(Matty Healy x OFC!Teen!Sister!r)
warnings: crying, mention of divorce and fighting, sibling issues??, absent family members, name, R white ask i guess? should I have done adoptive r or sum? Will rewrite if u wanna!!
a/n: i thought this was gonna be the best thing ive ever written but now idk
Matty was nineteen when he found out his parents were pregnant again. He wasn’t so excited at first. Not angry – just didn’t care. He was out of high school, playing random gigs around London while he waited for the other three to finish University. He was an adult, and practically on his own, having already moved out of the house. Everyone was excited – He just didn’t care.
He drove himself and Louis to meet you at the hospital the day your mother gave birth. Louis couldn’t contain his excitement. He had hoped it was a girl from the day he found out a new baby was arriving. Matty had to tell him to ‘be chill’ when walking inside.
When they walked into the room, you were sat on a warming table in the corner on the other side of the suite. He caught a glimpse. Tiny little thing wrapped up in pink. You had only been alive for a number of hours and they already got a bow on your head, he thought. Louis ran to you while Matty went to your Mum. “Wouldn’t shut up the whole car ride” He said.
When Louis kept jumping up and down shrinking “I wanna hold her! I wanna hold her!” You mum said, “Maybe Matty should hold her?”
He turned to her, pale almost. She did nothing but nod.
“Yeah, alright.” He said.
Louis made some sort of noise in disappointment and went and sat with your mother, your father joining too, and watched Matty near the bassinet.
He peered over the edge, fully laying eyes on you. His breath caught in his throat, just for a brief moment. He doesn;t remember Louis looking this tiny when he was born. Your eyes were closed and you were still. Like a literal baby doll, he thought.
“Go ahead, son.” Your father whispered.
He’s held a baby before. Being the first born and one of the oldest cousins meant being a built-in babysitter at one time or another. But why did it feel so different now?
He lifted you up and held you close. You squirmed slightly,
“What do you think, son?” Your dad said.
He thought for a moment. “Tiny.” Was all he could say.
He tried his best to fight the tear peering from his eye. “Hi, Hazel.” He said, voice barely above a whisper
He let out a quiet “Yeah,” In confirmation.
“You’re gonna be trouble, aren’t you?”
You sink deeper into the kitchen chair, arms folded so tight it feels like they’re welded in place. Your mum stands by the counter with her mug, giving you that look that’s equal parts stubborn and smug, like she already knows she’s going to win.
“He’s busy, Mum,” you snap, not even bothering to look at her. Your eyes stay fixed on the cracked tile beneath your foot. “It’s not like he’ll have all the free time in the world to ‘sort me out’ while performing on a fucking world tour.”
“You’re his sister – he’s always got time for you.”
You laugh, sharp and bitter. “Yes, because I’ve seen him so much over the course of my sixteen-year life time.”
Her voice drops into that warning tone you know too well. “Hazel.”
You straighten in your chair, chin tilted up like you’ve got armour on. “What? It’s true. He’s been busy with his band since forever. And now I’m supposed to go hang around like some backstage charity case—”
“You are getting on that plane to see your brother and that’s the end of it,” she cuts in, the mug landing on the counter with a sharp clink. “I don’t want to hear another word.”
You throw your head back with an exaggerated groan. “You can’t force me to enjoy it.”
“Just think of it as I’m paying for a holiday with your brother,” she says. “Where you don’t have to deal with me on your arse all day.”
That gets you. You try not to show it, but a smile almost tugs at your mouth. Instead you shrug like you’re bored. “Yeah, it might be worth it.”
She smirks, just a little, before picking up her phone. You watch her thumbs fly over the screen, probably texting him already—like you’re some parcel being shipped off.
Matty: What time she land again?
Denise: 11:30. I’ll send you the confirmation.
She’s being a bit cady, fair warning.
Matty: Wonder where she gets it from…
The car park is loud, even though the doors haven’t opened yet. Kids press against the barricades with signs and phones, screaming Matty’s name as he drags you behind him. You keep your hood up, eyes on the ground, chewing the sleeve of your jumper like maybe you can disappear.
“Nearly there,” he mutters, flashing a smile at security.
Inside, the noise dulls, replaced with the clatter of wheels and cases echoing down the concrete halls. You hate the way you feel here—small. Like the building itself swallows you whole. Matty glances back, clocking it, but you cross your arms tight and look away.
“I’m fine, Matty.” You make sure your voice has just enough bite.
But you can tell he doesn’t buy it.
He pulls you through to a dressing room. It’s quiet—amp buzzing in the corner, half-eaten pizza sagging on the table. “See?” he says, throwing the door wide. “Sanctuary. Sit, hide, raid the snacks. No one’ll bother you.”
You collapse onto the couch, kicking off your trainers. You don’t reach for food. You don’t grab your phone. You just stare at the carpet until your eyes blur, nails scratching against each other until they sting.
Matty stares at you like that, eventually sighing and droppingh into a chair across from you, elbows on his knees. “Alright. Out with it. You’ve been acting like you swallowed a lemon since you landed. Wanna tell me why Mum flew you across the bloody globe to see me?”
You glance up, sharp. “She didn’t tell you about my one too many out-of-school outings?”
“Just some sparring details.” He smirks. “You on your period 24/7 or what?”
“What? I’m just trying to understand.”
He sighs, holding his hands up. “Fine. No more jokes. Either way—I’m happy you’re here.”
You nod, quick, and rip into the sandwich he pushed at you earlier. Bite after bite, chewing like it
You nodded, quick and stiff, then sank back into the decaying couch you were sitting on.
Matty leaned back, watching. Something in his chest twisted. You weren’t just being difficult. You were sad. And he hadn’t been around enough to notice until now.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “Hazel…”
“Will you tell me what’s happening?.”
And just like that—the wall cracked.
You bit your tongue and looked away, as if it could hide the new fresh falling tears in your eyes.
Matty’s jaw clenched, his thumb pressing against the filter of his half-finished cigarette. He hadn’t lit it yet. Couldn’t, not with You looking at him like that—eyes wet, shoulders trembling. It was a look he remembered, suddenly and painfully, from when you were small. When you’d toddle behind him down the hallway, sticky fingers reaching for his hand, terrified of being left behind.
Only now you weren’t a toddler. You were sixteen and furious. Sixteen and broken.
He leaned forward in his seat, “I’m right here Haze–”
“I want you to come home.”
“Hazel… it doesn't work like that, my love.” he sighed. “Come here.”
You shook your head no, which shocked him. This wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought.
“Why did you leave?” You said, voice barely audible.
“I’m here, Hazel. I’m right here.”
“No you’re not! You’re halfway across the fucking globe everytime I try and call you! And then you can’t talk because you're working, or on stage, or in a completely different time zone from the one I'm in. You’re never there for me, Matty!”
“That’s not true. I’m always here for you, you’re my sister.”
“Then why doesn’t it feel that way?I know you have a wonderful life outside of me. I know you’re out here, with your best friends, living your dream. But why am I not a part of it?”
He was silent after that. “You’re close with Louis? Is it because I’m a girl?”
“Is it because I’m younger?”
“Then what is it Matty? Tell me what I did?”
“What did I do? Why did you leave me there?”
He swallowed. “I didn’t leave you, Haze. I swear I didn’t.”
“You did.” Your voice cracked, softening. “You left me with Louis and Mum, and Dad, and when Louis left I had to deal with both of them by myself. The cheating, the divorce, all of it. And you—” You choked, pressing the heel of your palm to your eyes. “You were supposed to be mine. My brother. And you weren’t there.”
Matty felt the words sink into his chest like stones. He hadn’t thought of it that way. He’d thought you were young enough, sheltered enough, to not notice. He’d thought—maybe stupidly—that you had been spared the worst of it.
He reached forward, tentative, and took your wrist, lowering your hand from your eyes. “I’m sorry.” His voice came out rough. “I was a selfish prick. All I cared about was music, and getting out, and my own bloody head. I didn’t mean to leave you with their mess. I thought—Hazel, I thought you’d be alright.”
Your lip wobbled. “I wasn’t.”
“I know,” he said quickly. “I know now. And I hate myself for not seeing it.” He pulled you closer, and this time you didn’t resist. Your small, wiry frame pressed against his chest, shoulders shaking as you cried.
Matty rested his chin on the top of your head, holding you as tight as he dared. “You didn’t do anything wrong, alright? It’s not because you’re a girl, or because you’re younger, or because of anything you did. It’s me. I should’ve been there, and I wasn’t. But I’m here now.” His voice cracked on the end.
“You’ll just leave again.” The words were muffled against his shirt.
“Not like before,” he promised. “I can’t quit the band, but—” he pulled back just enough to tip your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I can do better. I can answer the phone. I can fly home more. I can let you come with me more. Hell, you think I don’t want to show you off? My kid sister who terrifies teachers and tells Mum to piss off?” He tried for a smile.
It almost worked. You gave the tiniest snort through tears.
“That’s my girl,” he whispered, brushing your hair back.
There was a silence, softer now. Just the two of you in the dim backstage lounge, the hum of equipment vibrating through the walls.
“Were you acting out because of me?” he asked again, quieter this time.
You shrugged against him. “Maybe. Probably. I wanted someone to notice.”
“You got my attention,” he said wryly, then his tone gentled. “But you don’t have to break yourself to get me to see you, Haze. I see you. Always have. And I love you.”
Your arms tightened suddenly around his middle, like you were afraid he’d disappear if you let go.
“I love you too, Matty,” you whispered, voice small.
Matty closed his eyes, holding you like he had all those years ago in the hospital, when you were tiny and pink and squirming in his arms. Back then, all he’d managed was “Tiny.” Now, with her pressed against him, older and hurting but still his, the word came back to him.
“Still tiny,” he murmured into your hair, and felt you laugh—shaky, but real—against his chest.
And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like he’d left her at all.
Bonus: The lads meeting baby sister
Your brother’s voice snaps across the room in a whisper sharp enough to quiet all three of the towering men hovering around him. They fall into a hushed sort of awe, their tall frames leaning down like a forest of giants around you.
Adam’s the first to comment, “That’s the tiniest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
“I don’t think I’ve even laid eyes on a proper baby before?” George says, which earns a wack on the back of his head from Ross.
Their voices are rough and clumsy, but curious. You shift in Matty’s arms at the sound, your little fingers curling.
“Guys,” Matty says, softer now, his chin brushing the top of your head. “Meet Hazel Healy.”
“Hi, Hazel,” they all say, too shy, too quiet, too in sync, as if practiced.
The name tugs at you. Your body squirms, and your eyelids crack open to a blurry world of unfamiliar faces. You blink, as if you recognize them. The boys collectively gasp.
“She knows her name, that’s what it is!”
“Why her name Hazel if her eyes aren’t hazel?” George blurts, squinting.
Matty lets out a sigh that sounds like he’s already tired. “I don’t know. I didn’t name her. It’s just a pretty name. H and H.”
“Have you even held a baby before?”
From the other room, your mum’s voice carries like a bell: “Did you boys wash your hands?”
Silence. Then, muttered: “…No.”
“I better hear a long stream of water coming from the kitchen before you hold that little girl!” Denise calls.
The three boys scatter immediately, bumping into each other, elbows knocking. It’s chaos, lanky limbs scrambling toward the sink. The sound of running water echoes down the hall, followed by childish arguments—
“No, I was already in front of the sink—”
“You didn’t even use soap, you animal—”
When they pile back into the room, Adam wins, drying his hands on his jeans like a trophy. Matty scowls but carefully passes you over.
“Hi, little Healy,” Adam whispers. His voice is the softest it’s ever been. You coo, your tiny fingers lifting toward his shirt. The other three make noises that sound suspiciously like melting.
“I’ll bet you’re a way cuter baby than your brother ever was, huh?” Adam grins.
“Rude,” Matty mutters, swooping you back with a glare.
“Me next, me next!” George is already crowding in, arms outstretched.
“I know how to hold a fucking baby, man,” George whisper-snaps, but his hands are careful as he cradles you. You stare up at him for a beat… then sneeze.
“Well, bless you, miss,” George murmurs, his whole face softening in a way the boys haven’t seen before. “What else does she do?” Ross asks from behind him, leaning in close.
“She’s not a fucking dog,” Matty groans. “She doesn’t perform tricks for your liking, she’s a human.”
“A cute human,” Adam adds, leaning over George’s shoulder.
“That’s right,” George says down at you. “Where’d you get your genes from, Hazel? ’Cause it’s certainly not your brother.”
“You’ve already said that,” Matty grumbles.
“My turn,” Ross says firmly, holding his arms out. “Give.”
George smirks but gently transfers you into Ross’s arms. Ross holds you like you’re spun from glass, shoulders hunched, breath shallow. He stares down with equal parts awe and terror.
His jaw drops. “She—she made a noise.”
“Christ, Ross,” Matty sighs. “She’s a baby, she’s supposed to make noises.”
You settle after a moment, your tiny hand curling around the drawstring of his hoodie.
“She likes you,” George says, smirking.
“’Course she does,” Ross replies proudly.
Matty reaches out to take you back, shaking his head. “Alright, that’s enough. She’s not a prop, she’s my sister.”
But the four of them are still staring at you like you’re the most miraculous thing they’ve ever seen.
