Unwritten | Matty Healy | AU

"When you love somebody, you start to realize that it doesn’t matter whether they’re broken or flawed. You realize that sometimes it’s those very flaws that make them beautiful beyond belief." Lilac is a wild girl with electric blue hair. Matty is an innocent face with unruly curls. Initially they're intrigued of one another, but that forms into something greater. Something neither of them can control.

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1. PROLOGUE


PROLOGUE

 

 

LILAC'S POV

 

Another round of drinks are passed around the table. The three girls and one boy sitting around me smile before each grabbing a hold of the small glass placed in front of them and throwing their heads back. I follow suit, feeling the familiar burn of alcohol as it dashes down my esophagus.

 

Mia looks in my direction, "that one might've sent me over the edge." She squints her eyes and pats her chest, as if she can still feel the burning sensation. I can hear Lauren, Violet, and George laughing.

 

"There sure aren't many people here tonight," I say as I look around the small bar. There's maybe four or five tables that have people sitting at them. My eyes take in the stage behind me, where employees of the bar are cleaning up the last set and preparing for the next. I watch a young man carry out a keyboard, along with another who carries out a microphone stand.

 

"I wonder where everyone is," Violet says before taking a sip of the fruity drink in front of her. She grabs of lock of her hair and throws it over her shoulder.

 

I reach for my beverage and just as I'm taking a sip I hear the doors to the bar open, and a mass of eight or nine people walk through the doors. A hoard of couples makes their way onto the wooden floor and they gather at two tables. I watch a few of them walk to the counter, presumably to order some drinks.

 

"That's better," I hear George say. When I turn to look at him he shrugs his shoulders and smiles at me. I just shrug my shoulders back. I break my eye contact with him when I hear someone tapping on the microphone on stage. I have to turn around in my stool to face the stage once again to take in the sounds. A worker places the microphone back into the stand and then walks off the stage.

 

The stage lights dim a bit and I can hear a girl from the mass group gasp and giggle with excitement. After a few seconds a lanky man makes his way out on stage. I take in the sight of his appearance as he quietly makes his way across the stage to the keyboard. He's wearing tight black jeans, which adorn holes in the knees, a button up navy blue shirt that is half buttoned up, and a pair of slick black leather dress shoes. My eyes absorb the ink imprinted into the flesh on his chest and his arm.

 

I try to look at his face but his hair is in the way. He takes a seat down at the keyboard and takes one lanky hand and runs it through his unruly hair. The beautiful curls sit atop his head for a moment, but then fall loosely back down, covering his features. He never looks up from the keyboard, he focuses all of his attention on it.

 

Without saying anything, his fingers begin caressing the keys. A beautiful melody is introduced to my ears. The man continues playing for a minute and I turn to reach for my drink. As I'm sipping on my drink I suddenly hear a strikingly beautiful voice begin singing. I immediately turn in my stool once again and look at the mysteriously beautiful man sitting just a few feet in front of me.

 

His accent is thick and it distorts his words, making it difficult to understand what he's saying, but I can tell that the lyrics portray something of meaning to him. His face is contorted in pain, his body has been taken over by the melody of the music. He is completely and totally lost within the music.

 

For the first time since I've visited this bar the entire audience is staring, mesmerized by the man on stage. Everyone is completely lost within the music he's playing. Nobody moves, everyone just stares at the broken man who's playing his heart out on the stage. My eyes catch a woman in the far corner of the bar, who's crying. The man beside her grabs her hand and lovingly holds it.

 

When I turn back to the stage, he's whipping his hair wildly but his fingers are still caressing the keys as if they're the petals of a rose. I stare at him in awe, unable to rip my eyes away from this beautiful disaster.

 

His fingers begin to slow on the keys and I feel my heart shatter, as if it were a piece of china - straight into a million tiny fragments. When he ceases to play anymore, the crowd roars into applause. He looks up from the keyboard for the first time since sitting down, face covered by the rambunctious curls. "Thank you," is all he says before he walks off the stage.

 

I sit there, staring at the stage. "Lily!" Lauren's voice breaks through, and I turn in my seat. The four of them are staring at me.

 

"What?" I ask obliviously. I can hear Mia begin talking but suddenly I notice those unruly curls making their way out of the bar. "I need to use the washroom," I interrupt whoever was talking and head towards the front door of the bar.

 

When I take a step outside I look around but I can't find him anywhere. There's people walking every which way down the street, but none of them are him. I begin making my way up the street when I pass an alleyway, I look down it and see a cloud of smoke. I see the lanky figure I've been looking for leaning up against the back of the bar.

 

I saunter towards him and at some point he hears my footsteps and turns to look at me. He inhales on his cigarette and then smirks at me before blowing the smoke past his lips. "Hi," I shyly say.

 

"Hello," is all he responds. He takes a step further towards me so that we're both standing just a foot apart, under the shelter of a light.

 

"I just wanted to tell you that you were really good." I mumble out. I have to look away for a moment, out of shyness. I inhale his scent, one of weed and cigarettes mixed with his cologne. "I really liked your performance."

 

"I really like your hair," he says with the cigarette between his lips. His lanky fingers take a piece of my electric blue hair and he runs his fingers along it.

 

"Thanks." I shuffle awkwardly before looking up at him again. I can finally see his features now that there's sufficient light and no hair in his eyes. He licks his dark pink plump lips and sucks on the stick of poison again. His hazel eyes look down at me as he too, takes in my features. "I'm Lilac, but you can call me Lily, or Lila."

 

"Lilac," he drawls out. I love the way it sounds on his foreign tongue. "Sorry to be an ass but I have to go Lilac. I'll see you soon, yeah?" He finishes off the cigarette in his hands and stomps on it. He starts making his way out of the alleyway towards the street.

 

I run a few steps towards him, "but wait!"

 

He turns to face me.

 

"What's your name?" I ask sheepishly.

 

"Matty," he smiles and then saunters off.

 

 

 

A/N: so i'm not entirely sure how i feel about this?? i've been wanting to create a matty fic for months (he's the loml) and i just had to, but i'm not sure if i'll continue with this idea? so if you like what you've read, please comment and such otherwise it will not continue! i do have other fics running and so i need some sort of commitment (which would be comments and people adding this to their library) so if you want this to continue do so! the more attention this receives, the faster i will have updates ready!

 

also, the photo of the stunning woman with beautifully blue hair you might've (or not) noticed at the beginning is the woman who i imagine lilac as. her name is dj tigerlily (she's literally so gorgeous)!!!

 

 if you have any ideas/suggestions then comment with that as well!

 

love you x

 

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