she´s got no soul

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here´s a list of #´s i use to talk around here:

#coffe talks for conversations that are left in the question box, they are not requests, just open conversations. / also #moots or #stuffugh

#asks! actually the same as up but for the anonymous too

#writing asks! to tag writings that are not part of a universe and are requested by the suggestion box.

also #matty healy fanfiction to everything that belongs to be an au

#sister!au #telltale heart au basically my fics

#navigation / #lets talk it's only me bothering around

The sound of the alarm clock pulls you out of the extravagant dream in which you are being submerged. You don’t even understand why there is there a figure of white complexion with curls falling over his nose, looking completely fluffy on what seems to be a small stool.

In reality, you remember it at the exact moment in which you open your phone and wander for a while through social networks. For a second all your world goes headfirst towards the photo you see in your main inbox, Matty. Then now you conclude that it is him who has sneaked into your dreams.

It has been something like six or seven months since the incident at the airport with the delayed flights and a crossword resolution to kill the waiting time. You have not spoken with Matty again since then. You feel a little silly, honestly, thinking that you should have asked him for his number or something like that.

But in reality everything felt so warm and so comfortable that asking for it perhaps would have broken the vibe of the environment. Matty was himself exactly because you could not see him as if he were a figure on the stage, because you didn’t know him as someone famous at that moment.

Paradoxically, now you have become closer to the band. You almost ran to play them in your headphones the moment you set a foot in Liverpool.

You are dazzled by the capacity that Matty has to express himself in the music, and in how everything feels so intimate and so deep in the choice of each one of the instruments and of the chords that make up the sound tracks they have available in their catalog.

Each song seems designed for some specific moment, or for some punctual person, but it is as if all of them were destined to stab in a personal way. The synthesizers that back up the neon of the aesthetic, the drums that strike in drastic moments, the guitar riff that carries a heavy melancholy, and then there is Matty singing.

Sometimes it seems that the words he whispers in small notes are made for you, as if he had read you before meeting you. A secret that understands exactly how your mood is defined.

But now, your finger goes up and down the screen in his Instagram profile. Something in the last photos he has uploaded from the tour catches you almost instantly. You pout, thinking about how ridiculous it would be to send him a message.

That is to say, what would you tell him? “Hello, I am the girl with whom you have been stuck in Manchester!! Nice to greet and say hello.” Come on, after all, he is still the main singer of 1975 and you don’t believe for a single second that it was the first time in which he found himself trapped in a scenario like that. Besides, the possibility that he really sees it you consider almost null.

From the floor of your room, you feel how your small puppy gets up over itself and begins to spin in circles, then running around your small condominium. You have adopted him really recently, so he is still a very energetic dog that needs to be running half of the time.

“Well, Mils, we will go for a walk.” It seems that your puppy even answers you when he moves his tail frenetically. He does not stop barking in the minimal time that you take to put on some random jean and a black jacket on top, tying the laces of your boot.

Already at the door, the brown fur of your dog becomes a single whirlwind almost hitting against the metal sheet of the entrance.

Putting on the leash is a whole adventure, and when you achieve it, you have to keep the patience in order not to be practically dragged to the street.

The morning air turns out to be somewhat rough, it is humid and the only thing that calms the cold is the small arc of the sun rays against the sidewalk. Some clouds decorate the sky, surely it will rain later.

Mils only dedicates himself to pulling the leash and to letting himself run happily wherever he passes, like a baby.

While both walk through the sidewalks, you think that the city looks a little desolate. I mean, it is a Friday at nine in the morning, but the city is usually a commotion all the time. The only commotion now is given by Mils running through the leaves that fall from the trees making them fly, and even sticking some to your boots.

You turn the corner heading to one of the cafés with which the law firm where you work has an agreement with the objective of solving your breakfast of the next days.

And then, you must adjust your gaze to convince yourself that your unconscious is not making you misinterpret things. But as if it were the personification of a memory, Matty is there.

Leaning against the glass of the coffee shop, checking his phone unconcerned, but really concentrated in typing something. Something that later he pours into a notebook that unfolds on the table.

Your heart makes a turn when seeing his tattoo on the wrist, definitely it is him.

“Matty?” You ask, when you get close enough to the place, without thinking too much.

He raises his sight barely, thinking that maybe it is some of the girls that attend the place to ask if he wants something else. Then he passes a hand through his face with a flash of knowing your face.

“Hey, hello.” He greets you with a courteous smile, and fights with himself to remember who you are. Several images come to his head, something of a spilled coffee, Liverpool, the layover in Manchester. Oh, suddenly he has it.

“Hello!” He tries again, with the brightness in his eyes at maximum. “Sorry, it took me a little time to recognize you. But yes, that, hello.” He smiles with the shyness at the tip of his fingers.

“Yes, I believe it.” You move your head barely, and smile at him. “It is good to see you again, and it is good that it is not in a delayed plane.”

He laughs, relaxing his shoulders and nodding. “I’m glad to see you back.”

When you believe that the conversation reaches a dead point and you bite your tongue to say something more, the soft pressure on your wrist returns you to the world when you see your dog standing on two legs on Matty’s legs.

“Mil-“

Everything happens almost at the second. Matty stretches to caress the head of your pet at the same time that you try to shout his name. Then, as if they were best friends, your dog and Matty turn to you with the same expression of being caught red-handed.

“Oh, look at him. He is a little one so sweet.” He murmurs, passing his fingers through the neck of Mils, and he only responds sticking out the tongue to lick the hands of Matty.

“His name is Mils. I have him since a month and some days, so you know, he has energy.” You laugh, looking for the card of the voucher of your job in the pocket. “Do you give me five minutes? I was going to change this for a coffee.”

“Sure, I stay with the little one.” He answers, as if it were the most natural request of the world, but points with the gaze to the leash. You take it off your hand, and when you are going to pass it to him, your palms brush. There is a strange spark in it but you decide to ignore it.

You enter the store and return a couple of minutes later, exchanging the voucher of the week for two large coffees and two ginger cookies with white chocolate. You return to the table where Matty is and leave him one of the coffees, and one of the cookies.

You take advantage that he takes time in noticing your return, and slide in the wrapper of the cookie a card with your number, it feels like something instinctive to do. Besides, you do not believe that you have the possibility of returning to have an encounter like this if you don’t play quickly what you have at hand.

“This is for taking care of Mils, thank you very much.” You speak, pointing at the edibles of the table. You look for your dog and you find him sleeping at his feet. “I think he likes your feet.”

He laughs looking sideways at the puppy, then looking at you. “Oh, you should not have bothered, but thanks.” He takes the package and finds your number there.

In reality you don’t hold his gaze, trying to wake up Mils, but you do it also to cover the small blush on your cheeks. He looks at the card surprised, and you see how his smile widens.

“And this?” He asks, playing the fool, while he studies your face. “God, my manners, do you want to sit?”

“I would love to. But I have a meeting in forty-five minutes.” You answer him, sorry. And a little rushed with the times. “Ah, and that is in case you ever need legal advice.” You see how his expression of amusement fades for a second and you bite the inside of your cheek. “And actually it is because I want you to have it, you can decide what to do with it.”

He nods, with the wide smile predominating again on his lips. He keeps your card and the cookie in his pockets.

“If you wanted to get a conversation with me, there were better ways.” You lower your head after he speaks. He takes advantage to snap his fingers, waking up your puppy and catching your attention. “I’m joking. It is very considerate, and quite unusual. I like it.”

Mils gets up with a jump, barking at a motorcycle that passes by. Both laugh.

“I will be several days here, I have a free week and I am recording in a studio here.” He speaks a second before you leave, his words escape from his lips as if he wanted to retain you a little more there. “Can I invite you to have a coffee some of these days?”.

The question invades you, finally. The peace that comes from him in a moment so electric as this results admirable to you.

“Yes, you can invite me to a beer too, Matty.” You answer, and both look at each other fixed when sharing a same smile.

The conversation keeps flowing without any effort, as if you continued in that same dynamic of the airport where it seems to be only you two. He winks at you with a complicity that dies in the silence but that does not need to be spoken.

The same feeling that you had when Liverpool appeared in your retinas is a little the one you have now. A kind of sweet and mischievous mystery that slips through your insides. As if all these months had given you time to bring you until here.

“Are you free tomorrow night?” He asks again, sounding more determined. You laugh tenderly when he murmurs your name reading it from the card.

“It depends for what you ask it.” You answer, with a playful tone, taking your fingers to your hair.

“Well, I was thinking of taking you to some bar around here. Nothing of formalities or those things.” His fingers hover over the cardboard of the coffee container, and then you remember that yours is cooling in your hands.

You smile at him without answering verbally, but that you don’t oppose to it gives the adequate answer to Matty.

“Do I see you tomorrow, then?”

“Yes. I will be waiting for it.”

You smile at him without losing the poise that you have been holding all the conversation, and then you say goodbye to him waving your hand.

Mils barks on the way, but when you look at him walking, he seems to go jumping in small steps without stopping moving full of happiness.

You walk to your house to then go to your office, but you feel how a dead weight removes itself from the air and even now it feels cleaner, it seems lighter now.

You notice then, that the bustle has returned to the city, you hear it in your ears and you see it in the traffic that leaves you only five minutes from being late. It seems as if the world had oiled the gears and had returned in itself.

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oh my beloveds i´m so soft <33

thanks for reading! i really hope you enjoyed it.

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