In honor of the lovely SeraphStarshine 's birthday, here's an update, you crazy kids... Love you, Starr, and hope this gets ya in the feels!

"I'm not gonna be a brother anymore?" Louis asked, knees brought up to his chest as he looked at his older brother sadly.

Matty sighed, trying not to cry as he patted Louis' kneecap. He'd just told his family about his brain hemorrhage, and it seemed his little brother had taken the news the hardest. Matty was twelve years older than Louis, but tried to be as much a part in the boy's life as his career allowed him to be. Matty was nearly out of schooling when Louis was born, and had only lived under the same roof as his brother for those short four years before he took off with his friends. In those four years he'd lived with Louis, he was rarely home anyways; always fooling around in a friend's basement on a drum kit, trying to make their band sound at least a little appealing.

Covers of other bands just weren't cutting it anymore, and Matty wanted his band to prosper.

It was simpler times then; Matty, Ross, Adam, and George sat in a decaying basement while trying to decide what would be the best name for their band: having already been known as 'Me and You Versus Them', 'Forever Enjoying Sex', and 'Talkhouse'. Temporarily, they were calling themselves 'Bigsleep', but even that wasn't cutting it for them. 'Drive Like I Do' was what they were currently called, and it was decided that this was their final change. To be a band, they had to have consistency - and that included the fucking name of their alleged band.

It was so clear in Matty's head the day he found that old Beat poetry book with scribblings in the back of it - no doubt a book his father had studied in college for his acting career. 1 June, the 1975: It was perfect, and George and Adam had agreed almost instantly - though Ross may have been a bit held back at first.

Simpler times, and now Matty was stuck back in that same cruddy basement with his brother, now fifteen, breaking this terrible news.

"I'm so sorry, Lou." He sighed, running his hand through his curly brown hair. He couldn't bare to look his brother in the eyes, in fear he'd crumble completely.

"Matty, you can't die. You're part of a band, for Christ's sake! How would George take it, or even Adam and Ross for that matter?" His little brother was outraged. Typically, telling someone you were going to die never turned out good anyways, but this seemed extra theatrical.

"I'm not telling George." Matty spoke, voice barely above a whisper as he finally locked eyes with his brother.

"You're a bloody idiot, Matthew," Louis said, glaring at the twenty-seven year old. "A righteous idiot. You can't just keep something like this from him. How do you think he'll feel if he's the one to find you- to find you..." And then he was crying, but it was okay. Sure, Louis was a boy, and boys weren't supposed to cry, but it was okay. They were in the confinements of a decaying basement, the smell of mildew in the air of the dimly lit structure. What happened in here was always their little secret, even when Louis was five, and had come to Matty crying after having broken one of their mum's favorite vases.

The older of the two went to sit directly beside his brother, wrapping his arms around him probably more affectionately than he had the day Louis was born - a complete shock to Denise and Tim Healy.

"I don't wanna lose my brother." Louis sobbed, and Matty may have let a few tears slide from his cheeks as he gripped his brother tightly. For all he knew, this may have been the last time he'd ever see the boy in this life.

"You won't lose me. I just- I won't answer you if you talk to me. I'll give you the silent treatment I did when you were seven and I was nineteen. I'll just be six feet lower than you'll ever be, and I- I'll still be looking out for you. Louis, I don't know if there's a heaven or not, but whatever it fucking takes: I will not leave you alone on this planet. If I have to, I'll possess George to annoy you for me." He spoke, trying to get even the smallest fracture of a smile out of his brother. He may not have grown up with him, but it did pain him to see his sibling in pain.

As the two went on in each other's embrace, they took no mind to their parents watching them from the top steps of the basement, their own sets of tears gliding down their faces.

~

"Another gig, another party, another night we won't return those three little words." George was sat on his bunk, lacing up a pair of sneakers before they were due at the venue. They were playing Manchester tonight, and everything had just felt far more intimate - as most shows felt for a band in their homeland.

He sighed, scratching his head as he checked his phone one last time. No texts from Matty. Where was that boy? He'd said he would only be gone an hour, but here they were: not even two hours before showtime and Matty was nowhere in sight. He contemplated sending another message to the lad, but thought better of it. If Matty was in trouble, George would've known by now...or he wouldn't have.

He huffed out a breath, downed the remnants of his water bottle, and left their bus tentatively. He made his way into the pre-show room where Ross, Adam, and John sat - looking over the set list one last time.

"George, where's Matty?" Adam asked, having been the first to take notice of George's presence in the room - and more so Matty's lack of presence in the room.

"I don't know." George admitted, and it was so very unlikely of him not to know the every little detail of Matty Healy's existence.

"Well this is shit." John spoke, sliding his saxophone reed back into his mouth, attaching the instrument to his neck strap as he wet the secret to success - the reed of course.

"Tell me something I don't know, Waughy." Ross sighed, and both George and Adam couldn't help but raise their eyebrows suspiciously towards the dark haired man.

"Waughy?" They asked in unison.

"John Waugh. Come on guys, it's not weird. We've got bigger things to worry about: like the whereabouts of our singer, and the fact that some fan mistook me for Christopher bloody Wolstenholme earlier." Ross stated, a slight whine tinting his voice towards the end.

"Who's that?" Adam asked, eyebrow furrowed.

"Bassist of the English rock band Muse. Do I really look like him? He's old and has had like ... Five kids!" Ross asked, pulling at his hair frustratedly and then going to adjust his shirt.

"Correction," Adam said, eyes locked in his phone. "He's got six: Alfie, Ava-Jo, Frankie, Ernie, Buster, and Teddi."

Ross rolled his eyes.

"Bitch, does it look like I care about the names of a thirty-something year old's kids? Half the children sound like something you'd name your dog, or a really shitty YouTuber." He snapped, putting his hands on his hips for dramatic effect.

"Obviously you do. I mean, Muse is far more famous than us anyways. Like, they've got seven studio albums, as well as multiple EPs... And a better drummer, no offense George. Not to mention the fact that their lead singer is also able to play the piano and guitar while singing," Adam stated. "So, even I just dissed myself."

"Guys, we've got bigger problems right now than the statistics of a band! Please, we've gotta find Matty." George spoke up suddenly, just about tired of hearing about Muse - not to mention the fact that Adam had just said Dominic fucking Howard was a better drummer than him, so he was a little butt-hurt by that.

"He'll be here. He's probably just gone off to smoke some weed and forgotten what time it is." Ross said, which was very un-Ross-y of his typical motherlike instincts towards the members of this band.

"You say that like it's okay! Normally, Matty can handle drugs, but like- I don't even know. These last few weeks, he's not been Matty. Guys, this is a serious fucking problem." George states, stomping his foot in irritation.

"Mate, if you were that fucking worried about him, you shouldn't have come here. You know we're on lockdown as soon as we enter the venue - something about keeping us safe against crazy fans or some shit." Adam sighs, and as much as George hated to admit it, he was right.

"Fuck you, Hann." That's all the more he could say before planting himself into a seat and rapidly messaging Matty, hoping to get a reply.

~

'Matty, where are you?'

'Show's starting soon'

'Just got to the venue, you're not here :('

'Sick fight over the band Muse, man, you missed it'

'Seriously Matty, where the fuck are you?'

'Show's starting in less than an hour. You comin?'

'Matty.'

'MATTYYYYYYYYY'

George Get-In-My-Bed-ford Daniel is calling you...

"Hello?" Matty had just read all his messages, finally getting out his goodbyes before taking off towards the venue in his taxi.

"Matty! Where the fuck are you, mate? I'm worried sick, we all are - okay, maybe me more than the rest..." George asked feverishly.

"I'm coming, mate," Matty chuckled. "Got held up at my parents 's all."

"Oh, okay. Well, I'll tell the lads you're on your way. Be safe, Matty..." George spoke softly, and Matty could've only hope there was a deeper meaning behind it.

"I always am. See you soon, George." And with that, he hung up.

~

The minute George saw Matty's brown, curly locks walk through the door, the shorter of the two was engulfed in a warm embrace.

"Was worried sick, Matty!" He exclaimed, actually going so far as to kissing the top of Matty's head.

"I'm okay, babe." Matty laughed, not necessarily meaning for the pet name to come out, but once it had, there was no taking it back. George stiffened in the embrace, but soon loosened up a bit.

"I- I'm glad you're okay." He coughed awkwardly, taking the boy's jacket and hanging it up before leading him to the table where the others were huddled around.

They went over the set list one more time - just to be safe - and then happily made their way backstage. The sounds of hundreds of thousands of screaming fans could be heard faintly, and it brought a big smile to each of the boys' faces.

"Ready to rock?" George asked Matty, as they had been standing near each other.

"Let's roll."

The banners rose and the men made their way to their respected instruments and began a few opening rifts before Matty introduced the band, and then the gig was off.

Throughout the entire performance though, George couldn't seem to get Matty's pet name out of his head. He didn't understand why every sweet gesture Matty pursued meant so much to him as of recent, or why he gave it so much thought. All he knew was that he was hopelessly in love with his best friend of more than twelve years, and hoped to finally work up the courage to act on these feelings soon - before he lost the chance.

~

Matty played the show as enthusiastically as he could, spite forgetting an entire verse in 'Girls' that actually made him want to groan aloud. His brain seemed to work on sensory overload that evening, with the lights and the flashing of cameras, and he considered if maybe he'd taken a higher dosage of medicine than he'd originally intended to.

Of course, this was everything running through his mind before all he could hear was Louis' voice:

"I'm not going to be a brother anymore."

And then after that, he was pretty sure he blacked out.