“I just got scared.”I repeated.
“I know.” Matthew said gently, “I understand.”
“I don’t know…how to deal with this. With how I feel.”
“I get it.” He nodded “really, I…it’s okay. We’ll work something out.”
The doubt must have shown on my face, because he sighed, expression softening.
“Listen.” He murmured “just…is this okay?” He asked gently, pressing a hesitant kiss to my lips. I felt amusement flicker inmy chest “we’ve been fucking ever since I got here and you’re asking ifthat’sokay?”
Matthew paused but stayed close. “Yeah.” He mumbled, kissing me again, once, sweetly. “I meant is itstillokay?”
I huffed out a breath, tilting my head back to rest against the wall we’d stopped next to.
“I don’t know.” I admitted softly. There was something so intimate enclosed in that simple kiss. It made me yearn for him and want to push him away all at once. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t want to feel like this.
Uncertainty crossed Matthew’s face and he made to pull away, but I stopped him, fisting his shirt and swallowing hard “it’s not you.” I mumbled “I- I wantyou. I just don’t want…I don’t want you to be a boy.” I admitted, voice cracking.
“Nobody will find out.” He assured me, eyes burning with earnest.
“Stryker will.” I scoffed “he’ll clock us within three minutes.”
“He’s not a problem.”
“I know he’s not.” I forced myself to hold his gaze, trying to pick out the reason behind his forlorn expression “you okay?”
“Yeah.” Matthew replied quietly “why wouldn’t I be?”
“You said it wasn’t a good time.” I licked my dry lips, fidgeting with my hands “and you look like shit.”
He scoffed “way to boost a guy’s confidence.”
“I’m serious.” I insisted “you-“
“It’s my…my mum’s death anniversary.” Matthew croaked, cutting me off “and I…I should be there. At home. And I’m not.”
“Your mum’s…?” I hadn’t known that. There were a lot of things I didn’t know about Matthew.
“Dead. When I was thirteen.” He confirmed.
“I’m sorry” I offered.
“Yeah. Me too.” He shook his head “doesn’t matter.”
“It does.”
“It was a long time ago.” He grit out, shooting me a glare that was a clear signal he didn’t want to talk about it. Itwasn'ta long time ago, though. It was only three years ago.
I huffed out a breath but nodded “alright.” Licking my lips, I murmured “I went to see Stryker today.”
“Oh?” His tone shifted, interest piqued “how is he?”
“Awake, but…y’know, he’s been better.”
“Yeah.” He huffed out a laugh that wasn’t quite a laugh but more a sound to fill the silence “sepsis isn’t great.”
“He wants us to spend Christmas at his. Me, you and Jack.” I met Matthew’s hazel orbs which were eyeing me with a burning intensity. Conflicting emotions shone through them.
