“Don’t let go of my hand through this, please" w/ Matty!
A/N: This is a little bit late but you know, better late than never! I hope you like it!! :)
They were always fucking idiots. George and Matty together, especially under the influence of one or more mind-altering substances, was a recipe for disaster. Stupid dares, dangerous stunts, always trying to one-up the other in feats to prove their manliness, or rather, their stupidity. You’d think after the time George broke his shoulder they’d be more careful, but they never learned their lesson.
“I dare you to do a gainer off the drum kit,” George said during soundcheck, Matty sitting on the edge of the kit while they practiced, I sat in the middle of the stage, taking polaroid pictures and watching them perfect the sound like they did every night, in every venue. It got repetitive, but it was also a relaxing moment before the show began, before the arena was filled with screaming fans, before I was stuffed backstage, watching the boys perform from either behind a curtain or on a tiny monitor.
“Easy,” Matty said setting his mic on the ground before standing up, balancing carefully on the round platform before doing a crude backflip onto the stage. I clapped from my spot and we all laughed. That was nothing.
What was really something- that happened later that night. Matty tried to repeat his stunt again, this time in front of a sold out crowd wearing heeled boots. I wasn’t right in front this time, and I probably would’ve discouraged him if I was. This time, a combination of the unstable heels and the mic chord he had forgotten to put out of the way caused him to slip and he landed with a sickening ‘SNAP’. In that moment, everything stopped. George immediately got up, running around to the front of the kit, Adam and Ross joining him as soon as they realized what happened. Matty was cursing like a madman- subsequently, his mic was turned off. The house lights went up and I fought my way through personnel right up to side stage, but they wouldn’t let me any further. George carried Matty offstage and I joined his side as soon as I could. Upon closer look I could see how serious it was. His leg was broken. So broken. So very broken.
‘You fucking idiot!’ I had wanted to scream at him, but I was too scared; he was too scared.
“They’ve called a medic, baby, you’ll be fine,” I told him, brushing his sweaty curls from his face as George laid him on a couch backstage.
“George, I need my weed,” he shouted, gesturing frantically towards the table where the drug and all its accessories laid.
“Jamie says you can’t have any. You’ve gotta go to the hospital and he doesn’t want anything illegal in your system,” George informed him, and Matty cursed again.
I grabbed his hand, snatching it out of midair as he continued to wave it. I clasped his fingers tightly between mine and brought his hand to my lips to kiss. “It’s going to be okay, baby,” I consoled him again, “If you just wait now, they’ll get you some nice painkillers later. Maybe some Percocet or vicoden,” I told him, half joking, but I knew it would make him feel better.
“It hurts so fucking bad,” he groaned, and I nodded in sympathy.
“I know, baby, I know.”
“Don’t let go of my hand through this, please,” he begged me, shutting his eyes tightly as I knew it was getting harder for him to withstand the pain.
“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not letting go.”