Chris’wife

You had always been wary of the closeness between your boyfriend and your best friend.

It wasn’t jealousy—at least that’s what you told yourself. You wanted them to get along as it would’ve been awkward if they didn’t. But sometimes, their smiles felt too private, their touches lingered just a second too long, and the way their eyes found each other in a crowded room made your stomach twist in knots.

Still, you ignored it. You had to. After all, these were the two people you loved the most in the world. You told yourself it was all in your head, that your own insecurities were painting them in such a bad light. And even when they started spending time with you, you silenced the small voice beside you that begged you to question it. 

You were too blinded by happiness. You were happy that your two favourite people in the world had not only cherished you deeply, but also got along so well.

But now, standing frozen in the bedroom doorway after returning from visiting your parents, your breath catches in your throat—ragged and shallow—as your eyes burn, the tears blurring your vision, but unfortunately not enough to hide the sight in front of you. 

Chris, the person you thought you’d spend forever with, is tangled up in the sheets with Ani, your best friend. Their naked bodies move together in a way that leaves no room for doubt that they’ve done this before, and the sounds that spill from their lips pierces through the air.

“Oh my god!” It’s Ani who notices you first, her face contorting in horror as she turns her head at the right moment. She scrambles to grab the blanket to cover herself as if that will erase what’s already been done.

Confused by her outburst, Chris props himself up on his elbows, his brows furrowing for a split second before his gaze finds yours. His eyes widen in panic, his face draining of colour as the realisation hits him like cold water.

“W-wait, wait, wait,” he stammers quickly, shoving Ani off him as he stumbles out of bed, his movements frantic and clumsy as his hands shake, reaching for you. “It’s not—it’s not what it looks like, I—please, let me just—I need to explain.”

“Don’t touch me,” you choke out, barely able to speak through the lump resting in your throat. You take a step back, your hands trembling as you push him away from you.

“Please,” he begs, his voice cracking under the weight of his regret. The tears begin to well in his eyes, but they only make you angrier. “Please, baby. Don’t—don’t do this. Just hear me out. Please—”

You can’t bear to look at him any longer, so your gaze shifts to Ani who is sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching the blanket to her bare chest. Her face is flushed and her eyes are glassy with bubbling tears, but she doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t have to. The guilt etched across her face says enough.

Turning away from both of them, you spin on your heel and walk out of the room, your legs trembling beneath you which makes it harder for you to move in a straight line. Chris calls out your name, his voice cracking, but you don’t stop. You can hear him fumbling behind you, the sound of his feet hitting the floor as he hurriedly follows while grabbing his boxers, pulling them on in a rush as he chases after you.

“Wait!” he cries, his hand catching your arm just as you round the corner. His touch burns, and you yank yourself free with a sob, slapping his hand away as the tears stream down your cheeks. 

You’re shaking now, your chest heaving with every breath as the weight of what you’ve just seen crashes down on you.

“Please… please, baby,” Chris pleads, refusing to let up. “Just listen to me, okay? Please. Don’t walk away from us—don’t throw this away.”

You freeze, his words hitting you like a slap to the face. “Don’t walk away from us?” you find yourself repeating, words riddled with disbelief. “Are… are you serious right now? You walked away from us the second you started fucking her!”

Chris flinches, his face crumpling as your words cut through him. “I-I’m sorry,” he whispers, breaking into a sob as he takes a step closer, his hands trembling as he cups your face. “I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean it, okay? I didn’t—please, just don’t go. I love you. I love you so much. I love you.”

The pain in his voice only deepens your own, and you shake your head repeatedly, your tears falling faster as you try to pull away from him, but he doesn’t let go. Instead, he presses his forehead against yours, his own tears mingling with yours as his grip tightens.

You want to push him away, to scream and curse and hate him with every fiber of your being, but your body betrays you as the sobs wrack through you. Your knees buckle beneath your weight, and Chris catches you with ease, his arms wrapping around you tight as you collapse against him.

He holds you like he’s trying to piece you back together, to try and mend what’s been broken as his own cries echo yours. He strokes the back of your head and whispers apologies you don’t want to hear. 

Chris loves you—he swears it, over and over again—but love doesn’t fix anything.

He loves you, but he’s destroyed you too.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet me,” Chris whispers softly as you stiffly sit across from him at the table in the café. The room feels too calm and chilled compared to what’s brewing inside you both. It’s been a little over a week since you last saw Chris, having pulled out of his arms and bolting out of the house in a rush after your breakdown. “I’m, uh.. I’m happy that you came.”

“You and your brothers didn’t exactly give me a choice,” you reply coldly, and the embarrassed flush that creeps up his neck tells you he knows exactly what you mean. His brothers had practically begged you to hear him out, to give him one last chance to explain himself.

You had agreed, but not because you wanted to. You had agreed because you needed the closure—you needed answers.

Your hands tremble as you rub them together for warmth as you can feel them tingle with numbness. Chris notices this instantly. Of course he does. He always did have a way of reading you—knowing what you needed before you even had to ask, and just like he would have done before, he reached out, his hand hovering over yours.

“C’mere, let me—”

“No,” you yank your hands back before his warmth can touch you, despite craving the heat that emits from his palms. You refuse to let him soothe you. Not now. Not after everything.

Chris flinches at your harsh words and actions, “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I just… I didn’t—”

 “Can you just tell me what you wanted to say?” you interrupt, your tone a lot colder than you meant it. 

“Everything that happened that day… it didn’t mean shit,” Chris jumps straight into it, his voice raw and desperate as he leans forward on the table. “It was a huge fucking mistake, okay? And—and I don’t even know how it got that far. I fucked up. Bad. I know that. I didn’t mean for it to happen, and I didn’t want it to happen. You… you’ve got to believe me.”

You let his words hang in the air, only hearing the distant clatter of cups and the coffee machines humming. Then, you speak, your voice steady but ice-cold. “How did Ani get into the house?” 

Chris freezes, his face paling. His lips part like he’s about to respond, but no words come out.

You press on, “How did her clothes come off? How did she get naked in our bed? How did you end up inside her?” Your breath hitches for a moment, the bile rising in your throat. “Did she do it all by herself?”

Chris’ expression crumbles, and you believe he might actually break down right here in the middle of this café. But instead, he shakes his head quickly, his hands trembling on the table.

“Ani means nothing to me. Nothing. But you mean everything to me, you always have,” he says, licking his lips nervously. “You’re the first woman I ever fell in love with, okay? And I swear to god, you’ll be the last.”

Tears sting your eyes, but you blink them back, unwilling to let him see you cry. Chris, on the other hand, makes no effort to hide as his shoulders shake slightly, his bright blues red-rimmed and glassy.

“I just… shit, baby. I love you so much, and I can’t forgive myself for what I did. I’ll never forgive myself. Ever.”

“Chris,” you speak his name, and his eyes snap up to meet yours, something desperate and hopeful swimming in his irises. “You don’t get to talk about love, Chris. Not after what you did. Love doesn’t look like that.”

Chris opens his mouth to respond, but you hold up a hand to silence him. “You don’t get to apologise either. You don’t get to tell me it was a ‘mistake’ and that it ‘doesn’t mean shit’ because you made that choice in the first place. You chose her.”

He shakes his head quickly as his tears fall freely. “What? No... no, I didn’t choose her, baby. I—”

“And you can’t say you love me when you were in bed with another woman. In the same bed where we shared our first kiss. In the same bed where I gave you my virginity. In the same bed where we made promises about our future together.”

“W-we can still do that,” Chris stammers, filled with fragile hope. “Baby, look at me. We can still keep those promises, okay? We can still have that future,” his hand twitches on the table like he wants to reach for yours. “We can fix this, I swear—”

“What are you not understanding?!” you cut him off, your voice rising in a way that startles even you. Chris flinches back at your volume, his wide and tearful eyes locked on yours. “That promise was broken the second you got into bed with Ani. You fucked up everything we had. Everything.”

“I…” his voice cracks as he tries to speak. “I’m so sorry,”

His shoulders sag, and he wipes his nose and eyes with the sleeve of his jacket, looking like a pitiful man who’s just lost everything—and he has. 

You shake your head, tears now spilling from your eyes as you bite down hard on your bottom lip, trying to ground yourself. You turn your head away from him and toward the window, watching the world outside as it moves on without you, and your stomach churns as you spot couples strolling by; their hands intertwined, their faces lit up with the kind of love and happiness you used to know.

One couple walks past, laughing as they nuzzle into each other’s arms, and the sight makes your chest tighten, their joy feeling like a slap in the face to remind you of what you’ve lost too. 

It feels cruel, like the universe is mocking you.

You swallow hard as the bitterness consumes you. The thought of someone else’s love life makes you feel sick. It’s as if their happiness is rubbing salt into a wound that’s already bleeding you dry. 

You want to run. You want to scream. You want to cry. You want to disappear.

Actually, you just want to go home. To go home and to shut the world out.

“I’m gonna go,” your voice is quiet, but Chris hears it loud and clear as you push yourself up from your seat, zipping your coat as your hands tremble.

His eyes widen in panic, and he shoots to his feet. “Wait—wait, please,” he begs. “Don’t go. Please just… just stay a little longer. I—”

“Don’t contact me again,” you say, watching as he blinks, taken aback. “We’re done. For good. We… we’re never getting back together, Chris… not after this.”

Chris’ tears fall harder as he chokes out, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Before you can stop him, he grabs your arm and pulls you into a hug. You freeze as his arms wrap around you tightly—desperately—and you let him hold you, only because you know it’ll be the last time. You pat his back awkwardly, the gesture hollow and distant, but you don’t pull away. You let him cling to you as he sobs into your shoulder, his body shaking against yours.  

Finally, he loosens his hold, his tear-streaked face tilting to meet your gaze. His eyes are all red, swollen, pleading. 

“I love you.”

“Goodbye, Chris.”

And with that, you turn and walk away, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the café, refusing to look back at him as you push open the door—not even when you hear his broken sobs behind you.

“Chris hasn’t been sleeping well. He’s not eating either,” Nick says as soon as he walks through the front door of your apartment. He doesn’t even stop to take off his jacket as he heads straight for the sofa where you’re curled up under a blanket, a pint of ice-cream nestled in your lap. “He comes out of his room with bags under his eyes. Sometimes he doesn’t come out at all. It’s… it’s getting concerning.”

“Shame,” you mutter, scooping a spoonful of vanilla ice-cream and shoving it into your mouth. You keep your eyes glued to the TV as you pretend Nick isn’t even there. “Did you know the actor in this is forty? He looks twenty-seven at most… insane.”

Nick glances at the screen. “Haven’t you already seen this episode?”

“Yep.”

Your attention stays fixed on the TV as the main character and her love interest bicker back and forth over something stupid, and you let out a soft scoff, spooning another mouthful of ice-cream into your mouth.

It’s so much easier to focus on fiction problems than your own.

However, Nick doesn’t take the hint.

“Chris said you’re completely done with him, like, I’m talking there’s no chance of you two getting back together,” his words come out slow and cautious as he eyes you. “I think you should reconsider, you know? Maybe just give him one more chance to fully explain himself. Just the two of you—no distractions.”

You glance down at your phone, ignoring the knot tightening in your chest. “I think it’s supposed to be really sunny tomorrow,” you say lightly, opening your weather app. “I might head down to the park or something.”

Nick blinks, baffled. “Are you even listening to me? Chris is—”

“Oh my god, Nick. Just stop!” 

The words explode from your mouth before you can stop them, and Nick physically recoils, his eyes widening in shock with his hand firm against his chest. You throw the blanket off your lap and rub your palm against your forehead, exhaling heavily as the frustration burns through your veins. 

“You do this all the time… Chris did that, Chris did that. Chris feels like this, Chris feels like that—I don’t care!”

“Hey… calm—”

“Look, I know he’s your brother. I get that, but you’re constantly talking about him. You bring him up in every single conversation we have now, and you’re pitying him like he’s the victim in all of this!” The tears begin to well in your eyes as your voice cracks, but you don’t stop as you feel the anger bubbling up, making you powerless to contain it. “Chris wasn’t the one who got cheated on, Nick. Chris wasn’t the one who had to find a new place to live. Chris wasn’t the one who walked in on the love of his life balls deep in his best friend!”

Nick raises his hands in a defensive gesture, his voice softening. “I’m just trying to—”

“You know, you haven’t even asked me how I’m feeling. Not even once,” your voice wavers now, raw and broken as you stare at him with tears dripping down your cheeks. “You come over just to shove information about him down my throat. You… you’re making it impossible for me to breathe. It’s like I can’t even catch a break from him even though we broke up four weeks ago. Four weeks, Nick.”

“I just wanted to—”

“So, what do you even tell him when you see him?” you cut him off, your tone sharp. You’re aware that interrupting him all the time is starting to affect him as his jaw tightens a little, but you don’t care. “Do you tell him how shitty I’ve looked or felt? Do you tell him that I cried for days until I was too numb to cry anymore? Do you tell him that I spent weeks wallowing in self-hatred wondering when I had become such a shitty girlfriend that he felt the need to cheat on me? Do you tell him that I blamed myself for all of it? That I thought I wasn’t good enough?”

Nick stares at you, stunned into silence. He rubs the back of his neck, avoiding your gaze as he looks down. “It’s not like that,” he mutters. “I try to cheer him up, okay? He’s a—”

“You try to cheer him up,” you repeat with a bitter, humourless laugh. You sniffle, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your sweater. “That’s great, Nick. That’s all I needed to know.”

Nick frowns as he takes a step toward you, “You’re taking everything I say the wrong way—”

“You’re a really shitty friend, Nick,” you cut him off once again, and the words hit him like a punch to the throat. You can see it in the way his shoulders slump and his face falls. “It’s good to know where I stand with you on your friendship scale. Or are you only acting this way because it’s your brother? He gets a free pass?”

“I…” he opens his mouth to respond, but no words come out as he looks at you helplessly.

“Just get out of my apartment,” you say firmly. “Go console your brother… make sure he’s all fine and well,” you turn on your heel, heading toward your bedroom with every intention of shutting the door and locking the world out. 

But before you turn the corner, you pause, glancing back over your shoulder to see Nick who hasn’t moved an inch; standing there frozen with his eyes filled with tears and guilt as he stares at you.

“I don’t want to see any of your faces again.”

it was…unusual. especially for matt. you were away with your family on holiday during a college break, so you haven’t seen matt for at least a few weeks. he definitely has seen you. of course he has. with knowing that he was watching, you even set your phone up for him, all nice, and angling just perfect so he can watch, so he knows that you know.

but when you came back, when matt was already waiting for you on the parking lot infront of your dorm complex, and he looked…very different. not bad different, but…different. he stood up straight from being leaned against his car, walking towards you with a smile.

“hey.” he greeted softly, going to pull you into a hug, but you stopped him.

your hand was up infront of his chest, keeping him from stepping closer as your eyes roamed over his face—his facial hair—with a slight frown on your face.

“what’s all this?” you asked, finger swirling in the air, pointing the the outgrown beard that sat there.

“what?” matt asked, returning the same frown you were sending his way, his fingers ruffling trough the fine hairs on his face.

it wasn’t anything unusual, not normally, but for matt, it was. he’s always kept his beard trimmed, maybe letting it grow out to a certain point, but never this much. you took a step closer, closing the distance between you two to give him a kiss. after all, you hadn’t seen your boyfriend in weeks. he kissed you back. still confused, but never turning down the feeling of your soft lips on his. when you pulled back to look at him again, your face kept the same expression.

“feels weird with that full thing on your face. scratching the fuck outta me.” you mumbled, bending down to grab your bags and starting to walk your way to the entrance of your dorm building.

matt stopped you, taking the heavier bag right out of your hands before following you towards the door. “you don’t like it?”

you didn’t answer his question until your keys turned, unlocking the door. “it’s not bad.” you shrugged, continuing to make your way to the dorm room you’d surprisingly missed a lot while being on holiday.

when you finally put your handbag down, kicking your shoes off and throwing your jacket over the chair, your body flopped down on the bed. you sighed, relaxing into the mattress as you watched matt put the big duffle bag loaded with your clothes down on the floor next to your bed. he sat down beside you on the bed, taking his shoes off before laying down with you. the both of you laid there in a comfortable silence for a moment, your body stretching to relieve some tension in your muscles from the long car ride. when you turned to lay on your side, matt was already looking at you, his usual empty expression making your heart skip a beat.

when he used to look at you like that before you had admitted your feelings to each other, it would make you feel disappointed sometimes. because, even though he kept entertaining the game you played, making his own rules and starting to fire back, you were almost one hundred percent certain that he had no interest in you. but now—now it had a different meaning. there was something behind that cold gaze, something that made your breath catch in your throat. you knew he loved you. and that’s what mattered now.

“i missed you.” you whispered, fingers grazing his hand.

he didn’t say it back, didn’t have to. you knew he’d missed you too. the screenshots you couldn’t resist taking when he texted you how he wished you were here with him were more than enough. he moved his hand when your fingertips brushed over it, placing it on top of yours, interlocking your fingers with his own.

“do you want me to shave the beard?”

the question caught you off guard. he sounded almost…insecure? maybe. maybe you just caught it the wrong way. either way, you shook your head no. it did look incredibly attractive on him.

you couldn’t help the way your mind played with the little thoughts of just how beneficial this beard could be. without another word, you closed the space between you two, pressing your lips to his in a slow, testing kiss. the feeling of his beard scratching your cheeks and chin was new, but not unpleasant. for whatever reason, it seemed to make it more intense.

his lips moved with yours in that quiet, steady way you hadn’t realized you missed so much until now. there was no rush—just the slow, building heat that came with being apart too long. your fingers crept up to his jaw, grazing the scratchy texture of his beard again, and this time, you didn’t hide the shiver it sent down your spine. matt felt it. you knew he did.

he pulled back slightly, eyes narrowing just a little, reading you like he always did when things started getting heavy. “you like it,” he said lowly, not a question—an observation, one laced with quiet amusement.

you didn’t answer right away. just looked at him, pupils already blown wider, your breathing picking up. then you nodded, slowly. “it feels… different. good.”

that was all he needed.

he shifted his body lower without a word, pressing a lingering kiss to your stomach before tugging down your pants and underwear in one fluid motion. he didn’t say anything, but you caught the twitch at the corner of his mouth when he noticed just how wet you already were. his beard brushed your inner thigh as he kissed it, soft at first, then rougher as he moved closer to where you needed him most. the first swipe of his tongue made your back arch off the bed—but it was the burn of the coarse hair dragging across your sensitive skin that made you moan, your fingers tightening around the sheets.

“fuck, matt…” you breathed out, your legs twitching slightly from how overstimulating it already was.

he didn’t respond, didn’t stop—he doubled down, eating you out with a purpose, tongue firm and steady, beard rubbing mercilessly with every movement of his mouth. the friction was overwhelming in the best way. maddening. he was soaking it in—your reaction, the way your hips pushed into his face, your fists tightening in the sheets.

you were close. embarrassingly close. your thighs were trembling, and your stomach clenched tight as the orgasm built fast, all-consuming.

“don’t stop,” you begged, voice breaking around the edges. “don’t—”

but he did.

he pulled back suddenly, lips glistening, chest heaving slightly, and that cold look was back—but now it was charged, feral, barely restrained. your eyes met his, lips parted, heart racing, and you were about to curse him out until he pushed up, pulling his hoodie off and leaning over you in one smooth motion.

“turn over,” he said, his voice rough, already undoing his jeans.

you didn’t argue. didn’t need to. you shifted onto your stomach, bracing your arms against the mattress. he climbed over you, fitting himself behind you like it was second nature—because it was now. it always had been. he lined himself up, slid in slow but deep, and groaned against your neck the moment he bottomed out. his beard scratched at your skin again, but this time at a different angle—along the base of your neck, your shoulder, your jaw as he moved. he kept his face there the entire time, buried against your skin, breathing hard, whispering things you couldn’t fully make out through the haze of sensation. his thrusts were slow at first—dragging, drawn out—like he wanted to make you feel every inch of him, every inch of what you’d both missed while you were gone.

“missed you,” he mumbled against your skin, lips brushing the spot just beneath your ear.

you clenched around him hard at the sound of it, overwhelmed with the heat, the intensity, the intimacy of it all. his beard scratched you again as he pressed kisses along your jaw. you weren’t even fully thinking when you said it, the words spilling out between soft gasps and sharp breaths. you just couldn’t help yourself.

“so you missed me, huh?” you mumbled into the pillow, voice laced with a kind of teasing that only came when you felt like you had the upper hand. “actually said it out loud this time.”

for half a second, you swore matt stilled. just barely. his breath hot against your skin. you could almost hear the shift in his head—how your tone flipped something inside him. how that tiny bit of cockiness in your voice was exactly the wrong move if you wanted to keep things gentle.

because then he moved.

deeper. harder. without warning.

your mouth fell open in a choked moan, your whole body jolting forward from the force of it. “matt—” you gasped, trying to catch your breath, but he didn’t let up.

“say it again,” he said low against your ear, voice suddenly sharp and dangerous in that way that always made your stomach flip. his pace didn’t slow, not even a little. if anything, it got rougher, more deliberate. punishing.

you tried to hold on—your pride, your breath, your voice—but all of it crumbled when he fucked you into the mattress like that. relentless. every drag of his hips bruising, every thrust pulling a wrecked sound from your throat.

“thought so,” he scoffed, beard scratching your neck as he kissed your shoulder again—messy and hot, lips dragging open across sweat-slick skin. “all that attitude… n’ you can’t even fuckin’ answer.”

your fingers clawed at the sheets, legs trembling from how fast everything unraveled. any thoughts of control, of teasing him, of being smug? gone. completely gone.

he had you—right where he always wanted you. and you didn’t even want to fight it anymore. you didn’t even realize you’d started shaking until matt slowed down, until the rhythm turned from harsh and rough into something deliberate, coaxing. his hand found yours, fingers threading tight like he was anchoring you—like he needed you just as much.

“y’wanna come f’me, baby?” he whispered against your skin, his other hand reaching around to toy with your clit.

your body jerked back into his when his fingertips started rubbing tight, slow circles on the sensitive nub. “please..”

your little whimper made him double his efforts. but not in a rough way. he held you trough it, talked you trough it. his lips placing soft, comforting kisses along your shoulder as your orgasm washed over you, legs fighting not to give out. matt was quick to follow, burying his face in your neck. his groan—desperate from how long it’s been since he had you like this—send a shiver up your spine.

your breath hitched against the pillow as he filled you up. the room felt too quiet now, save for the sound of your breathing, the quiet thump of your heartbeat in your ears. he didn’t speak, didn’t pull away either. just stayed like that—his body pressed to yours, face buried in the back your neck, beard still scratching faintly against your skin with every breath he took. you thought maybe that was it. the quiet end to something chaotic. but then he mumbled, so softly you almost missed it.

“i don’t just miss you when you’re gone.”

you blinked, his words sinking in like a slow burn through your chest. you turned your head slightly, catching the profile of his face against your skin—soft, honest in a way you didn’t expect. he pulled out gently, arms still around you as he rolled to his side, keeping you close like he wasn’t ready to let go. you didn’t push him away. didn’t say anything right away either.

just lay there, still flushed and wrecked, your fingers brushing lightly across the curve of his shoulder.

“i know,” you whispered after a moment. “you don’t really hide it well anymore.”

matt huffed something between a scoff and a laugh, but it was tired. content. the kind of sound that only happened when his walls finally slipped. and they had—at least a little.

you curled in closer, letting your body melt into his, eyes drifting closed against the thrum of his heartbeat. you could think about the chaos later. the hacking, the watching, the lines you both blurred to get here. but for now—this moment?

you were his.

and he was yours.

I push open the door and see Nate falling asleep in Chris' bed. He looks up as I step inside.

“Hey” I whisper, leaning against the doorframe. “I’m looking for the company card. Have you seen it? He usually keeps it on the desk”

Nate furrows his brows and shakes his head. “I haven’t seen it. You’re right though they all usually leave their things on their desk, I didn't see it though.”

“Exactly” I mutter, scanning the desk for any signs of the card. Nothing.

“Maybe it’s in Matt’s room” Nate suggests with a shrug, trying to go back to the sleep I just brought him out of.

I exhale sharply, already feeling the tension creeping in. “Of course it is” I mumble, more to myself than to him. “Thanks, Nate.”

Leaving Chris’s room, I climb the stairs, my footsteps heavier now. The closer I get to Matt’s room, the more I debate what to do. It’s not like I haven’t been in there before, but I still feel like I'm intruding, it was.. complicated.

I stop in front of his door, my hand hesitating on the handle. Taking a breath, I tell myself to stop overthinking. It’s just a debit card. Get in, grab it, and get out.

I push open Matt’s door cautiously, the slight creak of the hinges sounding louder than it should in the stillness. I make my way over to his desk in the corner of the room and scan over it. No card there either. Where could Chris have put this?

My eyes wander around his room. Then I notice it. Perched on his bedside locker, standing upright and slightly tilted as if placed deliberately, is the thank you card I gave him.

It oddly makes my heart skip a beat.

He kept it? Not only that, but he put it on display? I stare at the card, feeling a mix of emotions swirl in my chest. It must mean something to him, right? I gave it to him on a whim, thinking he’d either forget about it or toss it in the trash without a second thought. But here it is, sitting there like it’s important.

Next to the card is a silver metallic bag. It catches the light, sleek and reflective, and my curiosity flares. A gift bag? Then I notice other memorabilia and cards.. Maybe that’s just where he keeps things people give him? For a moment, I picture him tossing everything he’s been handed into one spot without a second glance. The realization makes me pause, a wave of doubt creeping in. What am I still doing in here? I shouldn’t be snooping around, especially not in Matt’s room. It feels invasive, like I’ve crossed an invisible line, yet I can’t seem to stop myself.

My gaze flicks back to the thank you card, and for a brief second, I remember those rare moments when Matt wasn’t a complete asshole, when he’d let his guard down and show an ounce of kindness. Those glimpses of him were few and far between, but real. It made me curious if there was more to him, buried beneath the layers of anger and arrogance.

I clutch the envelope from the flowers in my hand tightly, feeling its edges dig into my palm. It suddenly feels heavy, like it’s holding more meaning than it should. What does it all mean? I shake my head, snapping myself out of it. This is too much. Too personal. I need to leave before I lose myself in this train of thought. I turn on my heel, heading back to the door, but my feet feel heavier with every step, like I’m leaving something unresolved behind.

I sit on the couch in the living room, I put the small envelope in my pocket and take out my phone. My thoughts spiral as I decide to scroll through the thread of messages Matt and I exchanged earlier. Did I really want to text him for answers? Our last messages to each other were.. tense, to say the least. His frosty replies and my final comment about it being the “last time” we’d texted each other still lingered in the back of my mind. 

Why am I even considering this?

Wait, I actually need to text him again.  My mind is getting so caught up in hidden meanings I’m forgetting what I actually have to do. Chris wasn’t reachable, and Matt was the closest connection I had. I sighed, composing myself as I typed out a message:

"Can you tell Chris the business card isn’t in his room?"

I hit send and waited, the seconds feeling like minutes. A response popped up almost immediately:

Matt: "Thought you weren’t going to text me again."

I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck. Of course, he couldn’t resist. I typed back, my fingers moving quickly:

"I don’t have a choice when you’re my communication with Chris."

I pull out the envelope from my pocket to read the card again, the words on it now etched in my mind. Y/n, I’m sorry for last night. I went too far, and you didn’t deserve that. The difference between his words to me at times was crazy. There’s something about the simplicity of the note, paired with the effort it must’ve taken to even organise it, that makes me pause. I wanted to bring it up to him. What had changed between the moment he decided to buy those flowers and when they ended up in the trash?

Maybe it was an accident? The thought feels washy, but I cling to it.

Before I can second guess myself, I snap a picture of the card, my hand shaking just enough to blur the first attempt. I steady myself, retake it, and attach the image to a new message. My fingers hesitate on the keyboard, then type:

"Apology accepted."

I press send before I can change my mind. The message bubbles with the photo of the card and those two simple words feel heavy in my chest as I sit back and wait for a response. My phone remains silent, the screen mocking me with its lack of activity.

It’s in that quiet moment that Nick’s voice cuts through my thoughts, yelling my name from somewhere upstairs.

I sigh, putting my phone in my pocket. Whatever Matt’s response might be, it will have to wait.

 I hear Nick shouting my name from his room, his voice brimming with excitement. “Y/n! Come here! I’ve good news!”

Curious, I quicken my pace and climb up the stairs and into his room. He’s sitting on his bed, laptop in lap, grinning like a kid with a secret he can’t wait to spill. His enthusiasm is contagious, but I still raise an eyebrow. “What’s going on?” I ask, crossing my arms with a small smile.

“I’ve got a surprise for you.”

I laugh, already skeptical. “What kind of surprise?”

“A fun one!” he teases, leaning back dramatically.

“Okay, spill it, Nick.”

“You’re coming to Hawaii with us!”

I blink at him, waiting for the punchline, but it doesn’t come. “What?” I finally manage to say, my voice in disbelief.

“You heard me” he says, beaming. “I just bought a plane ticket for you. You’re staying in the same villa with us. It’s all set.”

For a moment, I just stare at him, trying to figure out if he’s pulling some elaborate prank. “Are you serious?”

“Dead” he replies, his grin never faltering. “You deserve this.”

I laugh nervously, shaking my head. “Nick, you’re messing with me. There’s no way.”

“I’m not messing with you!” he insists, raising his hands in mock surrender. “I booked it already. Ask Chris if you don’t believe me. I brought it up to him the same day he invited Nate and he immediately agreed.”

The sincerity in his voice starts to sink in, and my disbelief slowly gives way to shock. “Wait.. you and Chris talked about this?”

“Yeah” Nick says, his tone softening. “Look, we both know you’ve been through a lot lately. Between the apartment, Ethan.. well, life in general, you deserve a break. You’ve been working so hard for Chris too, so we figured, why not?”

I take a step back, the weight of his words hitting me. “Nick, that’s.. that’s so nice of you. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know I didn’t have to” he says, shrugging like it’s no big deal. “But I wanted to. You need this, Y/n. And honestly, it wouldn’t feel right going without you.”

I feel a lump forming in my throat, a mix of gratitude and shock making it hard to speak. “I don’t even know what to say. Thank you, Nick. Seriously.”

“Don’t thank me yet!” he says with a laugh. “Wait until we’re sipping cocktails on the beach.”

I laugh with him, shaking my head in disbelief.  I take a deep breath, trying to process everything. A trip to Hawaii? It feels surreal, and the fact that they thought of me, that they wanted to include me, it’s overwhelming in the best way. I just wasn't sure everyone on the trip feels that way.

“Okay, okay. But, uh.. I’m going to need clothes. And a bigger suitcase, considering I don’t have much anymore. I’m practically down to my last jumper already.”

Nick smirks, getting up from his bed and walking to his closet. “I was hoping you’d say that. Shopping trip tomorrow? My treat.”

“Nick, you really don’t have to do that-”

He cuts me off, holding up a hand as he pulls a jumper out from his closet. “Oh, I absolutely do. You’re going to Hawaii with me, and there’s no way I’m letting you go with just whatever’s left from the wreckage of Hurricane Ethan. You need new outfits, bikinis, something cute for dinners, sandals, sunglasses. Everything. Also, take this for the minute so you have an extra jumper.” He says, passing me a yellow Ralph Lauren jumper. 

I blink at him, both surprised and slightly overwhelmed by his enthusiasm. “Nick, I can’t let you spend all that money on me.”

“You’re not ‘letting’ me do anything” he says, rolling his eyes. “I’ve already decided. Besides, think of it as a business expense.” Giving me a smirk.

I narrow my eyes at him. “A business expense?”

“Yeah! You’re part of the Fresh Love family, right? Consider it an investment. Plus I have the company card right now” He winks, clearly proud of his reasoning.

My mouth drops. “Oh my god you had it all this time!” I laugh.

“Yeah I ordered Chris a new phone too, he should be grateful.” He says raising his eyebrows. “And let’s be real, you deserve it. You’ve been working nonstop for weeks, and I don’t think you’ve treated yourself to anything in forever. So tomorrow, we’re hitting the mall. Clothes, a suitcase, anything else you need, we’re getting it.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Okay, fine. But promise me you won’t go overboard.”

“We’ll see” he says with a mischievous grin. “Tomorrow, 11am. Be ready.”

I sigh, knowing there’s no point arguing further, but deep down, I’m touched by his thoughtfulness. “Alright, deal. But only because you’re so annoyingly persistent.”

“You love it” he teases, as I walk out of his room. I sit on the edge of my bed, yellow jumper in hand, shaking my head. Nick could be over the top sometimes, but moments like this reminded me why he was one of my closest friends. I placed the jumper on my bed and smoothed it out, the vibrant yellow popped against the neutral tones of my duvet. It wasn’t my usual style, but it felt cozy, and I couldn’t deny I needed it.

As I set it down, the faint scent wafted up again, warm and slightly spicy. It made me pause. For some reason, it gave me the strangest sense of deja vu, but I dismissed it just as quickly.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, breaking my train of thought. Hopeful, I took it out, but it wasn’t a notification from Matt. I opened our thread anyway, checking to see if he’d responded and I’d missed it.

Read.

The message I sent, sat there unanswered. It was petty of me to even care, but I couldn’t help it. He’d gone to the effort of sending flowers and attaching a note, yet he couldn’t bother to say anything back?

I tossed my phone onto the bed with a sigh, the screen still glaring at me with his name.

Whatever. I don't know why I bothered with Matt at all. I wasn’t going to let his silence ruin my mood after the news Nick gave me.

I picked up the jumper again, pressing it against my chest. It was soft, comforting even. I folded it carefully and placed it in the top drawer of my dresser, smiling faintly at the thought of having something new to wear tomorrow, well, new to me, anyway.

Matt's POV

After Chris ended the call with Y/n, I felt like absolute trash. The hangover was kicking my ass, my head pounding every time I moved. Christina and Rachel had left a couple of hours ago, thankfully leaving Chris and I to just sit and recover in peace.

We were sprawled out in the living room, the TV playing some random movie in the background. Chris was trying to nap, meanwhile, I was doing my best to ignore the lingering pit in my stomach from last night’s events.

My phone buzzed on the armrest next to me. I lazily picked it up and saw a text from Y/n.

Y/n: "Can you tell Chris the business card isn’t in his room."

I sighed and looked over at Chris, who was dozing on the couch. “Hey, Y/n says the business card isn’t in your room.”

Chris perked up slightly, scratching his head. “Shit.. maybe it is in my wallet” he mumbled, checking his back pocket.

I turned back to my phone, typing a short reply.

"Thought you weren’t going to text me again."

The message delivered, and I leaned back into the couch, not expecting much more. My phone dinged almost instantly, though, and I glanced down.

Y/n: "I don’t have a choice when you’re my communication with Chris."

She had got me with that one. But then another message popped up, and this one made me sit up straight.

"Also, I found these."

It was followed by a picture of the card I’d attached to the flowers I sent, sitting in her hand.

"Apology accepted."

My face burned instantly. Embarrassment clawed its way up my chest and settled in my cheeks. Fuck. I can’t believe she found them. I hadn’t even planned to explain myself, it was impulsive, throwing them out, but it also was something I thought she’d ignore or pass off without a second glance. And yet here she was, calling me out on it.

Chris looked over, raising an eyebrow at my sudden movement. “What’s up with you?”

“Nothing” I muttered, trying to compose myself.

I stared at her text for a moment, my mind racing. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, typing out a response.

"Thought Nate could get you some instead."

I hesitated, my thumb hovering over the send button. Debating on whether ot not to press send.

a/n: sorry this took so long to put out, i was super busy and now im sick soooo hopefully i get over it quickly and part 10 is out soon, this is also kinda short n kinda shit so apologiesssss

Selling weed to drunk teenagers and young adults at parties wasn't my first option, but high school ended a few years ago, I live alone since my parents kicked me out of their house and college is expensive as fuck. I tried to get a normal job, but my classes were taking a lot of time and it wasn't working out. Maybe it could, but I felt like I was going to explode any second, and mental health is also expensive so I couldn't afford a therapist if I needed one.

I used to love parties, drinking and dancing with my friends, just running away from all the responsibilities. Now I hate them. I have to talk to people I don't like, people I don't know, weird guys that give me what I need to sell and then I get back barely enough to pay my bills. They're not exactly dangerous, but I don't have the energy to fight back and ask for more.

My luck was to become friends with a girl in college who knew influencers and got us in a few parties. Honestly it wasn't a surprise that almost all of them used something, I mean, they have to find a way of going through life and sometimes getting high is a great escape from reality. I do it myself and I don't even get hundreds of comments about everything I do online.

Since they were all rich or close to being rich I always charged more than normal. They could pay and I needed that money, so it's only fair. Funny thing though it's not all influencers are assholes and I ended up getting involuntarily closer to one of them.

Matthew Sturniolo. Didn't seem like the kind to use stuff, and didn't look like he had done it before when I handed him a joint. I had to teach him how to smoke, something I've never done before to anyone, and when I realized his shaky hands and bouncy legs I immediately caught the reason he even asked for it.

We talked a lot the day we met, even told him my number in case he wanted more weed, but deep down I was curious and hoped he would text me so I could see him again.

When days later he called me wanting more I was surprised. First because he called, not texted like everyone does, second because for some reason I could feel through the tone in his voice that he felt the same he did at that party. He was beyond anxious and I felt bad, he seemed decently nice to be in the environment he was in that day, but I guess he needed to be present.

I found out he's a triplet, and his brothers had no idea that he wasn't sober anymore like the other two. I wonder if they're also as nice and calm as he is, at least he talks about them with love so I think they're all really close.

I have no idea why, in fact, it's a really bad thing for him to trust me enough to get in my car and smoke with me without even knowing me, but I was glad he did. It was the first time I was hanging out with a customer, and I wasn't mad at all. I did the talking for a few minutes, watching as he visibly calmed down, and eventually started talking back.

When he left I made sure to warn him about the smell so he could take a shower before his brothers noticed, and when I drove back to my place I couldn't stop wondering if he'd call me again.

But this time he texted. And he was alone, so he asked if I wanted to smoke with him inside his house. It was a bad idea, clearly a huge red sign, and I still said yes. We know a little bit about each other by now, and he had the opportunity to do anything when he got into my car, yet he seemed more like a scaredy cat than anything else, for him I probably looked like the dangerous one.

Matt is cute, all shy, but kind. More of an introvert, he gets anxious a lot, but have things to help him, and people, weed shouldn't be on the list. It was the third time we saw each other, the third time smoking together, third joint I had sold him, and I was already starting to regret selling him.

-Why did you want to smoke? -I ask, holding my joint in between my fingers and looking at him.

His smile falters as he processes the question, taking a deep breath before deciding to open up.

-I think my anxiety was getting worse and I couldn't find anything to help me anymore. I didn't want to bother my brothers, they have their own things going on as well.

I nod, feeling more empathy for him than I probably should. Talking to him felt like talking to a normal boy, not like talking to those internet famous people who somehow became "famous". He was genuine, he was showing true feelings and being relatable, I just couldn't help feeling like he was my friend and I had to help him, or try to.

-What did you do when you felt like this?

I take another hit, carefully placing my joint down and kicking off my shoes to get more comfortable on the couch. He follows my movements with his eyes.

-Journalling, going on walks, nature, fortnite. –He chuckles, looking to the other side. -I like seeing animals, watching movies, I don't know, anything that could distract me.

I smile, nodding and taking a sip of water from the third bottle we've opened since we started smoking.

-That's cool. Why don't they seem to work anymore?

He shrugs, taking the last hit before throwing the finished joint into a bowl. The smoke left his lips smoothly, now being more used to the feeling and not coughing, eyes turning slightly red as the effects hit him.

-I don't know. They don't feel the same, it's like I'm losing interest, y'know? -He asks, with his accent showing up.

I nod once again, knowing exactly what he meant. That's one of the reasons why I started smoking, years ago, and knowing how I just simply cannot live without it I feel responsible for making Matt realize this is not a good option and there are other ways of making the anxiety disappear. I don't want him to be like me.

☘︎☘︎☘︎

Matt has texted me at least once a week for the past three weeks and it was starting to worry me how badly he needed more. Smoking more than one joint, smoking alone, I warned him I wouldn't sell him that much, but he was getting used to the idea of not thinking about his problems while high and our texts were no longer just about him wanting to buy stuff.

We talked every day. I tried to keep it as superficial as possible, but it was no use since we ended up opening up to each other. I told him my reason for selling, almost all that happened in my life, and I knew so much about him too. My concerns only increased as the days went by and now, with him in my apartment for the second time this week, I knew I had to do something about it.

-Long time no see. -I joke, seeing him at my front door.

His face said what he didn't need to, he was almost panicking, sweating, pink cheeks, glossy eyes, shaky hands. He didn't seem healthy at all, and it was hurting me to know that part of it was my fault. I gave him access to drugs, I showed him how to smoke.

-I need one. -He sighs, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

We sat down on my couch, him watching me intently as I started rolling a couple of joints.

-That bad, huh? –I ask, my voice sounding a bit lower than normal. -You know I can't keep selling you this shit, right?

I look at him, my eyes sending him a warning. We talked about it before, I had to bring up how much he was contacting me for drugs and how much I disliked it.

-I know, I'll stop, I just feel really bad right now. -He tells me, but I had no trust that he'd actually stop.

-I hope so, I care about you, Matt. You're not just my customer, you know that.

My voice was soft, full of sincerity, and he knew that, his eyes also softening when he realized he was being too much.

-I just need to find other ways to deal with it. -He looks down, almost embarrassed, fidgeting his fingers.

There's a silence for a minute, all we ever talked about, how much I worry about him, how I feel responsible for him, how I'm so grateful we met and how much I hate to see him like this, all going through my mind. I couldn't bear to watch him suffer and fill him with drugs to make it go away, because I knew that it wouldn't, it just makes things worse.

I'm not an addict, at least not to the point it makes my life harder, I just use weed whenever I'm stressed, which is a lot. Although, I have the strength to do what I need to and that's good for me, it means I'm still healthy enough to go through my stuff. But Matt isn't. He doesn't seem or act healthy, and although is not just because of the weed, I think it makes him feel like he can only do stuff when he's high. And that is dangerous.

I try to think about other ways of making him feel better. My tongue sealed the first beck, putting it aside as I worked on the second one. There weren't many options, all the things he used to like seem boring to him now, and there's not much we could do. He needs something that makes both body and mind work at the same time, something that makes him tired, makes him feel.

I was reluctant to ask him what came into my mind, but as I saw him become impatient and my fingers close the second beck, I knew I had to do something, and I had to do it now.

-Matt, would you fuck me? -I ask, sealing the second beck and putting it aside.

I could've worded it better, but I felt desperate to avoid him smoking again. His eyes widen, jaw falling in surprise. I was also surprised with myself, but if I'm being honest it wasn't the first time I asked this, the only difference is that I usually ask it to myself, in my brain, not out loud, not to him.

-What?!

-You heard me.

Saying it once was enough, I had no courage to ask him twice, but at least it was kinda working, he stopped fidgeting his fingers and didn't even look at the joints that I discreetly set on the coffee table.

He seemed to think about it, processing my words, eyebrows raising as his eyes looked everywhere but at me. He licks his lips, placing each hand on each side of his body.

-I mean, yeah, I guess, but why?

His answer was not what I expected, but I didn't know what to expect. It made my heart beat faster and now I felt like the shy anxious one. I never did this before, nothing that I did with Matt I did before in my life with anyone else. Being friends with a customer is not usually the best idea, most of the time it's not even possible, but more than that?

He knows me. He truly does, and I know him, as much as he lets me. This is not just a common selling-buying relationship, it's way past that.

-Well, sex is a decent way to help with your anxiety, better than drugs.

I explain, my voice slightly shaky, eyes meeting his awkwardly, hoping I was making any sense.

When he studies me with his eyes I feel nervous, he could pay for the weed and go away, never talk to me again, say all the worst things he could think of.

Instead, he only nods, face turning serious.

-Do you want to do it or do you just want me to quit the weed so bad you're considering it?

His words caught me by surprise, but by now I shouldn't be surprised with anything anymore. Although it was kind of a harsh statement, I knew where he was coming from and the tone in his voice showed me he was as hesitant as I was.

-I do want you to quit, but I wouldn't do it just because of it. -My answer was clear, and almost a relief, for both of us.

There was another silence, not long, but that carried all the emotions and uncertainties both of us had at the moment.

-I get anxious a lot. -Matt says, half joking, half teasing.

Feels like we got ourselves an agreement, and I just know things are changing drastically between us now.

-I'm aware of that. -I joke back.

We smile at each other, taking in the final moment of acceptance before Matt's lips are on mine. I quickly kiss him back, our lips moving slowly at first, savoring each other's taste. There was a pause to breathe that didn't last long until we were kissing again.

With those two kisses I was more than happy with myself for thinking of such a good way of helping him, if I wasn't sure why I felt the urge to do something about it now it was crystal clear. I like him. Talking to him, being his dealer, being his friend, getting to know him, caring about him, it might or might not be in a romantic way, but I like him, a lot.

Feeling his lips on mine, our tongues brushing together, him carefully laying me down on the couch and hovering me, with one hand finally holding my waist. I definitely like him, and I like this, I like his touch as much as I like his voice, I like kissing him as much as I like hanging out with him, I like all of him.

Our shirts were on the floor, my bra hanging over the coffee table, his hands exploring my skin as I shivered, eyes connected as he slipped my pants down. His fingers were cold, pressing on my soaked panties, eyes admiring it like a work of art, speechless.

All anxiety in his body left when my last piece of clothes was discarded and his mouth did wonders on me, moans probably pissing off the neighbors as I tried to pull him closer by his hair.

-Fuck, Matt, I'm gonna cum... -I warn him with a whiny voice, back arching and head falling back.

-Please do, wanna taste you so bad. -He barely takes his mouth out of me to say, hands gently caressing my thighs.

My first orgasm with him was surprisingly good, not that I expected it to be bad, but definitely didn't expect it to feel so... perfect. He smiled at me like he was proud, kissing all over my body until his lips found mine again, making me taste myself.

His clothes were soon discarded as well and just by the sight of him I knew I had one more reason to like him. He seemed the calmest I've ever seen him, considering what was happening, a smirk of confidence on his lips proving he knew exactly what he was doing to me. His hand wraps around his length, teasing my folds with his tip and holding himself up with his other arm.

-Wanted to do this for so long, if I knew I had a chance I wouldn't even ask for so much weed just to see you. -He smirks down at me, circling my sensitive clit with his tip.

The feelings were so intense I almost missed what he said, but when my brain processed his words I was shocked. My jaw fell in surprise, eyes widening and my arm lifting so I could slap his arm with my hand, giving him a look of disbelief.

-You're unbelievable, you didn't have to buy anything, or use anything! We could've just hung out. -I say, trying not to smile at the fact he confessed he wanted to see me.

But in awful terms and I felt even more responsible for his acts.

I didn't have time to be mad at him, though, because he decided it was the perfect time to push all of him at once. My gasp was so loud that the entire building probably heard it, my walls fell on fire for a few seconds and he remained in the same position until my expression softened and he started to move.

His confession fully disappeared from my mind when I felt just how good he could feel. It gave me butterflies to feel him moving at a slow pace, keeping eye contact like he wanted to make sure everything was okay. His eyes looked so pretty, dark and full of desire, but also affection.

Matt kisses me again as he fasteners his thrusts, making me moan against his lips. One of his hands grabs one of my thighs, holding it up against my chest, hitting deeper.

-So fucking good. -He whispers, a long breath leaving his lips as his eyes roll back and his head falls.

My nails leave bruises on his back as I feel my second orgasm building up, sounds getting louder and my body squirming non-stop under him. Didn't take long for me to reach it, him following and pulling off just fast enough to paint my stomach with his seed.

After deep breaths and a long hug to calm down, Matt stands up and walks to my bathroom, already knowing how to navigate through my apartment, and comes back with a towel to clean us. When we were done he left me putting on my clothes again to get me some water.

Both decently dressed, a pause to the bathroom and lots of water later, Matt and I sit back on the couch, looking at each other, my head resting on the backrest and his hand moving my hair behind my ear.

-I didn't smoke all the joints I bought. I gave some to my friends who smoke. I only smoked once without you and I hated it. I was too nervous to ask you to just hang out, I wasn't sure if you'd want to, so I kept coming back to buy more because I knew I could spend time with you that way.

His voice was soft and sweet, only sharing his truth with me without being scared of it. Although it was adorable that he wanted to see me so much he found a way he thought it was the best, I hated how unsure he was if I'd want to spend time with him back. I also hated that weed was involved in this.

I smile at him, taking his free hand in mine and interlacing our fingers, rubbing my thumb against his skin.

-Matt, I really like seeing you and hanging out with you, there's no need to feel nervous, weed or no weed I still want you around. Honestly, preferably with no weed, you don't need it, never did.

His eyes showed so much gratitude, almost shining with relief. He smiles back, nodding his head and looking down at our fingers, his other hand still playing with my hair.

-Yeah, it didn't help me that much, but at least it brought you into my life, so I'm grateful for it.

My heart swells with affection, butterflies flying free in my stomach. I reach out to press a soft kiss on his lips, wanting to show him just how much I enjoyed knowing how he feels.

-I'm so happy to have you in my life, Matt. -I whisper, pulling away just enough to say it.

We smile at each other, both of his hands now on my cheeks, cupping them gently.

-Does this mean you'd say yes to a date?

I giggle, nodding and wrapping my arms around him.

-Yes, I'd love to.

My little makeshift room was.. cosy, to put it nicely. A double bed took up most of the space, leaving just enough room for a small mirror, a desk, and a clothes drawer tucked neatly against one wall. With the tight layout, I had a single straight path to walk from my bed to the stairs. Functional, sure, but not exactly homey.

Nick was already in his room, snoring loudly enough that I could hear it from here. Chris, on the other hand, had retreated to his own room, probably wiped out again after hauling the mattress. I envied how easily they seemed to relax. My muscles ached from acting like Bob the Builder all evening, and my brain wasn’t far behind.

I flopped back onto the bed with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. It was strange being here, surrounded by their world but not fully a part of it. Still, the alternative, being out on the street or scrambling to find a new place, was far worse.

I sat scrolling aimlessly on TikTok, letting myself unwind after the chaotic day of moving in. The glow of my phone screen lit up my little area, the sound of videos a comforting distraction. I figured I’d give myself a few more minutes to relax before heading downstairs to do my skincare routine and brush my teeth.

I kept scrolling until a rustling sound from one of the lower floors made me jump. My heart raced for a moment, my body on high alert. I wasn’t used to the random noises in this house yet, the creeks of old wood, the zing of appliances, or the occasional thud of someone moving around.

Then, I heard Matt's voice, accompanied by the distinct click of heels on the floor. My stomach dropped.

He brought the girl home.

I glanced at my phone. 00:40. God, that meant she was staying the night.

As they made their way up to the living area floor, their voices carried loud and clear through the paper thin walls. I cringed.

Their conversation was casual, punctuated by fake giggles from her. “Your room’s so nice, it’s like a cabin.” she gushed, her voice sugary sweet.

“It’s alright” Matt replied, his tone dripping with smugness.

Ew.

I muted my phone and sat still, debating whether I should head downstairs now or wait until the coast was clear. The thought of running into them made my skin crawl. They were clearly standing at the doorway to Matt’s room. So much for brushing my teeth anytime soon.

I lay there, my phone clutched in my hand, frozen between irritation and discomfort. Their voices were loud enough to hear every word. It felt like I was listening in on something I shouldn’t, but I didn’t exactly have a choice.

Then came the sound of heels again, clicking closer this time. My heart sank as their voices drifted toward the living area, closer to me. Great.

A soft laugh escaped the girl, followed by a low murmur from Matt. Then, silence.

But it wasn’t silent for long.

They’re kissing. On the couch.

The unmistakable sound of kissing reached my ears, loud and clear. My eyes widened in disbelief. I sat up, my head spinning with secondhand embarrassment and irritation. Did he not realize I could hear this? Or worse, did he just not care?

I clenched my jaw, trying to drown out the sounds with a pillow over my head. It didn’t help. Every smack of their lips was like nails on a chalkboard.

I groaned softly to myself, debating whether to storm downstairs and remind him I lived here now, or just endure it until they either moved to his room. Either way, this wasn’t exactly shaping up to be the peaceful, comfy evening I had hoped for.

I grabbed my airpods from the drawer and popped them into my ears, desperate for some form of escape. Nothing. They were dead.

Great. Just perfect.

The obnoxious sound of their smooching was still banging in my ears like an unwanted soundtrack to my night. Even Nick had stopped snoring now, so I had nothing else to drown it out. I glanced around my room, trying to figure out what to do. There was no way I was going to lie here and endure this.

My eyes landed on my skincare bag and toothbrush. If nothing else, I could make a point of walking downstairs and acting like I had no idea they were there. Maybe the sudden interruption would make them move it along, or, at the very least, stop.

I stood up and grabbed my things, taking a deep breath. My airpods may be dead, but I could at least pretend they weren’t. As long as I looked convincingly oblivious, I could save myself the embarrassment of outright acknowledging the situation.

Before walking down the stairs, I mentally rehearsed my best surprised face. My heart was thumping louder than I cared to admit as the sound of them kissing, and other noises, grew louder.

I rounded the corner into the living area and stopped.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, forging surprise as I pulled out one of my airpods. “Didn’t realize anyone was here.” Being honest, I didn’t even have to pretend to be shocked, since the sight of this girl straddling Matt on the couch was enough to horrify me.

Matt froze, his hands still draped on the girl's ass. The girl on top of him looked equally startled, her lipstick slightly smudged.

“Uh, hey..” Matt said, his tone clipped. “Didn’t think you’d be up.”

“Just doing my skincare” I said innocently, holding up my bag and toothbrush. “Don’t mind me.”

Without waiting for a response, I walked toward the bathroom, not making eye contact, ignoring the tension radiating from the couch. My heart was still pounding, but at least the obnoxious kissing had stopped, for now.

I quickly got to work on my routine, splashing water on my face and scrubbing at my skin like it could wash away the awkwardness of the situation. My movements were brisk, my toothbrush scrubbing furiously as if speed could get me out of here faster.

As I brushed my teeth, I heard the distinct shuffle of footsteps outside the bathroom. My stomach tightened, anticipating another run in, but the sound moved away, followed by the soft click of Matt’s bedroom door.

Finally.

Relief washed over me. At least now they were behind a closed door. I no longer felt like an unwilling participant in whatever was going on. I finished my routine in record time, putting my things back into my bag and sneaking out of the bathroom as quietly as I could.

By the time I made it back to my room, I could feel the tension leaving my shoulders. I placed my skincare bag back on the desk and sank onto my bed, letting out a long exhale.

I grabbed my phone, intending to scroll until the remaining awkwardness faded. But as I stared at the ceiling, the muffled sound of laughter drifted faintly through the walls. It wasn’t nearly as intrusive as before, but it was enough to remind me of the thin walls around me, and how much I’d need to get used to.

I clenched my jaw, pulling the blanket tighter around me as if that could somehow block out the sounds filtering through. The muffled laughter had shifted into something unmistakably intimate, and my stomach churned at the realization.

I squeezed my eyes shut, willing myself to focus on anything else, the ticking of the clock, the buzz of the fridge downstairs.  But it was no use.

Every sound was crystal clear.

I could hear them, the creak of the mattress, soft whispers I couldn't quite make out, the moaning. God this was worse than the kissing. So much worse.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I muttered under my breath, sitting upright. My pulse was racing, not out of embarrassment anymore but sheer irritation. This wasn’t just awkward, it was infuriating. Was this intentional? To make me hate living here?

It was like they were testing the limits of how much this house, and I, could take.

A frustrated sigh escaped my lips. This was my first night here, and already, I was questioning if I’d made the right decision. It’s temporary, I reminded myself. Just temporary.

But as the noises continued, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of resentment. For Matt’s complete disregard, for the lack of privacy in this house, for the way my life had taken such a turn that I now had to endure this.

I was in and out of sleep all night long. I woke up feeling like a zombie, my body heavy and my eyes barely staying open. I checked my phone, barely three hours of sleep. One hour for each round Matt and his guest had last night. The memory of it made my skin crawl.

Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffled to the mirror and grimaced at my reflection. Dark circles hung under my eyes like a badge of exhaustion, and my hair was a mess from tossing and turning all night.

The house was eerily quiet now, almost as if mocking me. Of course, Matt was probably passed out after his marathon night. Lucky him.

I grabbed my phone and typed out a message to Nick:

"Do you guys keep earplugs in this house, or is suffering a rite of passage?"

I hesitated for a moment before deleting it. No need to drag Nick into this. It wasn’t his fault.

Instead, I sighed and decided to make the best of the morning. I could unpack more, maybe take a walk, or even look into noise canceling headphones because there was no way I could survive another night like that.

But as I turned to leave my room, that tinge of resentment hit me again. This was Matt’s fault. He could have been a little considerate, knowing I was just down the hall, or whatever you’d call my little corner.

I walked down the stairs into the kitchen, the house feeling too big and too empty in its silence. Coffee. I needed coffee before I even thought about dealing with anyone today.

I sat at the kitchen table, my head resting in my hands as the Keurig gurgled behind me, the sound of coffee trickling into the cup almost soothing. Almost.

Chris waltzed upstairs, his energy a stark contrast to my sluggish state. He was as fresh as a daisy, a casual smile on his face as he leaned against the counter. “Morning!” he said, grabbing a soda from the fridge. “How’d you sleep?”

I looked at him, deadpan, and decided on sarcasm. “Wonderful. Like a baby.” I muttered, my tone laced with just enough edge to hint at my actual feelings.

Chris raised an eyebrow, catching on. “That bad, huh?”

I shrugged, not wanting to dive into the details of Matt’s activities last night. Instead, I turned around and grabbed my coffee, taking a sip hoping the caffeine would kick in soon.

Chris leaned on the counter, his tone shifting to something more focused. “So, about the new drop for Fresh Love. Think you can come up with some sample ideas for patches by tomorrow? I’ll work on the colorways. I’d like to get it sent off before I go to Vegas.”

Vegas.

The word snapped me out of my haze. Right. Chris and Matt were going away for three nights, then coming back to LA for just one before jetting off to Hawaii for two weeks with Nick.

I blinked, the weight of everything hitting me at once. Between moving, the sleepless night, and now this, I’d completely forgotten how much pressure I was under with work. My mind raced through ideas, trying to piece together something coherent.

“Yeah” I said, nodding despite the slight panic rising in my chest. “I’ll figure it out. Patches by tomorrow, right?”

Chris smiled, his confidence in me evident. “Knew you’d have it covered. And hey, don’t stress. We’ve got this.”

Easy for him to say, I thought as he grabbed his soda and strolled back downstairs, leaving me alone with my spiraling thoughts and a mountain of work.

I grabbed my sketch pad from my room and set up at the kitchen table, my hand slightly trembling as I flipped it open, the faint lines of the new designs already starting to take shape.

It was quiet in the house, Nick and Chris had just headed out for some meeting, and Matt had yet to leave his room. The weight of the silence felt heavier with each passing minute.

Two hours passed, and my head began to throb, a dull ache spreading behind my eyes. It was a mix of exhaustion from the lack of sleep and the mounting pressure of the work I still had to finish. I looked down at the sketches in front of me. It was progress, at least. So, I decided to pack it in for the moment. A nap was probably what I needed most.

As I stood up from the table and gathered my things, I heard the soft sound of footsteps from the hallway. I looked over my shoulder, and there he was, Matt, strolling into the kitchen like he hadn’t just spent the entire night with some girl, oblivious to the fact that I was the one who had been kept up by the sounds of it all.

I couldn’t stop myself from speaking up. “Well, doesn’t someone look fresh after their wild night last night” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Is your guest still here?”

Matt raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed by my tone. “Jealous?” he shot back, his usual smugness back in full force. “And no, she’s not. She left early this morning.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Well, I hope she’s off somewhere having a lovely nap” I said, crossing my arms. “Because I know me and her got the same amount of sleep last night.”

There was a brief moment of silence between us. He didn’t flinch, but I could see a flicker of guilt flash across his face for just a second before it was gone.

“Look” Matt finally said, his voice more casual than usual. “I didn’t know you were going to be up all night. If I’d known, I would’ve been more-”

“Considerate?” I finished for him, unable to hold back the bite in my voice. 

Matt ran a hand through his hair, clearly irritated now. “Fine. You’re right. I get it. But you know I can’t exactly control when someone stays over, right?”

I didn’t reply immediately. He was right in some sense, but the fact that he hadn’t even considered the noise, the situation, or what I might be dealing with.. it pissed me off.

“Whatever” I muttered, turning to head back upstairs. “I’m going to try and get some sleep. I don’t know about you, but some of us actually need it.”

I didn’t wait for his response as I stormed off, my blood still boiling from the interaction. It wasn’t just about last night, it was about the constant tension, the lack of boundaries. It was becoming too much.

As I made it up to my room, the ache escalated into a full blown migraine. By the time I flopped onto my bed, it felt like a jackhammer was drilling into my skull. The sunlight streaming in from the open doorway to the stairs hit my eyes like daggers, and the heat of my poorly ventilated room wrapped around me, suffocating and relentless.

I tried to block it all out, pulling the blanket over my head, but every random creek and distant sound in the house grated on my already frazzled nerves. The sensitivity was overwhelming, each small discomfort magnified to unbearable proportions. My chest tightened as I fought back tears.

It was too much, too much noise, too much heat, too much light, too much stress. I curled up tighter, clutching my blanket and wishing for the sweet relief of darkness and silence.

I could feel my body resisting every movement, but I knew I had to do something to make it stop. I couldn’t lie in this room anymore like this, suffocating in the heat, with the light stabbing at my skull. Maybe if I opened the windows in the living area and pulled down the blinds, it would let in some fresh air and block out the brightness. The windows here were huge, maybe that would help.

With a pained groan, I pushed myself off the bed and stumbled towards the stairs. My head felt like it was going to split open with every step, the harsh light of the house almost unbearable as it hit me like a brick wall. I gagged, my stomach turning from the intensity. But I pushed through, gritting my teeth and forcing my body to move.

When I reached the living room, I collapsed onto the couch, already winded and shaky. I stretched out, trying to reach the top window to open it, my fingers brushing the edge but not quite able to grip the latch.

Just as I was about to pull myself up further, I heard Matt’s voice behind me. "What are you doing?"

I paused, swallowing down the bile rising in my throat. "I have a migraine" I said, my voice rough and strained. "My room’s too bright.. too hot.. trying to make it cooler.. darker. Trying not to get sick." I kept my back to him, hoping he'd let me do what I needed without pestering.

But I knew Matt, he’d always have something to say. I was just waiting for it.

“If you want to sleep in my room, I mean.. it’s got blackout curtains, and it's way cooler than in your room..” he suggested, his voice more neutral than before.

I didn’t even look back at him, still focused on trying to pry open the window. "After what went on in your bed last night" I said, sarcasm seeping into my voice, "it’s the last place I want to be."

There was a brief pause, and I heard him sigh behind me. Then, I heard his footsteps approach the kitchen.

“I get it” he muttered, though I didn’t quite believe him. He probably didn’t care what happened, but he was probably just saying something to avoid further confrontation. “You want me to grab a basin or something? In case you get sick?”

I glanced over at him, my expression barely more than a grimace. "Yeah, that'd be great" I said, my voice barely above a whisper, absolutely sweating. “Please.”

I could hear him rummaging around for a moment before he returned with a shallow plastic basin. I didn’t want to admit how grateful I was for the small gesture. My stomach churned just thinking about what had happened the night before, but I didn’t need to explain myself anymore.

“Here” he said, handing it to me, his tone a little softer than before. 

I nodded weakly, too exhausted to argue, and just wanted to crawl back into my space and hopefully get some sleep.

“Thanks” I muttered, but it didn’t feel like enough. It was just a small act of kindness, but with everything going on, it felt like a relief.

As he walked away, I took the basin and held it under my arm, crawling up the stairs to my room. I placed the basin near the edge of my bed, just in case. I climbed back under the covers, pulling a pillow to my face, and tried to block out the world. It wasn’t going to make my migraine vanish, but I hoped it would give me some relief. 

I was wrong.

Suddenly I hear a knock on my fake wall, I let out a slow breath, the migraine still pounding behind my eyes as Matt’s voice cuts through the silence.

“I’ve changed my sheets..” he says, poking his head through the entrance to my room. He looks less irritated than he did earlier, though I can’t tell if it's genuine or just a matter of convenience. “The offer’s still there, or you gonna keep being stubborn? I mean, you’re not gonna get any rest like this.”

I shift uncomfortably, weighing the option in my head. My room was stifling, bright, and getting worse by the minute, and Matt’s room was.. well, it was still Matt’s room, but at least it would be dark, cool, and quiet.

The migraine was winning, and at that moment, I just needed relief. I was tired of feeling like a burden, tired of pretending I didn’t need help.

"Fine" I say, finally giving in. "I’ll take you up on the offer."

“Good choice” he mutters, not sounding as smug as he usually would. “You can’t keep living in a sauna.”

I don’t respond, too drained to argue. He steps back toward the door, preparing to walk back down the stairs.

“I’m going to head out for a bit, so make your way down when you want” he says, clearly wanting to wrap this up, as he turns to walk away.

I shuffled toward the entrance to my room, the floor creaking beneath my feet. I walked downstairs and toward his room, the familiar discomfort of being in his space only adding to my already scattered nerves.

When I opened the door, I was immediately hit by the cool air that seemed to welcome me. The room was dark, the blinds drawn tight, and the bed looked inviting, a stark contrast to the mess of my own space. The girl was right, it was nice and it did look like a cabin.

It was much quieter in here, no random noises or heat beating down on me. I could feel my headache ease just slightly, as though the room itself was offering me some relief.

I set my things down on the edge of the bed, feeling the exhaustion hit me again. It wasn’t ideal, but it was definitely better than the alternative.

As I settled into Matt's bed, the sheets cool against my skin, I couldn't help but feel how odd it was to be here. The space was familiar, yet so unfamiliar at the same time. The scent of him lingered in the air, mixed with the faint traces of cologne. It felt almost wrong, like I was stepping into a part of his world that wasn’t meant for me.

The bed was comfortable, but the proximity to Matt's life, his space, his things, was unsettling. I found myself shifting uncomfortably, trying to find a position that didn’t remind me that I was lying in the very place he'd probably shared countless nights with someone else.

It wasn’t just the room that felt off. The silence between us, the awkwardness of me being here in the first place, how he was making it awkward. I closed my eyes tightly, hoping to force the discomfort away, but it lingered, gnawing at the back of my mind while the migraine hit at the front.

It wasn’t my bed. It wasn’t my room. It wasn’t supposed to be me here.

But for now, it was where I had to be. And as strange as it felt, there was nothing left to do but sleep and hope that when I woke up, things would somehow feel a little less.. weird.

a/n: matt being.. nice?