this is kinda self indulgent but what if matty reconnects with a high school friend of his (reader) and they were like hella smart and helped the band pass their tests to stay out of trouble - and the reader is basically like wasted potential and thinks they’ve dissapointed everyone and breaks down in front of matty wait woah who said that?
(the ask is below the cut this part it´s me without stop saying things)
HEY finally i made this i´m so sorry for taking so many days but this ask become so introspective and had me in a spiral. anyways this aks made me think a little about this thing i made a while ago and i know it doesn't have much to do with it, but i don't know, it just reminded me.
anyways as i said this thing has me in a spiral bc this year i´ve been feeling like i´m falling down with my degree and i had this feeling things are not being that good so i think this is basically me having a speech with the wall BUT it turns out to be really helpfull so basically thanks for ask this love you <3333
reading at your own risk, etc, etc. it's pretty sad and pretty overwhelming, tbh. It's 3k of pure anguish, so enjoy it
The first ring at the door surprises you with half the ingredients for dinner already chopped, and on the way between the kitchen and the door you try to rearrange everything as if you were manic. Your apartment isn’t too decorated, but the cushions are almost perfect on the burgundy couch, and small photos of important moments in your life still hang on the coat rack.
“Hey!” Matty appears with George in the doorway, holding a bottle of red wine between his arms, radiating joy in every movement.
“We brought red wine to make up for making you turn on the oven.” George comes in and quickly squeezes you in a hug before taking off his coat. “Matty didn’t want to buy white wine.”
“That’s not adult drink!” He complains, closing your apartment door and then locking you in with a near-automatic hug. He leaves a small kiss on your head at the end.
“Whiskey never starts tasting good, Matty. There are several bottles in the cellar, so we’re covered.” You smile at both, and almost without giving time to say more, the doorbell rings again.
“Oh, tell me Matty isn’t cooking.” Ross and Adam walk through the door while hugging you and complimenting the print on your sweatshirt.
“No, I wouldn’t let him poison my best guests.” You joke, looking at the four boys in your living room with a smile. You’ve missed them so much.
And of course, between all the years that separate the end of school and now, there have been too many changes. The band has blossomed and seeing them in your house, where you used to share nights that never seemed to end, is almost impossible. Either because they are always somewhere else in the world, or because suddenly Adam has a kid and even though nothing has changed, it’s not something to overlook.
They don’t take long to sit around the table and sofa, joking about the criticisms of the latest tour, while the only sounds filling the rough walls of your apartment are the cork popping from the wine bottle, glasses filling and emptying, or the warmth of the four laughs together.
There’s something endearing and comforting about having them there, at least for these hours, away from the world and just being the same kids you met when they had the rope around their necks. Like everyone still being sixteen and talking about biology being the priority.
--
It was a day like any other at school, until a group of boys approached you at the lockers desperately asking for help. They introduced themselves as Matty, George, Adam, and Ross, almost all talking at once and fighting to take the lead of the conversation. You laughed without being able to help it, which made them stop arguing.
“Listen, we need help with the literature assignment.” Murmurs the shortest of the four, Matty. “They told us you’re brilliant and… I… that. We need help.”
“Well, the one who needs it most is him. But we wouldn’t mind either.” George jokes, pushing Matty in the back as if they were kids.
“It’s a rather unpromising intrusion, but we’ll pay you if you help us.” Adam catches your attention just like the kids in front of you when they realize they forgot the most important thing.
“Yes, sorry. We forgot that.” Ross sighs shyly, apparently the most withdrawn of the four. “If you don’t want to or can’t, it’s okay too.”
You looked at them for a few seconds with a sweet expression on your face; you hated when people approached you just because you were good at school and had really good grades, but you wouldn’t say no to the money. Besides, something about that group of boys felt endearing, maybe it was how Matty couldn’t stop talking without making himself understood very well, or how George was always teasing Matty or just moving around, or how Ross spoke little but had the right words, or how Adam tried to look like the most formal one as if he was taking care of his kids.
Of course, you had heard rumors about them throughout school. How Matty and George were a headache for teachers and always playing pranks that made the class stop. How Ross and Adam had calmer temperaments but always argued until the last second.
Anyway, you couldn’t lose too much.
“I’ll take it, alright.”
That was the beginning of a friendship that took you all the way up while they became a proper band. What was supposed to be several afternoons helping with Lovecraft’s writings quickly turned into weeks where literature invited you to think and discuss mundane life topics, to find music that told exactly what each character was living, and inside jokes that were born and died in a short time but belonged to you.
It wasn’t even hard to finish that assignment, actually the boys were smarter than they showed, but school didn’t interest them at all. Like any teenage dream, they dreamed of having a band of their own and traveling the world making people feel something through their words, wanting to be transcendental and relatable.
You learned to understand the scribbles Matty called his best attempts, to marvel at George’s broad musical knowledge and how he hid that range of himself in notes on the edges of the pages, to find a way Ross shared his worldview through small acts, and to get used to Adam being simply amazing at playing guitar and bringing ideas in his head to life.
You simply became one more to them—in the cafés after class, in rehearsals at George’s house, in night parties that started and ended anywhere, in monthly visits to the record store to get new music.
At some point school stopped mattering, but you were always there to make sure they passed exams just barely. Although by then, you already knew life had better things planned for them.
When Matty didn’t get his diploma because he had failed almost everything and because he never went to pick it up due to attending Reading and Leeds, you knew somehow things were going to get serious.
But never with you, Matty became more consistent when it came to you even, possibly because you both shared the peculiarity of not being able to sleep well at night and being constantly tormented.
And the rest came almost by chance. Listening to song demos, talks about where they would play, spinning a globe and allowing themselves to dream of that place. Small first concerts, first goodbyes at airports.
---
The white wine slips through your fingers without trying too hard, but everyone makes sure no glass empties. The pizza comes out of the oven and just by the time it hits the table, the slices are scarce.
“It’s not very nice to leave the host without food.” You joke, sitting between George and Adam, closest to the kitchen.
Adam laughs, splitting the last piece in half, and then offering to get the other pizza in the oven.
“Always telling us what we do wrong, as if you were our mother.” Adam rolls his eyes playfully and gently taps your elbow. “Oh wait, you have been. Always making sure we have everything up to date. Sometimes we need that organization on tour.”
“No kidding, that would be great. Imagine, we’d never be missing the printed setlist.” Ross says, looking at you calmly. “I still can’t believe you copied a paper by hand in ten minutes just because we forgot to bring it.”
“Well, it wasn’t a big deal.” You shrug without hiding your reflection on the glass of your cup. “I’ve done better things.”
“Sure you have. Between handing Ross summaries on napkins at lunch and writing papers for Matty, you did more than all the teachers in years.” George says, shaking his head.
When they all look at you delighted by that, you just sip from your glass and laugh forcedly. Something about the stigma they have of you as someone who was always capable starts to hurt.
“Well, yeah. But I was sixteen and bored.” You excuse yourself, trying to lighten the drastic change your way of speaking now has. You know Matty notices when he looks at you sideways.
“Imagine if you weren’t bored then.” Ross snaps his fingers ironically. “If 1975 exists, part of it is because of you. You know that well.”
Well, at least you’ve done something important.
“Let’s toast to you, darling.” Proposes Matty, and all you can do is scratch your neck impatiently. You’re almost about to tell him not to, it’s not worth to toast to whatever this life of yours is. It’s nothing admirable, nor something that makes you feel good about what you could be doing.
But you don’t. You just raise your glass and smile as hard as you can.
The walls of your apartment seem to crumble over you, as if they were soaked with all that potential you don’t know where it went after school. It’s everywhere, looking at you, that version of you that could have been but never will.
“How’s everything now? We heard you were close to finishing your degree some time ago.” Everyone seems overly focused on your movements, as if you were the only important thing to highlight. “You must be an incredible scientist.”
That’s the last straw. The desire that never happened. The sentence seems to burn every fiber of your skin.
“Yes, I’m working on things. Nothing too exciting to tell.” You murmur, trying not to look at anyone too much. Lying is not something you do well, and much less something you enjoy.
But explaining that the degree wasn’t what you thought, or that you’re not even working in something related to your studies means having to say it out loud and making it more real than it is. Also, showing that version of yourself to people who knew you at your best is disappointing.
You feel your heart pounding in your throat and swallowing becomes a bit harder. Talking more about it would drive you crazy. The only thing you know for sure is that when they’re gone, the crying will come out automatically and won’t let you do much more.
But for now, you just want to change the subject.
“Well, enough about me. Tell me about the festivals in South America.”
The next hour and a half is painted with backstage stories and recordings, last-minute setlist changes and silly things that happened. That hour seems like a lifeline where you’re allowed to feel better. Every time you laugh or joke it’s from the most genuine place, and even seems the crisis stops.
Until George yawns and gets up from the seat.
“As much as I’d like to stay, I’m not fifteen anymore to wake up hungover and without responsibilities.” He murmurs sleepily, heading to get his jacket.
“We’ll do this more often, I promise. Next week I’ll come visit you with the kid.” Adam kisses your head and Ross rubs your back.
The three say goodbye to you with a big hug as if they suspected something they can’t prove but trying to tell you they’re there for you no matter what.
The apartment only has Matty and you now.
“Aren’t you leaving?” You ask, trying to hold on five more minutes without breaking down. You grab the glasses with no subtlety to take them to the dishwasher.
“Hey, you’ll get calluses if you keep scrubbing the cups like that.” He approaches slowly but doesn’t lose that thoughtful tone he adopts when something’s bothering him. The same tone you don’t know if you want near or far. His hand takes yours when you don’t respond to his words, and the glass vanishes in the foam.
“You don’t want me to leave, do you?” He murmurs in a very low voice, not really knowing what to do. He just looks at you while you lower your head.
“No.” You whisper, and for a moment that seems enough. “Do you have a cigarette?”
“Of course, but I need you to talk to me.” He closes the water tap and rubs his thumb on your wrist.
“I’m talking.” You say as if you could downplay it. But you know you have no escape, not while he’s in these four walls.
“Yes, but there’s something you’re not telling me.” He doesn’t pressure you to move, just leaves the cigarette under your palm. “The balcony?”
“The brown door, my room’s lights are on.” You reply, clutching Matty’s palm. Not as a romantic thing, but as the only point of support that seems possible without altering reality any further.
Matty nods without speaking and makes you walk there without letting go of your hand. Matty isn’t a stranger in your room, not at all, but there’s something now in his steps that hurts you. Maybe because for the first time in months you accept things are worse than they are. Your room even seems to receive you like a stranger.
The cold rush that hits when you’re on the balcony makes you shiver. You sit on the floor, cross-legged, head hanging, feeling very tired. He sits beside you without speaking, you know he won’t say anything until you do first.
“I’m sorry, really.” The cigarette trembles in your hands until it finally falls, and you don’t understand which of all the reasons it’s for that you’re apologizing.
“This place is amazing, the city view is beautiful.” He speaks out of nowhere, giving you the step to talk and also handing you the lit cigarette.
“It could be better, it had potential.” You exhale the smoke, it runs through you like an old friend. You sigh. “Just like me.”
Matty looks at you with an expression you can’t decipher. “Hey.”
“It’s quite obvious, but I’m not okay. Nothing’s okay.” You finally confess. The world seems to stop when you sigh like it will never end. “You’re not going to leave me alone until I say it.”
You bury your head against your knees with the cigarette still between your fingers.
“I didn’t finish my degree, I don’t think I can either. I’m not working on anything worthwhile, I’m not even working in science. I change jobs every six months, the bank figures aren’t good, my relationships barely exist. And it burns me not being the person everyone thinks I should be.”
Matty doesn’t interrupt you, and something inside overflows once you start to speak.
"You and the boys are doing what they dreamed of doing. Everyone I know is doing something worthwhile. But they all keep looking at me as if I were the same girl who finished high school with honors and could make excellent conclusions in ten minutes. But I don’t know where that part of me is, I think I lost it years ago. And it hasn’t come back."
You don’t even realize you’ve started crying until you feel your knees wet. But there’s something that stops you from stopping talking.
"People always believed too much in me, and maybe that’s the problem. Everyone expected me to do great things, to get to great places, and at some point I believed it, but I’m nowhere. I thought I was going to do something important and everything sank."
“I let you all down.” You lift your head and look at him, feeling your body tense up and your chest shake. “You, the kids, everyone. I'm a waste of space.”
When you sigh for the last time and rub your eyes to try to stop the tears, without any success, Matty puts out the cigarette in your hand and pulls you toward him. He hugs you like you were made of porcelain. He also has tears on his face.
You would never be a disappointment. But even if you were, and if everything went wrong, you don’t have to prove to anyone what you’re worth.
He whispers in your ear and kisses your hair, trying to hold you as close as possible. "You don’t have to fake it with any of us."
Matty pulls back a few inches to look at you.
"It was never about you being brilliant, we weren’t and aren’t your friends for that. It’s always been because you were the one who believed in us when no one gave us a penny, who took care of us when we were nothing but the irresponsible kids in class."
The silence turns warm, for the first time. He runs his hand over your knee to wipe away the little stains.
"I don’t know which direction I should take."
He smiles sadly.
"Maybe you need to try several directions and make mistakes. Not all paths have to point upwards for them to be worthwhile. But you will be—"
“Matty, don’t tell me I’m going to be okay. Please.”
You beg him, knowing those words are the main cause of your ruin.
“I was going to ask if you agreed that I stay the night today.”
His hand finds your back and pulls it toward him.
I believe and trust in you, and I hope that’s enough. Not in who you thought you’d be, but I believe in who you are now.
You rest your head on his shoulder while he takes the chance to wipe some frozen tears from your face and rub your back almost the whole time.
--
i really really hope you enjoy it and also if you can relate to this, i send you a big hug. seriously, you're doing amazing, even if you don't believe it <3
thanks for reading! you can visit my masterlist to found more things like this. request are always open so don´t be shy to ask!
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