pressed into the duvet. “Why are you even here?”

“I crashed here last night after we got back. How’re you feelin’?” George’s voice called out as he shuffled around a bit to get comfortable.

“I’d feel a lot- ow, fuck.” Matty yelped as he received an elbow to the ribs. “-lot better if you fucking stopped flattening me.” At that, his best friend rolled to the other side of the bed with a laugh and allowed Matty some space.

“Do you remember our talk from last night?” He asked as their conversation took a more serious tone. Through his groggy brain he tried his best to remind himself of what conversation he would be referring to, before remembering George’s words about his mind ‘already being made up’. He was right. Had Matty not been too caught up in his own ridiculous thought spirals, he might’ve seen it sooner. He couldn’t believe that he’d been mistaking his feelings for dependence for this long. But that was about to change.

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#Matthew Healy x Reader #Matty Healy x Reader #Sunsetinmyvein

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unfortunatelysirius · 7 years

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He Think He Fly [George Weasley – Golden Trio]

♥ PROMPT ♥ [Requested] When a prank takes a wrong turn, George Weasley and Y/N L/N get stuck in a game of cat-and-mouse with some underlying sexual tension. ♥ A/N ♥ Hope y’all enjoy, and as always, make your requests and give me feedback! As you see below, I’ve added a new section to my imagine introductions! Love you all! Hope you enjoy this, lovely anon :D ♥ QUESTION OF THE IMAGINE ♥ What’s your Hogwarts house and Ilvermorny house? I’m a Ravenclaw and a Pukwudgie! ♥ WARNINGS ♥ Swearing, Fluff ♥ WORD COUNT ♥ 1025

1. “You know what they say about wand span, right?” The plan was simple: take the dungbombs, place them in position within Filch’s grubby fortress, and get out before the bombs had a chance to go off. It was something they’d decided on doing just an hour ago, and though Y/N warned Fred and George to be careful, the two didn’t listen and were not the least bit paranoid of Ms. Norris—Filch’s annoyingly observant feline—and that was where the problem first started.

Y/N was on guard, taking a few seconds to glance in the room and watch her best friends place around the dungbombs. It was thirty minutes into the plan, and the place was nearly filled with the dungbombs; Fred had managed to somehow charm them into being timed, which was something that honestly amazed Y/N when she contemplated Fred’s lack of an attention span. And she was intrigued to know how many dungbombs they’d manage to place before they had to make an escape, but the answer came to her when she heard a hiss from down the corridor.

“Oh, shite,” she muttered to herself, catching a glimpse of Ms. Norris’s dark tail swishing past a statue. “Boys! Get out of there!”

“My sweet, is it students after curfew?” came Filch’s filthy voice, cooing to that git of a cat. Fred and George gave Y/N amused grins and finished placing the dungbombs. They ran out of the room to meet Y/N at the opposite side of the wall.

“So what’s the plan, you bloody idiots?” Y/N asked, slinking her hair to the farthest corner of the wall, trying to edge away from where Filch was slowly carrying over.

Fred shrugged. “Guess we just hide.”

George smiled and nodded. “You go one way, Fred; we’ll go the other,” he told his brother, and before Y/N had time to process such a strange request, the boy was grabbing her by the arm and shoving her forward. Filch came quickly around the opposite corner, and a shriek of outrage escaped him at seeing students out of bed.

Ms. Norris meowed loudly, and Mr. Filch cooed at her. “We’ll get those blasted brats!” Fred had already hidden behind a nearby curtain, and he was waiting with bated breath and a held-in snigger as he eavesdropped on Filch shuffling down the hall like a dwarf weighted with chains. And just as Filch was about to pass his office and run after the two fleeing students, a foul odor seeped into the corridor—and a steady steam looking a bit like vomit filtered its way past the door of Filch’s fortress. “What in the name of Merlin—” The office door burst open before Filch had a chance to contemplate the mysterious anomaly, and dungbomb after dungbomb began to explode, turning the corridor into a sewage system. “Students out of bed, students out of bed.”

Fred cursed to himself quietly, knowing that the old man had finally lost his damned mind.

Meanwhile, George and Y/N ran quickly down the corridor, only one of the teenagers laughing at the predicament they were currently in. It happened all the time—Filch catching them in the middle of a prank. They never really feared what would happen when caught, but Y/N was always quick to think the worst, and that was something George both loved and hated about her. What was the good in a little fun when everything only evoked your worries?

Filch’s angry crowing came into hearing range, and the two shared a panicked look. Without a thought put into a better plan, Y/N gripped George hard by the ear and dragged him to a nearby broom closet. The door snapped shut and Y/N placed a palm over George’s mouth to keep him from saying anything.

They stayed in that position for minutes, but stiffened the moment they heard Filch go running past their door. George gripped Y/N’s hand softly, and though the two were great pranksters that reveled in being caught, Filch… wasn’t the one they’d like for the job. Even being in his office could make someone wish to leave the premises of Hogwarts and never return. And so, knowing Y/N had a deep repulsion for Filch, he held her hand and kept her close, giving not a chance for himself to rethink his choice for reassurance. And he held her like so until they heard the telltale sign of silence entering the hallway.

Y/N sagged against the left side of the closet, letting out a loud breath of relief. “Thank Merlin,” she muttered. And then, she turned stiff and tense—like a board, but with slow tremors of realization traveling down and across her skin. She gave George a strange, strange look. “Oh, my God.”

George raised an eyebrow. “What’s the face for?” The darkness was obscure to a tee, but certainly couldn’t blot out the way that Y/N reddened. A bemused smile crossed George’s freckled face.

Y/N’s flush intensified, and she bit her lip—hard. “Well… um…” She went quiet.

Suddenly, it struck George just the predicament they were in. A tight space, bodies flush together, an embarrassed companion, hands intertwined… He dimpled. “So… Y/N…” he began, giving her a dashing smirk meant to kill. “You know what they say about wand span, right?” He fished out his wand and held it up for inspection. “I’d say this is about ten… eleven.. maybe even twelve inches. Interested yet?”

Y/N looked absolutely speechless, staring at him with wide, unseeing eyes—almost like a ghost. She looked away from him with that same Gryffindor-red blush coating her cheeks.

George leaned closer, feeling more and more daring as Y/N continued to behave awkwardly bemused. “Oh, you should be.” His voice was hoarse, and this didn’t feel like a regular moment with his best friend—no, this was entirely different.

Y/N closed her eyes at the feeling of him drawing closer, and before she could restrain herself, she reached forward and grabbed him by his tie. “Why don’t you shut up about wand span and actually show me,” she whispered hoarsely.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

#george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley #georgeweasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley imagine #fredweasley #fred weasley #harry potter moodboard #harry potter #harrypotter #hpedit #harry potter x reader #harry potter imagine

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