This week has been stressful - and that was putting it mildly. The pressure from your job has been hard enough to deal with, but on top of it all, you didn’t get to see Matt at all as he has been busy working on a case, getting home late every day. Well, later than usual , at least.
And without you.
It was frustrating, really. All week, any attempt at a date night has ended in a disaster. If Matt made time, your boss demanded overtime. When they promised to let you home early the next day, Matt got caught up in the thick of it all, having to prepare for his opening statements.
You weren’t sure how it started. It was minute, at first.
A passing, nagging little thought at the back of your head, nothing more. But you’ve been feeling off for the past few days. You tried brushing it off as being tired. Blamed it on the gloomy weather. But as the days flowed past and the skies gradually cleared, your mood only got worse.
Compact and easy to carry, you let it feed off of your anger and disappointment all week until it grew into an indescribable weight, pulling you down even now as you made your way up the stairs to Matt’s apartment.
A quiet night in , he promised, as this horrible week was finally drawing to its end, graciously allowing the two of you to finally see each other again.
You missed Matt more than anything. More than ever before. Wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms, hugging him for the rest of eternity, never to let him go. But you knew you had to rein in your feelings, for his sake.
You didn’t tell him about all the anxiety bubbling up in you throughout the week. What was there to tell? Besides, he has been stretching himself thin too, if the exhaustion in his voice over the phone was any indication.
With a huff, you tried to dismiss all the negativity, to leave it outside like a baggage you could simply let go of on command. How you wished it was that easy.
As Matt opened the door for you, a smile slipped into place effortlessly enough. Because damn , even when tired, stubble just a little more scruffy and the lack of sleep written clearly all over his face, he was still beautiful, and yours.
Right?
You were getting clingy , you could tell. It was a horrible, sticky-tar feeling simmering at the bottom of your stomach, distracting your thoughts. Currently, the two of you were snuggled up on the couch, surrounded by some empty take out boxes, a few bottles of beer, listening to a podcast you started together and needed catching up on.
You wanted to be close to him. To touch him, to breathe his scent in, lost in his warm embrace. But you were so scared of how he would react if you stayed like this that it made you want to claw your way out of his hold and run to the ends of the Earth.
It was hard to miss how tired he himself was, quiet even now as you scooted back just a little, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
The way he tilted his head, you knew he was listening intently - and not just to the podcast - but he said nothing.
Oh god .
What if he hated you? What if he could see into your thoughts battling for attention inside you, one minute content, happy, lost in the moment with him, only to be overcome with a cold dread that told you he was tired of you, only putting up with your close proximity out of politeness.
Fidgeting carefully around - because honestly, you had no idea what was going on in the podcast for a few minutes now - you offered to get up and bring some more beer. It was a good excuse to put a little distance between the two of you, but your body betrayed you, shivering slightly without him close, yearning for the warmth of him.
When you got back with the drinks, you plopped down on the couch, pretending to be as absentminded and natural as possible, staying right where you were, not snuggling back up to him again and praying he wouldn’t think too much of it.
Matt noticed, of course. The moment you stepped into his apartment, your anxiety practically screamed into his face, your heartbeat loud and irregular. He tried to figure out what was wrong, giving you time to drop the forced smile, waiting.
But as the night progressed, and you didn’t speak up, he got only more confused. He wanted to hold you, but you seemed to pull away from his touch, so he gave you space, even if it hurt a little. Maybe more than a little.
He was wondering if you were angry with him for not meeting all week. Truth was, the both of you had been equally busy, and he made sure to call you as often as he could. When it was clear you were not paying attention anymore, he offered to call it a night, and your sigh of relief was hard to miss.
Still, you seemed happy to offer to clean up while he took a shower. Another one of your sweet little excuses. But keeping your hands busy seemed to distract you a little, caught up in washing the few dishes you used without noticing when he later padded over to you in the kitchen, a quick kiss to your cheeks as he let you know he left a clean towel out for you.
Unfortunately, the shower didn’t have the desired effect you’ve been hoping for. The water was scalding hot against your skin, but now that you didn’t have anything to distract you, your thoughts started to slowly spiral again. You just wanted to get through tonight. It felt like climbing over a high wall, towering above you, and you couldn’t wait to just fall over on the other side of it, whatever it may bring.
Tears burned in your eyes and you quickly wiped them away, swallowing your self-pity down. You couldn’t risk crying, even in the shower. You were not about to test just how good Matt’s hearing was. With a final sigh, you washed your face as well as you could, teeth chattering slightly as you wrapped yourself in a towel.
You couldn’t help a growl of frustration when you noticed you forgot to bring your bag in, so you dried yourself off as best as you could before sneaking out to the couch where you left your things. But there on the couch, folded next to the blankets, was one of Matt’s old shirts and a pair of sweatpants. He must have put them out for you when you were already in the bathroom, and the gentle intimacy of the act almost made new tears well up in your eyes. Sure, you always brought pajamas when you spent the night. The fact that you often ended up sleeping in Matt’s clothes anyway was a different story.
He was so kind to you, really. Too kind.
You didn’t deserve him .
The thought coiled and wrapped around your heart coldly, suffocating out any reason you might have against it. Because Matt did deserve so much better than you. He deserved someone honest and genuine. Someone witty and funny, pretty and classy, all the things that you were… not.
He certainly deserved someone who didn’t put on a fake smile for an entire night, pretending that everything was going hunky-dory.
You tried to convince yourself you were doing this for him. To protect him. But the truth is, you did this to protect yourself . To hide all the broken little pieces that made up your heart behind a forced smile and petty little excuses. He really, truly didn’t deserve you.
With a tightness in your throat, you came to the conclusion that one day, he will realize this too. Matt will grow tired of your lies and leave you. And how could you deal with that? How could anybody else love you if he wouldn’t?
You shook your head as if you could get rid of all this so simply, quickly, neatly, putting on his clothes instead with trembling lips and an even wilder trembling heart, taking a deep breath to fill your mind with the scent of him, instead.
And Matt waited patiently for you. He was already in bed, eyes closed, but you could easily tell he wasn’t sleeping yet. He hoped that after a shower, you’d feel relaxed enough to talk to him and tell him what’s been bothering you.
But when you finally climbed into bed next to him, you promptly turned the other way, curling up against the world, and he just couldn’t hold his tongue.
Pushing himself up on an elbow, Matt took a deep breath, reaching out with his free hand to give a gentle caress to your arm, jaw clenching at the way you stiffened under his touch as if burned.
“Y/N, what’s wrong?”
You held your breath, frightened, because for a second there, you really hoped he didn’t notice. After what seemed like an eternity, you meekly squeaked out a single word.
“Nothin’.”
It didn’t take any special talent for Matt to figure out you were lying through your teeth.
“We both know that’s not true.” he managed, voice calm despite the ache in his jaw from clenching it too hard. After a heavy sigh, you made a show of turning around in bed, facing him. You examined his face closely, a pang of regret flashing through you.
“No, it’s not. But…” you started as you took his hand in yours, bringing it over your heart. “...it has nothing to do with you.”
After a few anxious, uneasy breaths, Matt relaxed a bit, and for once, you were very thankful that he could sense if you lied.
Because this, this one thing ? It was the truth. And you wanted him to understand that above everything else. Even if you couldn’t put things into words much. He lay back on the bed, and when his hand smoothed down your arm again, you didn’t pull away.
“Did something happen?”
“No.”
Another truth. Because that was the thing with anxiety. Nothing needed to happen. It came and went as it pleased, trespassing unannounced in your heart like a moody proprietor. And if things went too fine for its liking, it intervened.
“It’s just anxiety.” You added quietly when you saw Matt didn’t understand. If you were in a better mood, you’d be amused at the mix of worry and curiosity written over his face. But he still said nothing, waiting for you patiently and something in you made you blurt up more words to fill the silence before you could stop it.
“It’s gonna be okay. It’s been flaring up for a few days and I was just waiting for it to pass.” You chuckled weakly, shrugging it off. “I mean, it’s not the first time it’s happening. I-it’s not always this bad.”
Holy shit, why were you saying all this? And why couldn’t you keep your voice steady? Why couldn’t you just keep your mouth shut? He asked what was wrong, and you answered it. That’s it. You bit your lips as if you could physically keep more words from slipping out, afraid you’d end up confessing up a list of your childhood traumas.
A gentle squeeze at your arm brought your thoughts back to him. “What can I do for you?”
“What?”
You blinked dumbly, his question taking you completely off guard. What could he do?
“Yeah.” Matt said as if reading your thoughts, scooting closer. “Is there something I can do to make it better?”
“I-I don’t…” you paused. You really didn’t know. Ever since you could remember, this was your thing . Your battle to be fought, leaving you struggling to keep up with the rest of the world whizzing past. Nobody ever offered to help and you certainly never went to anyone with it.
But the way Matt looked at you just now made you wonder if it was truly okay that way. It didn’t matter that his gaze was lacking focus - it was witchcraft just how deeply in thought he looked, a fondness in his eyes as he patiently waited for you to give an answer you weren’t sure you had.
You swallowed against a lump in your throat that definitely wasn’t there before. “I don’t know.” You concluded simply.
Matt looked confused, brows furrowing adorably, and any other day, you’d kiss him silly until you could make him smile again.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
There was no accusation in his voice. You shrugged, trying to ignore the burning sensation in your eyes. “I-I just don’t. I don’t think anybody ever helped with this.”
A pause.
“I’m- I-I’m not used to affection, y’know...” Your voice broke over the last few words and you had to press a hand over your mouth to keep back a sob.
And you half-expected Matt to say some random, well-versed cliché. Something like ‘I’m here for you’ or ‘I got you’ and honestly, part of you wanted him to say it. You wanted to hear the empty reassurances. But another, weaker, trembling part of you wished he wouldn’t say anything, because unlike him, you would not be able to tell if he meant it or not.
Sure, Matt loved you.
But that was before seeing you like this - for just how broken you really are.
When he wrapped his arms around you and pulled into the tightest hug you’ve ever received, you finally let your tears fall, burying your face in the crook of his neck.
“You’d better get used to it then.” he whispered as he rubbed your back gently, letting you cry it out. Even now, you tried to hold it back as best as you could, feeling ashamed at first, relaxing slowly as he mumbled sweet reassurances to you.
Finally, you stopped crying, sniffling and wiping at your face. “‘M sorry.” You mumbled, but he held your face, gently wiping a few persistent tears off with his thumb.
“There’s nothing for you to apologize for, okay?” he assured you. “Next time, tell me. Even,” he interrupted you as you opened your mouth to retort. “Even when you think I’m busy.”
“Well, you kinda were busy, just saying. And I didn't want to disturb.”
“I know. And I’m sorry. But I want you to know I’ll never be too busy for you.”
You nodded, snuggling closer to him with a sigh. Part of you hated to admit it, but you felt relieved. Not just because you managed to get a good cry, but because you felt like Matt understood. Like he didn’t judge you.
“How about I make you some tea? You still feel a little restless.”
You frowned. It was true, your heart was still beating pretty fast, and you didn’t feel ready to sleep at all. But you also didn’t want to get up, not when you had Matt to hold on to, so you just rubbed your face against his chest with a playful whimper.
“It’ll be good for you, I promise.”
“But I don’t want you to go.” you whined, even as he untangled himself from your arms with a chuckle, leaning down to press a soft kiss on your head.
“Join me then.” And with that, he walked out.
Hmph. The audacity of leaving you. You listened for a while to the noises coming from the kitchen, before getting up with a huff. Hmph. The audacity of leaving you. You listened for a while to the noises coming from the kitchen, before getting up with a huff.
For once, you were thankful for the ugly billboard across the street that illuminated the apartment in some light. Grabbing the blanket from the couch, you wrapped yourself up like a burrito and walked over to Matt, who was busy preparing everything.
He smiled when he saw you following, though he got a little confused when you went past him to stand right behind him. Before he could ask anything, you wrapped your arms around him, head resting against his back with a happy noise.
“Can I help you?” he asked amusedly, but you just held him tighter.
“Nope, that’ll be all.” You mumbled into his shirt, feeling his body shake gently with another laugh.
“Okay then.”
Playful you was a good sign, and he let you follow him around in the small space, holding onto him even as he took out two mugs, preparing the tea. You could smell some faint, herb-like scent, but you preferred to drown it out with the scent of Matt’s shirt instead, burrowing your face further against him.
“What are you doing?” he laughed.
“Getting used to affection?”
“Fair enough. But why don’t you wait for me on the couch? I’ll be right over with the tea.”
He patted your hand gently, and you reluctantly let go. Settling on the couch, you pulled the blanket a little tighter around yourself, quietly thanking Matt as he handed you a steaming mug of tea when he followed after. As soon as he sat down, you wasted no time in snuggling close carefully, sighing happily as he draped an arm around your shoulder.
It was a perfect, cozy moment.
Except for the smell.
“...what kind of tea is this again?” You grimaced slightly, peering into the offending cup.
“Chamomile. It’ll help you relax.” he drank quietly from his own mug, waiting for you to try. When you finally took a sip, your entire face contorted with a disgusted frown and Matt almost choked from laughing too hard.
“It tastes like hot grass .” You mumbled, cheeks burning and pretending to be a little hurt over him having fun at your expense.
“I’m sorry.” He leaned in, pressing an apologetic kiss on your forehead, but you could feel his grin against your skin. “It’s very healthy, though.”
The tea did seem to help you, and between Matt gently caressing your shoulders and the exhaustion of the week catching up with you, you soon started nodding off. Carefully, Matt pried the empty mug from your hands and picked you up to carry you to the bedroom.
You didn’t have any energy protest, arms sliding around his neck on autopilot, refusing to let go even as he put you down on the bed. He waited for a few seconds, chuckling when he realized you’re really not going to let go, doing his best to settle down comfortably before pulling you close.
A last kiss in your hair was all you felt before you finally fell asleep.