“How about this.” I suggested gently “we go to sleep now, you get some rest, and we’ll talk about it in the morning?”
“Okay. Stay?” Matthew croaked, voice cracking.
“Course.”
By the time he’d gotten ready for bed he seemed to have calmed down, red, swollen eyes the only real sign that he’d been crying.
I felt relieved for that. The feeling was quickly followed by an awareness of how cold it was without a shirt, since we hadn’t originally planned to stay the night and hadn’t brought appropriate nightwear- I shivered. Matthew, extremely fast to pick up on it, wordlessly held out a sweatshirt for me.
“That’s yours.” I pointed out, glancing at him, corner of my mouth quirking upwards in an appreciative smile.
“I’m aware, believe it or not.”
I shrugged, tugging Matthew’s sweatshirt on over my sweatpants and snuggling under the duvet, tugging it up underneath my chin.
“I’m going down for a chamomile.” Matthew said quietly, fidgeting where he stood “do you want one?”
I wanted to kiss him so badly, maybe wipe the desolate expression off his pretty face.
“Can I have some tea?” I asked Matthew, equally as quietly, instead.
“It’ll keep you up.”
“It won’t.” I argued, keeping my tone moderate but rolling my eyes.
“Fine.”
He appeared again, not long after, with two mugs, just as I was starting to doze.
I beamed at him as he slid into the other side of the bed and passed me my mug.
“I feel selfish.” Matthew admitted as I curled into him, assuming my usual position with my head on his chest and pressing a kiss there.
“Why?”
“Because…Stryker’s just lost his dad and he’s having a visibly hard time and my problems aren’t nearly as significant as his right now and-“
“Shut up.” I stopped his word vomit “that’s not how shit works. If you’re feeling bad about something you need to tell someone, not…” I gestured vaguely.
Matthew got the point.
“Plus, just because Stryker’s having a hard time, doesn’t mean you’re not allowed to have one too.” I added.
Matthew shrugged, not looking convinced.
I glared up at him and bit his ear, hard.
“Ow! Theo!”
“You don’t believe me.”
“I do.” He grunted “you’re right. Sorry.”
I smiled smugly.
“You’re impossible.” Matthew added under his breath.
I gaped and smacked his chest “‘m not impossible. ‘N angel, I am.”
